Academy: Knowledge is Power.

"...Well, that's not something you see every day." A deep, resonant voice stirred me awake. I opened my eyes and found myself lying face down on some kind of white flooring.

My mind quickly pieced together what had happened, but I forced myself to rise calmly, as if I'd meant to land face-first all along--perhaps I'd been a bit too optimistic about this "new beginning."

While straightening my clothes, I swiftly surveyed the small room. We were standing on a central, white, circular platform, the only part connected to the surrounding structure being a narrow walkway leading to what appeared to be the exit. I strongly suspected that the silver-gray metal forming the walls around us was adamantine, shaping the room into what looked like the inside of a sphere.

Piqsirpoq stood nearby, arms crossed and ears perked up in a vigilant stance. His tail's anxious flicking betrayed a hint of unease. Following his gaze, I saw the owner of that deep voice.

In my mind, herbivores should be somewhat slender and lean, but the one standing before me made it clear just how ignorant I was about this world.

Unlike Piqsirpoq's tense posture, his stance was entirely casual. He wore gray trousers and a white T-shirt made of some flexible fabric that hung loosely on his frame. Yet, aside from the outline of a circular pendant on his chest, I could easily imagine the thick muscles beneath from the faint outlines of his chest and the bare arms.

I shook my head vigorously, dispelling the image.

He was a bit smaller than Qana, but still taller than most gray wolves, standing at least 180 centimeters. His massive, multi-pronged antlers crowned his head like a regal diadem, adding another twenty centimeters to his height and making an imposing statement about his status and power.

His eyes were of a style I was familiar with; after seeing dragons and bighorn sheep, they seemed almost ordinary. The color of his irises matched his short, dark brown fur. Those deep eyes patiently bore my unabashedly curious stare, accompanied by a friendly smile.

Realizing how rude I was being, I quickly lowered my gaze, no longer staring directly at this deer of unknown species. This earned a chuckle from him as he shifted his weight to the other leg. It was then that I noticed the relatively thick mane around his neck and the lighter-colored fur above his collar--who knows how far down it extended...

I really needed to stop imagining what he looked like without clothes.

"Ah, Leafshade, welcome to the team!" the deer turned and greeted a gray wolf walking over from the narrow platform with evident cheer.

"I've told you before, don't call me that when there's a Senate wolf around! If your grass-eating tongue can't pronounce my name, that's your problem!" The wolf, a Mottle, looked as disheveled as one might expect from his faction, his messy fur clearly untouched by a comb for at least a decade, and his sleepy expression made it seem like he wasn't paying attention to anything happening around him.

"Which one do you want?" the deer ignored Mottle's grumpy tone entirely and asked, glancing at us.

"I've said before, if it's Snow here, there's only one possibility, and I don't want--" Mottle's gaze shifted to us, and he froze mid-sentence. I'm not exaggerating--he stopped entirely, like a video paused at a single frame. I guess he'd just noticed us--or more precisely, just noticed me.

Well, goodbye, "new beginning."

"Piqsirpoq," Mottle said, his tone flat and emotionless. A memory flashed in my mind--rumors about the taboos and limits of different faction. One of them said that when a Mottle stopped their usual dramatic antics, things were very serious.

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"Arrogant, loudmouthed, simple-minded nuisance?" the deer raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said--"

"Shut up." Mottle's tone didn't change as he used wolf body language to signal Piqsirpoq to follow him before turning to head toward the exit.

The tall deer signaled with his eyes for Piqsirpoq to go after Mottle.

Before heading off, Piqsirpoq gave me a supportive glance, offering a signal of encouragement and reassurance, then patted my arm before jogging after Mottle.

"Well, looks like it's just the two of us now." The deer waved me over. "I can tell you have a lot of questions, but we don't have much time."

We walked side by side out of the room, entering a curved hallway that stretched endlessly in both directions. Just great, more vast, indistinguishable architecture.

"Since everyone else arrived last night, I'll just give you a brief overview of the important stuff, and we'll go over the rest later." His long strides exuded a steady confidence. Maybe it had to do with his physique, or perhaps it was because of those magnificent antlers?

As we passed various intersections, I tried to find any clear markers to help navigate, but quickly gave up. Hoping that things would magically change overnight was just wishful thinking. At least I should be free to use my psychic abilities now, right? I knew that in the days ahead, detecting waves would become a constant practice.

