The trip back to the dormitories wasn't as unbearable for Ginger. For one, not many people paid him as much attention, and for another, Principal Phoenix's words had given him a lot to think about.

'Five years...' he thought.

Five years of learning, and developing as a dragon.

Principal Phoenix made it apparent that it was in the nature of dragons to take care of each other, and she took pride in the fact that this Institute took in dragons of all backgrounds to raise them accordingly.

Of course, whether the fearsome woman considered someone like him with double the stack of looked-down-upon-features as welcome to be part of this institute, was another story. For now, at least no one knew.

It also made Ginger more than a little expectant, when he heard that this school has a lot more practical stuff than theory. While that didn't dismiss the fact that he needed to read up on a lot Ginger was happy to know that he would get to bridge the gap quicker with show more than tell.

In fact, that was always the case with Ancor. When he said one thing, you often found out what he actually meant when he demonstrated what he was talking about.

'Maybe that's just because he is terrible at explaining things well,' Ginger thought glumly.

It was also interesting that – as Ginger had assumed after hearing Principal Phoenix's name – the mature beauty was from the lineage of one of the five Ancient dragons he had seen depicted on the wall, and the mural in the Hall.

The ebony dragon, Draggard-Phoenix.

The dragon that stood as the face of the school, with a bird-like face instead of the typical draconian visage.

Eavesdropping had its merits, and Ginger had learned a great deal from the older students. It helped that most of them didn't shy away from spouting the latest bits of gossip and politics.

"... tell you that Principal Phoenix has it real bad. The other Flame Seeker Families have been aiming to push her out of office. I didn't think they'd bring up that thing about Ancient Elder Draggard-Phoenix being some kind of tyrant back in the day, just so that they could find some flaw of hers."

"Well, what did you expect? The five Ancient Elders each contributed to the building of the school, not to mention the entirety of Dragon society. Their descendants want a shot at the helm of the most prestigious dragon school for a change."

"I've heard it's true though. Principal Phoenix might turn rogue and become just like the old big bad Draggard-Phoenix. If it weren't for the fact that she doesn't have ebony scales like him, I think they'd have locked her up by now."

Ginger's eyes adopted a plethora of shapes as he heard different conversations, especially from his upperclassmen.

The dark dragon he had seen depicted twice now and shown a considerable level of respect, actually had a dark past. And this dark past extended to the burgundy-haired beauty that was his new Principal.

Most of the politics skipped over his head, but at the very least, Ginger got to understand somewhat what the color, rather, the cast of one's scales meant.

Apparently, it was related to the overall quality of dragon one was, but the wireless feed he listened to sometimes turned down different corridors, drew further away, or flat-out refused to place some emphasis on certain plot threads

'Damn it...' Ginger scowled. Just when he was starting to feel a bit knowledgeable.

Stolen novel; please report.

At least, he had a lot of earned rewards.

An interesting lesser detail he had learned, at least when compared to the rest of the stuff he had heard, was that in Ravi, the years were grouped into Tallies.

A Tally was equal to a thousand years, and dragons dated each Tally with the name of one of the five dragons beginning, of course, with the Ebony Dragon. For instance, the name of the current Tally: the 303rd Tally of the Vermillion Dragon.

The specific year of the Tally, as Ginger had heard, was only emphasized in writing.

The plump dragonling walked behind the rest of the First Year group to avoid being picked up as a subject. Slowly, Ginger found that he was making enemies just because of how he looked, but Principal Phoenix's speech concerning backgrounds gave him a bit of a boost to his confidence.

Right. He wasn't here for anyone other than himself... and his goals. It took facing opposition to finally get the idea to click in his head.

...

As Fotini wished them all goodnight from the entrance to the dorm, Ginger heard gasps of surprise from his peers who had already rushed inside.

He sped up too, driven by curiosity, and found a shocking sight.

Small creatures, little dragons – as he imagined they were – were carefully placing sheets of paper on each occupied bed, and quickly flying out the windows.

'They look just like Ira's!' Ginger thought as he rushed towards his bed.

Some of the colorful creatures sped past him as he went, flapping their small wings with an almost desperate effort, and at some point, Ginger realized that these little creatures were probably how everyone had their luggage moved into their dormitories.

As he reached his bed, his eyes got ensnared by a thick bordered paper onto which bold cursive was printed, and he picked it up.

"Uh..." Ginger squinted. He had trouble reading what was written. He had learned to read and write basic text, but some of the stuff written here...

'I got a class... and six courses to learn? Is that...Expired Times... and Diluted Histories? That's a course?' Ginger thought with a funny smile. It sounded like something Ancor would scream in his sleep.

"Ahem..." Ginger heard. He looked up and saw his bunkmate standing beside the bed. "If you would..."

"...Right," Ginger's face turned dark. His job as a ladder awaited.

Apparently, it was payment for using the lower bed. He didn't particularly mind, but he thought this dwarf of a dragon could be more polite about it, but he dreaded the possibility that the shorty would turn to him and scream out that he was an illegal good if he protested.

Needless to say, a few fits of genuine laughter sprang his and his bunk mate's way.

When the short boy was on top of the bed, he looked at Ginger, and the paper in his hand.

"Can I see that?" he asked, and Ginger gave him the paper.

The short boy gave it a quick browsing and returned it with an, "I see," before going back to pretending as if Ginger didn't exist.

The plump boy didn't really mind. He got back to trying to read through all he could on the paper when he heard a furious flapping behind him which prompted him to turn.

There, flying in place, stood two sights that completely caught him off guard.

Ira's little dragon was staring at him while in flight, in its claws... a brand new pewter grey uniform!

"Shunting Shamans!" Ginger beamed.

He relieved the little creature of its burden with a big smile.

A jersey, a shirt, a tie, a pair of trousers, socks, and even shoes. This was too good to be true!

Ira had delivered, saving him the trouble of asking.

Whoever said 'better late than never' perfectly captured what Ginger was feeling at this moment.

He was saved from another day of humiliation, especially with how busy the next day was going to be, or at least he imagined it was.

Without wasting any time, Ginger put on the uniform and found that while it wasn't a perfect fit, it was good enough. The shoes hurt a bit, the jersey was a little tight and the pants stuck firmly to his thighs, but this was as good as it could get for now.

Ginger was satisfied.

Besides, what would Ancor think if he suddenly turned nit-picky and snobbish? The rugged Shaman would be disappointed.

There was something else that the little creature had brought. Ginger had missed it because he was so excited about the uniform.

Ira had sent two large books, and a pen for him to use, which was also a welcome addition.

On top of the books, there was a note that read:

'Here's this. You'll probably need it. I want payment for it though.'

Ginger grimaced.

"Of course..." he said.

To emphasize the point on payment, Ira's little dragon flapped to his shoulder and opened its mouth.

As it didn't take a genius to guess where he was supposed to put the 'payment', Ginger scrambled through his sling bag and gave another pouch which was marked the same as the previous one he had given to Ira, to the messenger.

'I guess Ancor must have anticipated this, which is why he gave me two of whatever that is...' he thought while watching the little thing fly out the window.

Well, at least he didn't owe anyone anything now. Monetarily at least.

And now...

Ginger sat on his bed with a big smile.

'Now, I can make my own way. Tomorrow's going to be a new day,' the plump dragonling thought.