“Step forth!” a deep, gravelly voice reverberated from the end of the Hall.
The sea of well-dressed upperclassmen erupted into a chorus of cheers as Elwin took his first careful step onto the burgundy carpet, leading his first-year peers into the Grand Dining Hall. Mirai was right behind, tense with anticipation; next came Isaac, who marveled deeply at the star-studded ceiling with the celestial cartographs of planets and their moons; and Katherine, who prodded Isaac along with hushed voices to keep him focused on following Elwin and Mirai in front of him.
In the far-off distance through the long tables of the Four Houses, the first-years gleaned the Masters’ Table rising like a ship amidst the sea; and reposed above it like a mast was a podium of great height. Elwin sighted a figure with a hair of luminous silver and robes of deep purple on that podium, with one arm outstretched as if to welcome their arrival; it must be the headmaster.
As he approached the Masters’ Table, he was taken with surprise by an unmistakable figure from his past: with a striking nose and a hair that gleamed white, Professor Thales Veracitas pierced the air of the hall to peruse the caliber of the newly admitted Artens. Elwin’s heart pounded in his throat with the memory of taking on the Trial of Instinct as part of the entrance examinations.
But, as Elwin saw, even the frighteningly incisive Professor Thales was just one out of many on that Masters’ Table. If each professor was like him, then...
His thoughts would unfold much later, because he’d found himself at the end of the carpet already, and the headmaster atop his podium raised his left hand to gesture the first-years to stop at last. The upperclassmen immediately ended their cheers of celebration; in an instant, the hall became as silent as night.
Elwin could now discern the figure of the headmaster in greater detail, and each feature and expression upon him spoke of dignity and strength that defied time. His hair and beard was a brilliant silver-white, impeccably kempt, and contrasted with his complexion of deep earth; the wavering light of the evening sun cast a play of shadows across his expression, arresting any attempt by Artens to read his thoughts. Rather, it was he that saw into them, and every first-year in the hall, perusing them like open books; Elwin could feel the intensity of the headmaster’s sight, which glowed a luminescent purple that pierced the dust and sun-drenched haze of the Hall. Such were eyes that could pierce every soul and illuminate every untruth and deceit – one look was all it took for Elwin to understand this wasn’t someone to cross.
And that’s when Elwin recalled from his admissions letter that this must be Abraxas Justiciae Amladris – towering above them all in fearsome glory stood the once-president of their Unified Mythrisian Republics, the 17th. To the professors on that Masters’ Table, and the parents and grandparents of those upperclassmen, he was the bridge between the modern world and the heroic legends of the mythical age, having led the Republics through its greatest moral, constitutional, and civil crisis a quarter century ago. Seeing him in flesh was to witness a living legend, and to hear him speak was to listen to the spirit of Astinel, the Consul of the Second Republic; perhaps even MITHRA, founder of the First, and giver of that name which now graces their Mythrisian nation two millenniums later.
The past-president perused each Arten with thorough authority. For a short moment his radiant purple gaze rested on Elwin’s single eye, and Elwin felt it sting as if looking into the midday sun. He didn’t, however, shy away from the sight – and for whatever reason, the headmaster’s eyes seemed to linger on Elwin ever so slightly more than the others behind him.
Satisfied with his assessment at last, he spoke.
“Artens of our Republics!” he thundered, his voice reverberating off the walls and rattling the silverware on the delicately arranged porcelain.
Elwin nearly flinched at the amplitude of his address; his voice alone was unlike any person’s he’d ever heard. Clearly, it was testament to his place above the world of ordinary men – but there was some other elegant quality to the voice that seemed uncannily familiar. What was it?
“Bright-eyed and valor full, you have braved the trials that the world has thrown you thus.”
“You stand here before the great men and women who bore witness to your commendable aptitude and potential for that called the Elemental Arts; many for your truly exceptional dedication to the advancement of knowledge; and many for your talents that others seldom possess.”
“Above all, you are here because you have distinguished yourselves with spirit and will beyond that displayed by many others. You have chosen to take on the challenge of guarding our Republics; to be its beacon of light even through the shadows of the world. You have much to witness from your seniors that now stand with you.”
The first-years took a moment to glance around at depth to the upperclassmen who’d blessed their entry a few moments prior. Each upperclassman was dressed in their robed uniforms that far surpassed the first-years’ splendor – but most telling were their eyes, for all of them had the look of a person who’d seen and experienced many things. Their eyebrows were not lifted in innocent mirth like theirs was, or at least, most of the first-years’; but their relaxed expressions nuanced subtly that they were also comfortable and assured of who they were. What a difference just 3 years makes! Just by virtue of this fact, Elwin felt to be standing in the valley of giants.
Headmaster Abraxas allowed his words to properly settle before continuing his speech.
“For your choice, I salute you and give you my warmest welcome to our Aeternitas National Academy. It is an honor to be your headmaster for the next four years.”
It was the standard salute of military-men and those champions in the Great Games. There were fleeting whispers of astonishment, but it soon gave way to them returning the same honor. People very seldom saluted first to those younger than them, especially to those lower in the hierarchy. When adults saluted children, it was accompanied by a lesson to teach them of the gesture and its meaning: doing so signified pledging one’s heart to the recipient. But this wasn’t such a lesson, so the intuitive first-years understood what the salute from Headmaster Abraxas – the former president of the Republics – truly meant. Their shoulders suddenly became heavy with the weight of responsibility; come a future, they would have to surpass even he.
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“As expected from a distinguished audience.”
“However,” Headmaster Abraxas continued, his voice now that of stern warning, “you must bear in your heart that you are not at Aeternitas because you are perfect; rather, you are at your farthest point from it.”
Elwin gulped; and so did almost every other first-year behind him. If the best of the best was far from perfect, then... what was the height they must reach?