"Just to confirm, that's an adamantine weapon, right?" the tall deer asked, glancing at the sword on my belt.

I nodded, instinctively gripping the hilt--wondering what Qana was up to now.

"I'm really envious. Leafshade also has an adamantine weapon from the Senate." He muttered wistfully, his gaze unfocused. "Herbivores have much weaker Domination; not many have the ability to forge an adamantine weapon..."

I'd never considered that belonging to a group that despised me could still give me an advantage others could never reach. Perhaps some things weren't as straightforward as I thought.

But before I could ask more about herbivores and psychic abilities, the deer suddenly snapped out of his melancholy.

"I should remind you, for the psychic assessment later, I'd recommend not bringing the adamantine weapon. It might skew the results." He pointed to my sword and gestured vaguely in the air. "The assessment is definitely a chance to showcase your power, make statements, or attract allies. But knowing your true capabilities is crucial when choosing which subjects to focus on, especially since this is your first assessment." He shot me a quick glance. "Besides, the Senate wolves are a dominant group in the academy. Getting involved in faction politics can wait until after you've chosen a mentor."

He clearly hadn't grasped the meaning behind Mottle's attitude earlier. I could only respond gratefully, hoping that the "dominant group" wasn't as dominant as he suggested.

"Where were we? Oh, right, the brief overview." The deer clasped his fist in his palm, answering his own question. "You can think of me as your guide," he said, chuckling as if at some private joke. "Students usually refer to this as..." He tilted his head, looking at me. "...'Senior Mentor,' I guess. I'm supposed to help you get to know the academy, offer some guidance, and take responsibility for your actions." He shrugged and pursed his lips. I wasn't entirely sure if that had some other meaning among herbivores.

An antelope came around the corner, stopped when they saw us, and let us pass. My "Senior Mentor" casually waved back, showing no intention of slowing down or engaging in conversation.

"Most Federation citizens are very mindful of seniority. If you want to get along with them, you'll need to pay attention to etiquette and formalities." The deer explained Federation social customs briefly, including when to use titles and how to address others.

"Yes, Senior Mentor." I lowered my ears and bowed my head. I wondered if some gray wolves might find it awkward to lower themselves to another species--especially to a herbivore. But perhaps because I'd never felt a sense of belonging among the wolves, showing deference to someone didn't really depend on their species.

What I didn't expect was for the tall deer to shiver and then burst out laughing, giving me a hearty slap on the back that nearly made me jump.

"Please don't do that again! You're giving me goosebumps." His booming laughter echoed down the empty hallway. "Bowing to a large deer species is a challenge."

"Sorry." I scratched my slightly warm ears, noting the information. "I'll keep that in mind."

He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow at my apology. His overly eager scrutiny made me uncomfortable, and I averted my gaze.

Without warning, the Senior Mentor suddenly stopped, and I had to halt abruptly as well. The sharp screech of metal scraping under my snow boots reminded me that maybe I should've worn a different pair. Whatever, I had the blueprint stored in my terminal; I could deal with it later.

"I just realized I forgot to ask your name. How terribly rude of me." He stood firm, turning to face me. "What's the Empire's custom for introducing oneself...?" He tilted his head as if talking to himself rather than asking me.

This deer's behavior so far gave me the impression that he thought aloud and acted on whatever came to mind. Although he sometimes seemed to overlook details or miss the bigger picture, he also had deep insights overall. Maybe that's what they mean by "rough yet delicate"? I had a feeling we might get along well.

"Richter." I said, extending my right hand to him.

"Oh, fantastic! Simple, easy to remember, and rolls right off the tongue. You might be the first Senate wolf whose name I can actually pronounce," the senior said with a smile as he shook my hand. "Just don't let Leafshade find out."

I responded with a sheepish grin, considering that someday I might explain to him that a Mottle's name is typically a verse of poetry, unlike the less complex names of other factions.

The warmth from his firm handshake spread through me, and I met his brown eyes again. His smile, revealing a mouthful of flat molars, didn't evoke any discomfort--instead, it seemed to tell me that there were still so many unknown things in the world, waiting for me to discover.

"Yoshihara Kotetsu," the senior said, as if suddenly remembering what he had intended to do before releasing my hand. "But you can just call me Kotetsu."