The next day was the first official day of the school year in the Royal Mauve Academy.

We did our morning rituals in the washroom provided at the end of the each hall. Thankfully, we were only 2 doors away from it. We went there quite early, afraid that some seniors might pick on us again. After washing our hair and donning our clothes, we went down to the dining hall for some breakfast and had our fill of bacon, eggs, and sausages, deep-fried potatoes, pancakes, and french toast, with fresh berries and sliced fruits in season. Elliot even asked Aunt May for seconds and kept them in clean platters which he placed in his pouch for later consumption.

By 8 in the morning, all the neophytes had gathered in the main hall to meet the professors.

I saw Prof. Novil there – the person who registered me at the gates.

He went on stage and introduced himself as he pushed his spectacles in place.

“I am Prof. Laurel Novil, the head of academics,” he said in a clear voice that was magically amplified throughout the main hall. “I welcome you all to the Royal Mauve Academy, particularly, our new students.”

He looked towards his left where us new students were seated together with the second and third years.

“We are here today to introduce you to the faculty. As you well know, our beloved Overseer, is none other than this Majesty, Emperor Nigellus Vladimir Indicum IV, although due to his busy schedule while taking care of the empire, you shall be welcomed by our school Principal, instead. Let us welcome, the Holy Sage, Cardinal Prunus Rosales.”

The students gave a respectful bow as an old priest went up the stage, supported by two younger priests on both sides. I recognized him as the person who introduced the three new Holy Nights of the Purple Flame in yesterday’s ceremony. He was clad in vestments as white as his long hair and beard, with a purple stole that hang in front and trailed behind him.

“I welcome you, once again, to the prestigious, Holy Royal, Mauve Academy,” he said between breaths. “May the holy, Goddess, bless you all...”

That was all the principal said before the other priests helped him down the stage.

“Next is our Head of Military studies, Grand Knight Alcides,” Prof. Novil announced, as a thick set, middle-aged knight wearing black armor with a purple cape entered the stage.

“Today marks the day when you become functional members of society as we shape you into citizens the Empire would be proud of!” he told us. “All you neophytes will get tougher when I’m through with you! All those who aren’t gifted in academics will automatically be proud members of the order of the Purple Knights!”

So, it’s another attempt to turn us into mass murderers.

It’s a good thing that I’m pretty confident with my intellect.

He went on yammering about the greatness of dying for the empire until Prof. Novil cut him short with a tap on the shoulder.

“Thank you, Grand Knight Alcides,” he told him with a strained smile.

Several other professors came after Grand Knight Alcides. The introductions lasted for about an hour.

“Last but not the least, may we have the Head of Magic Studies, Grand Magister Shalem on stage?”

There was a moment of silence as we waited for the last person to arrive, until a blast of lightning and a sudden puff of purple smoke covered the whole stage.

A thin, tall man in a purple robe appeared when the smoke dissipated. He was wearing a golden monocle on his right eye and leaned on a thick black staff with a lilac crystal on top. He looked lazily at the students who were coughing up front and cleared his throat.

“Greetings, students,” he said in a soft faraway voice. “I will take care of the fourth years and so forth... I shall be in my tower if anyone needs me.”

With that, he disappeared with another puff of smoke.

“Wow. I guess we get taught by those weirdos, huh?” Arman said flatly. “So, when do we get to meet our mentors?”

“I think we’re about to find that out,” I said as Prof. Novil brought out a magical device that showed writings in the air.

“As you all know,” he began, “Royal Mauve Academy is famous as an advanced and prestigious academy that let masters instruct apprentices as their own protegee. In this academy, we hire the best knights, merchants, doctors, accountants, magicians, and other grand masters of their trade to turn our students into future masters like themselves. These masters will be introduced to you in about two months.”

“Two years ago, though,” he paused. “we had a... suggestion from one of our students, that neophytes should be guided more by their seniors into being...” he paused once again. “better students in this academy.”

I couldn’t read the look in Prof. Novil’s face as he pushed his glasses in place.

“As such, student ‘mentor-apprentice’ relationships were enacted, on top of the official ‘master-apprentice’ roles. This relatively new relationship is as follows...”