“The brief life of four years you lead here shall either set you to achieve perfection; or rather, completeness; you will either prove yourself worthy of the purpose of your own choosing, or fall from grace to be forgotten. The path you take, I shall leave to each and every soul that stands before me. Though I show you the gate, you shall be the steerer of your own destiny.”
“From now on, you are no longer mere pupils. I, Abraxas Justiciae Amladris, declare you upon the world and in the witness of DEIA AETERNITAS and the FOUNDERS of the Arts,” he continued, raising his wolfram-silver staff high in the air and swinging it down towards them,
“As proper Artens of Aeternitas!”
A billowing jet of fire emanated from the spear-tip of his staff and engulfed the tops of their left shoulders, roaring past their ear and hair and lightly singeing the sides of their ceremonial robes. Some flinched, and others froze in shock, but Headmaster Abraxas controlled the Art of Fire so finely even at such distances, so it hurt none of them. Elwin felt the raw heat of its power on his face and what used to be his left eye; and in a few seconds, the fire had raced past all 160 first-years and into the golden spear-tip of Professor Aionia’s staff, who’d been blessing the first-years at the rear. She released that fire once again, this time into the sky, bursting into fireworks under the celestial cartographs, needles of flame briefly lighting the Dining Hall in the sigil of the Academy itself, disappearing at last.
“And as first-years, Fradihta shall be your name!” announced Professor Aionia, answering what began with the headmaster.
The fire-ceremony was complete, the dust of the world they carried cleansed for entry; they were Artens of Aeternitas truly now.
The entire hall once again roared with the shouts and chants of ceremony and blessings, and this time with the motto of the academy.
“Virtus Animus, in Aeternum Resonat!”
“Virtus Animus, in Aeternum Resonat!”
“Virtus Animus, in Aeternum Resonat!”
* * *
“Whew, that was quite the experience,” Katherine remarked, relaxing her posture a little. All the first-years were seated now on their long communal tables towards the front of the Dining Hall. To everyone’s surprise, they sat rather close to the professors on the Masters’ Table, Professor Aionia among them. The Dining Hall was filled with murmurs from the various Houses, anticipating the four champions who’d choose to be in their House quite shortly now.
“Headmaster Abraxas’s fire, wow, I didn’t expect that,” remarked Isaac, brushing off the bit of ash that had collected on the singed portion of his left shoulder. “It’s a shame our uniforms got singed.”
“I wouldn’t say that. Think of it as a rite of passage!” replied Katherine, admiring the burnt patchwork. “Fire in these kinds of ceremonies is supposed to be holy.”
“Huh,” Elwin remarked. “I can’t say anyone’s warned us, though. I almost flinched when it came towards my direction.”
“They did tell us, you dishonorable swine,” derided Lucian from a table’s length away. “At least give the guidebook your proper respect.” It was obvious he was eavesdropping on their conversation. “Oh, I know. Perhaps you can’t be bothered. It’s obvious as to why that may be.”
Katherine returned Lucian a look of utter disgust.
“Go swallow a fork, Lucian. Not all of us are swimming in idleness as you are.”
“What did you just say to me? Idleness?”
“That’s right.”
“How rich, coming from someone who didn’t have to flick a finger to get into Aeternitas because her father opened a back door.”
“Shut it, Lucian. Don’t make me go over there and –”
“And do precisely what, Frhi Millionaire? Are you going to desecrate the sanctity of this ceremony just so you can prove your words?”
“UGH! C’mere you cantankerous piece of –”
“Come on, stop it,” admonished Isaac, pulling Katherine back.
“Um, Elwin –” Mirai joined the conversation at last. “Why is Lucian like that?”
“Huh?”
“Why does he dislike you?”
“Oh,” Elwin replied, gathering his thoughts. He’d really not been able to come up with an answer in the past, and he wasn’t going to be able to do it now.
“Honestly, I don’t know. He was always like that ever since... well, as far back as I can remember.”
“...That’s sad.”
“What’s sad?”
“That you’ve had to deal with such hate.” Mirai’s words gave Elwin some pause.
“Sorry you guys have to deal with him because of me.”
“Don’t say that,” said Isaac, leaning in closer. “We’re your friends. That’s what being ‘friends’ means.”
Elwin instinctively clutched his eyewrap at a phantom pain; the pain of having had it ripped from his face and flung off by Lucian one too many times.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, immediately concerned.
“It’s nothing.”
“You sure?”
“Speaking of, you never told us how you lost your left eye,” remarked Katherine.
“It’s not something I want to talk about right now,” replied Elwin, glancing at Lucian. He felt the venomous snake coiled in the corner of his mind rattle its tail, threatening to surface. “We’re celebrating, after all.”
Mirai and Isaac gave Elwin a lengthy look, but didn’t press further. At a distance, Elwin sighted Professor Aionia and the headmaster exchange a few words. Her shoulder seemed heavy, too.
“Your attention, please,” she announced, in an altogether different texture of voice from the headmaster’s. It wasn’t loud or surprising, but it made everyone turn their heads with its elysian warmth. Perhaps everyone who did great things spoke like that, and Elwin didn’t know how he himself really sounded to other people; in the shadows of those giants, he felt himself so insignificant.
“In a few moments, the doors will open once again, and the House Ceremony for the second-years – our Viatira – shall commence in earnest.”
“Houses SUNNA, MANASURA, TERA, and ARTAIA, please give each and every Viatira their pleasant and deserving welcome with your loudest cheers,” she bowed, and stood atop a raised platform on the Masters’ Table in front of the other professors, golden staff in hand and arm. She raised it towards the front, and to the first-years’ astonishment, those massive doors on the other end of the hall seemed to open on their own accord.
“Esteemed Viatira of Aeternitas, you may enter!”