“How was it?” Morgana asks, sending a warm glance to each student.

Her words are met by silence initially. For a moment or two, no one responds. Then, the sound of a heaved sigh. Coming from the black-haired boy, I see him hands in his pockets, prepare to answer.

“Can’t say.” He dismissively mumbles, monotone.

We move on immediately. Our gaze then settles on the blonde elf, next in our clockwise chain of command. Not long after, he acknowledges our gaze, a contemplative nod in motion.

“Well.” He says, scratching the back of his head, “I thought it was pretty hard! I’m not used to fighting with numbers or letters or a combination of the two..”

I narrow my eyes at his statement. It seems the elf is either referring to algebra or just writing and math in general. But from my observation so far, it might just be the latter. Something similar to mental pain erodes my soul. Regardless, I try my best to withhold judgement of his character. Since he’s already passed whatever constitutes an entrance exam here, I can only assume that he is of some quality.

Maybe.

Aren’t elves supposed to be smart?

Urgh.

I don’t bother to expunge the energy needed to process it any further.

“What about you?” Asks Morgana, eyes on the girl opposing her.

A short pause ensues. As it is, the attention befalls the Crilandese girl from earlier. Faced with her head on, I catch a glimpse of a few extra details. Now that I’m closer and perhaps slightly less frustrated, I must say that she makes quite the impression—a weird one.

Without offence, it looks as if she just came from the hospital. I say this because of the several eccentricities marked on her face. B&B, as I post-hastily title it.

Burns and bandages.

On her left cheek are irregularly placed burn spots, like withered skin. And diagonally crossing the right side of her face are black bandages covering even her eye. While enveloping her left arm are similarly grey bandages.

As I notice these features, I sigh, understanding what a shame it’d be if my face was tarnished like this.

That proves to be a mistake. Discernible as I am, the scarred Crilandese girl matches my gaze, taking one step forward.

She catches wind of my observation, smirking.

“Leering, boy?” The girl says, suggesting she caught wind of my observation. “Behold my charms as much as you like”. She pauses dramatically, flourishing her left arm. “I’m aware beautiful women such as myself are ill-found in your continent.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

I smile, then shrug in reply.

“I’d hardly say it’s your beauty I’m fixated on. Moreso, what covers it.”

She laughs boisterously, touching her left eyebrow with her right hand. “Clothes make the character, don’t they? You should judge my magnificence as a whole, attire and superficiality notwithstanding.”

“So how’d you do?” Interjects Morgana, no doubt vexed.

“As the next Empress of Criland, I would say that I did well befitting my position.”

Morgana wears a thin smile. “Hm, that’s weird. I wasn’t aware Criland still had a monarchy for government.”

The girl shrugs in turn, leaning into Morgana. “I would’ve thought that’s common knowledge. Though I suppose it can’t be helped. Knowledge is a cruel thing to little girls like yourself.”

“Not everyone can be as wise as you, empress. Us peasantry have our fair share of problems already, like studying, making friends, and trying not to be an asshole.”

The elf in the green tunic scratches his chin and looks on contemplatively outside the window as if about to interject.

“I’m hungry.” He would go on to say, breaking the tension between the two girls.

“Hungry for knowledge?!” yells the teacher, finally stepping into our semi-circle.

“No? I want apples or oranges…” replies the elf, a confused look on his face.

At this point, I finally decide to intervene. While watching a lunatic sufficiently torment Morgana is enjoyable; I must say that every second spent in the company of maniacs is a second where my IQ decreases.

I direct my gaze to the teacher. “May we please continue?”

“May we?” He eccentrically replies.

I INHALE. “Yes. Yes, we may.”

Mercy is upon me. The teacher, in place of trying to be witty, actually walks to the door. After a series of nonsensical discussions, we, at long last, manage to make progress.

Peace at long last.

I strut onwards, following in our teacher’s wake. Marching in earnest, we make our way to the teacher’s office, where he drops off the papers, before heading to our next destination. This eventually takes us outside, where our teacher leads us atop an asphalt road, taking us to what I assume to be one of the many facilities of this academy. Along the way, I half-consider the prospect of conversation but quickly conclude that it’d be too much of a pain in the arse.

Among us, no one seems willing to speak anyway. Call it intuition, but I think the nightmare that was our previous exchange of words discouraged any further attempts at conversation. At the rate things are going, my journey there will pass in relative silence, with me being the astute observer of wayward trees.

“So, what’s next, pretty boy?”

Or not.

The silence shatters as a voice erupts to my left. After a second, I recognise the voice to have originated from the Crilandese girl. Feeling good to be acknowledged in this hell hole, a smile encroaches on my face as I prepare an answer.

“The physical test, of course!”

Our teacher had replied, assigning himself the ‘pretty boy’ role. Without time to relish in my misfortune, I see the elf throw a hand up a second after, no doubt another of his intellectually motivated questions ready.

[https://i.imgur.com/KFAU0hW.png]

“A physical test?!” He yells as if it’s the most bizarre thing in the world. “As in, a test using our legs and arms?!”

“May-be! You’ll have to see for yourself when we get there.”

“Will we duel each other?!”

His momentary glee is matched by the teacher, who turns to walk backwards, wink, and do a backflip. Whether that’s a guarantee of the aforementioned ‘duelling’ remains to be seen. But as far as subtle signs go, then I do think it might be indicative of a physical examination.

Not that that’s an issue.

Go ahead, I say.

Let me demonstrate my capabilities in front of the rest of these idiots.

Speaking of which…