An illustration was shown in the air.

“A student who reaches his 2nd year in academy has the choice to take in a neophyte as an apprentice,” he explained. “The neophyte. Must be honored. To be chosen as one. And has no right to decline.”

A low murmur could be heard in the area of the first years as Prof. Novil spat the words out one by one.

“As such,” he went on, “seniors are obligated, to look after their juniors’ well being and to make sure that NO HARM BEFALLS THEM.”

The professor said this in a clear, loud voice while looking at a particular spot in the senior’s area.

“What if the seniors are the ones harming them?” asked Elliot.

“Shh. Do you want to get penalized for speaking out of turn?” a fellow neophyte in front of us hushed him. “That’s 10 lashes for you!” he warned us.

“Now, a senior can have any number of apprentices,” the professor continued. “He can call the apprenticeship off at any time, or wait until the student becomes a 2nd year, which will end all student mentor-apprentice relationships. Unless, the junior chooses to continue the said relationship until the end of his stay in this academy.”

“Then, I just need to endure a year of this hell!” gasped a student.

“Tough luck,” another replied. “My cousin was forced to say he didn’t want to break the relationship. He’s still an apprentice up to his 3rd year!”

“Too much for ‘choice’ then...” Arman mumbled.

“But not just any senior can get an apprentice,” said Prof. Novil through the murmurings in the hall. “Only those who show excellent results in their field can choose to have them, since, as the title says, a ‘mentor’ must be someone experienced enough to guide their ‘apprentices’.”

“Much help that does,” said same person in front of us. “The seniors can just pull neophytes out and pass them to their friends.”

“I heard a student from the fourth floor jumped to his death yesterday when five seniors went after him.”

“And what they did in the bathhouse the other day...”

“There is more.” The murmuring went down a notch as the professor continued. “There is a way to end your apprenticeship, and that is by ‘fair battle’.”

“Ugh, it’s just a way for the seniors to fight over the pretty ones,” the person in front mumbled on as Prof. Novil changed the image in the air.

“A mentor can challenge another mentor for the right to an apprentice through a duel of fists, wits, or magic. But this year, we have added another condition.”

The hall fell silent as he went on.

“This year, all neophytes can join in the challenge to save themselves as well as their fellow neophytes from unwanted mentorship.”

There was a roar in the main hall as murmuring voices rose higher, mostly coming from the left side of the stage where the first to 3rd year students were staying.

“Did you hear that?” they cried out with hope, “We can actually fight back!”

“Does that mean I don’t need to go to my mentor’s room anymore?” someone asked, crying.

“But, who among the first years is strong enough to beat the seniors?” came a remark.

That seemed to silence the people around us.

“Settle down, students,” we heard Prof. Novil’s voice over the din. “As I was saying, any student can fight for the honor of their fellow student and free them from a mentor’s apprenticeship...”

“You sound as if a mentor is the devil himself, professor.”

The hall went completely silent as a tall man with long ash black hair stood at the front of the stage.

“I was merely using words as I see fit,” replied the professor who looked down at him. “Please return to your seat, Nigellus.”

“Nigellus?” Elliot craned his neck to get a better look at the student still standing in front with his arms crossed over his chest. “That’s the empire’s first crown prince!”

“I merely agreed to these conditions because of my request last evening,” Nigellus declared arrogantly as he faced the students. “I was in good spirits after I received the Goddess’ blessing, so I let them have their way,” he expounded. “In truth, everyone should be honored to be apprenticed to a senior in this prestigious academy, but if you should decline, then feel free to challenge us to a duel.”

He looked at us haughtily with an evil smirk in his flawless face.

“That is, if you can better us in any challenge.”

The hall was silenced once again, as Nigellus kept his head high on his way back to his seat with the rest of the fourth years.

“Damn that prince! How I wish I could shove a crown of thorns down his throat!” cursed Arman. “I bet he has someone good in all three areas on the ready, just to make sure that not one of his apprentices are taken from him.”

“That is, if he even accepts a challenge,” said the person in front of us. “I heard that not one of the apprentices he takes are ever seen alive on campus.”

“Yeah, I heard he keeps them under lock and key,” said Elliot.

