The lawns around the bend of the College of Industry and Commerce was a popular gathering place. By default, it is were most of my colleagues tend to gather, laying about like bovine creatures, wondering and mulling what to extricate from the sparse freedom the rest of the day afforded them. Some have a few more classes while others must brave the onset of boredom brought upon by ample time. Although I am inclined for most of the time to shut myself in my quarters and enjoy a good night's slumber, I forced myself to break out of this inclination for the foreseeable future. For my stay in Lonethorne, I am to rub elbows with the offspring and heirs of realms and titans of industry. This was one of the reason why I accepted Saville and Spencer's offer in the first place; to nurture connections and relationships with individuals with influential futures. A opportunity that I must not squander.

I approached the college green where my acquaintances spend their time thinking of what to do for that evening. The field was vast and largely empty, several trees dotted the expanse and it is in one of these, a decades old oak tree with a bulbous trunk and branches scattered in a way that made it ideal for lazing below, that they have made their rendezvous point. Even as I approached I already know what troubles beset the preconceived leader of our merry little band.

"Aaaahhhhh.......," moaned Sigric Holbrook, eyes staring into nothingness like some undead freshly risen from the grave. He lay back on the grass itself, uncaring for the mildew soaking into his fine erizian coat. Flaxen haired and possessing a strong jawline that many a women find attractive, Sigric Holbrook could have easily stepped out of a dictionary under the definition of the word privileged. The third son of a baron, his main and primary concern was what to occupy his time with.

"What to do, what to do...?" he muttered as he continued his agonizing wonderment of something to occupy his evening.

"You know, you could actually do some actual school work and study? Being stuck in remedial and all," said a towering young man seated against the trunk of the oak tree with an open notebook in one hand, easily the biggest lad in our merry company. Bertram Inwood. At the time, all I know of him was that he came from money. It was unknown to me whether he was of aristocracy or an heir apparent to some wealthy industry. He towered at well beyond six feet with powerful shoulders and long legs. His stature was imposing and has a preference in dressing impeccably in fine dark suits. He moved quietly, almost as quietly as I am. However, despite his quiet personality, he was well liked by all and has many friends in various circles around campus.

Both cast a glance my way. Bertram nodded and muttered a quick hello while Sigric waved at my general direction to acknowledge at my arrival. They were pleasant fellows and my senior being as they are (or supposed to be) sophomores in the coming semester. Their academic performances from the prior semester has required them to attend remedial classes during the break. They were the first ones to extend an invitation after my first class sit-in and found myself under their wing.

"Any plans for the evening, gents?" I asked with a jovial tone. I made it a priority not to let my true melancholic personality seep in.

"That is what that dolt is troubling over," Bertram supplied, kicking a patch of grass towards Sig's direction, before he went back to his notes. Sigric muttered incoherently in response.

"I may have something to alleviate that. A gathering at Wrenne Hall."

"Wrenne Hall? For the umpteenth time? No thank you."

"I wouldn't say umpteenth," inserted a voice from across the lawn, not far away from where we were. Strode in Livitha Topingfield. An heiress. Of what, I get varying answers. Steel mills one source and a soap industry in another. A myriad of things of that to be certain. Strawberry-blonde hair without any restrictions cascaded beyond her shoulders. She acted in a way that reminded me of a certain auburn-haired girl back on Sorez. She the university and there are special classes and protocols about young women. But it seems as I was surprised to learn. I heard mention of this of Miss Covington and her Aunt Ione. But to see unaccompanied, unchaperoned young women of their stature was a certain shock to me. I had to stop myself from staring. In a school? with little to no proper supervision? I pity the school administration for having have to deal with this matters. What would their parents think? These thoughts I bottle up and corked and careful never to speak out in the open. I found it most odd but never spoke it aloud. I thought it would be rude of me.

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"Please If Parnell has to cater from the restaurant again, I'd rather roll myself down the steepest hill in the campus all the way to the city!" Sig complained.

"Well, Sig, if you haven't flunked three courses you would not be here amidst a break but instead gallivanting off on Dornsee Hills," teased Livitha further.

Sigric cast her a wry glance, "You take immense pleasure in my suffering don't you Liv?"

"I heard Lyfelde Hall is having a get together of some sort," I offered. I heard of it among some history-major students in passing while on my way to the office for my morning chores. I was about a good quarter way in progress.

All three looked towards me sharply, curious looks directed at my way. Maybe even a slight hint of hostility perhaps? "Lyfelde Hall? Where did you hear that?" asked Sig.

"I passed by some juniors on my here this morning. It seems they have been at it for some nights now," I answered but wondered what warranted such a reaction.

"Lyfelde Hall? Are you certain?" This was Livitha's inquiry. There was an authoritative steel tone in her voice.

"Positively."

There was silence, their thoughts mulling over. Sig was, honest to gods, sincerely in deep thought. Bertram returned once more to his notes, uncaring it seems. Livitha.....Livitha was hard to read but stared on me for some reason.

"Bah!" said Sig, "Wrenne Hall it will be then for the night! We'll meet at the front of the dorms then," Sig announced, completely dismissing Lyfelde Hall without explanation but seems apparent and understood to both Liv and Bertram. Odd, I thought.

"Speaking of," I started, eager to move on to another subject. I fished out a folded piece of parchment from my pocket and flashed it to the laid-back youth atop the grass, "In order to avoid another moment of moaning from you. Have you finished the paper for this week yet?"

Sig's hand sped out but I was faster, yanking it away from him, "I'll get it done, you're not my mother."

"And yet we continue to suffer your moaning," piped in Liv.

"Oh shut it," he snapped at Liv. Liv smiled, a genuine satisfaction spread on her dark tinted lips. She favored dark lip stick for some reason, it makes her seem more mature.

Sig turned to me this time, "What's that?" his tone turned softer. He already knows what it is. Salvation.

"Notes," I said. This time I actually handed it to him. "And do please try to add what you actually learned in class. This is just something to get you along."

"Of course, of course," he assured me, getting up and dusting away the mildew and clinging grassblades. "And don't forget you lot. Wrenne Hall, sixth chime of the eve!" he finished already galloping away across the lawn. He turned a corner, bounding towards his dorm room.

"You know he's going to copy it word for word," Bertram said from his notes.

"Thank Providence I'm not officially enrolled then."

"And what happens if Ayshecombe starts asking questions? He may be getting on in years but the old man has his moments of extreme sharpness." So I have heard. Every now and then, Old Ayshecombe would ambush his class with sudden recitations and questions regarding the subject at hand. The man was like a viper at times, never knowing he would strike and putting spotlight on the students who undertook his class thinking this would be an easy swim of a remedial course. One infamous instance that I oft heard was when Sigric got the unfortunate fate of being put in that said light. It is said that the entire class was in a fit of laughter, almost wheezing in pain even, as Sigric made up his own answers on the spot with a genuine seriousness on his face. The story always puts a smile on both Bertram and Livitha's lips since the short time I've known them.

"Oh, then I'll finally see an encore of Sigric v. Ayshecombe. See what the fuss is all about," I replied. That caught laughter from both of them.