“I’m Gerald, by the way,” the guy in front introduced himself as the hall was filled with murmurings once more. “I was forcefully apprenticed to a senior called Wein the other day,” he added. “Good thing that rash broke out before they could do anything to me.”

Gerald was more handsome than beautiful with his thick auburn hair cut clean and his green eyes shining.

“My cousin is a 3rd year and he told me how those bastards like to prey on neophytes, and not just the pretty boys too, they also choose big, sturdy students and treat them as servants or bodyguards.”

“Good for you then,” said a wavering voice from beside him. It came from a classmate whose eyes were still red from crying.

“Two of us were caught on the first day... I would still be following senior Will to his room if it wasn’t for that rash...” his pale lips shuddered, his long lashes wet with tears. “I just wish someone would be brave enough to challenge them for me...”

“But aren’t students supposed to stay in their own rooms at lights out?” asked Arman.

“That doesn’t stop them from doing what they want during the rest of the day,” said Gerald. “I heard they turned the main bath into a whore house! Good thing I hid inside my cousin’s room, but I was still caught in the end!”

“You’re lucky,” the person to Gerald’s left addressed me this time. “You’re ugly enough to fend off the seniors, but your sleeping friend over there would be in trouble if the seniors see him.”

He pointed at Cat who had been sleeping while leaning of Elliot’s plump bosom since the orientation began. He had forgotten to use the ‘mask of flesh’ to keep the hives on his body, and now lay sleeping with his pink skin glowing with health.

“You know,” said Arman with a burnt eyebrow raised in irritation, “I would hit you right now if you weren’t pathetic already.”

“May we know what your name is?” I asked the person in front before Arman starts a fight.

“I am Hank Thompson, Baron Thompson’s only heir,” he said haughtily. “I can’t believe I had been defiled by lowly sons of mere knights and baronets!” he gasped exaggeratedly. “Ah, the woes of beautiful men like me!”

He began to cry in earnest.

We faced Gerald instead as Elliot introduced us one by one.

“My name’s Elliot, these are my friends, Pat, Arman, and Cat,” he said pointing at the sleeping lad on his chest.

“Yes, I recognize you guys from the dining hall,” he looked at me, extending a hand. “You are the grand duke’s son, right?” he asked.

“I really have no use for titles, you know,” I mumbled as I shook his hand, while Hank’s jaw dropped open.

“You mean to say, that you are a grand duke?” he asked, pale blue eyed wide open.

He reached out to touch my arm, then wavered as he stared at my face, and slowly pulled away.

“Settle down, students,” Prof. Laurel called out once again. “The final part of your orientation is about the rules and regulations inside the Royal Mauve Academy. These are included in your Student’s Guidebook which shall be distributed to you today. Please be guided accordingly.”

The rest of the morning was spent reading the guidebook. We were then sent to lunch and to our afternoon classes.

Neophytes were told to report to the 1st year’s school building which was located at the back of the dorms.

All year levels had their own building, located at the back of the previous level. This way, seniors would be able to pass by their junior’s area, while the juniors are not allowed to stray in areas beyond their level.

The 1st year building had two floors. The second floor is divided into eight lecture halls, while the ground floor is one large area where the students can gather. This is where we stayed for another orientation.

“Another lecture again?” Cat asked with a big yawn as we sat at the back of the class.

“How can you complain, when you slept through the whole orientation earlier?” said Elliot with a laugh.

“You’re lucky you’re small,” said Arman, “you could easily hide in the folds of Elliot’s body! I was actually hit my a flying wad of paper when I tried to rest my eyes in the grand hall!”

“But I don’t understand,” asked Gerald as he stared at Cat’s freshly invoked hives. “Where did those welts come from? You looked perfectly healthy while you where sleeping earlier...”

Arman, Elliot and I glared at Cat.

We shouldn’t have put our guards down when he went to sleep, we’re just glad that none of the seniors were near us that time.

“Oh, um, this is an allergy for being anxious too much!” Cat replied with a nervous laugh.

We went on our way and were entering the lecture room when I heard Hank mumbling.

“You sure are lucky...” said he. “So lucky in deed!”