As I stepped through the city of Endreas, bag slung over my shoulder, I couldn't help but take it all in. The sight of it still fascinated me, even after the short time I’d been here. Paved roads stretched out ahead, the kind you’d imagine only for kings and nobles back in the small town I grew up in, now freely used by the locals. Wagons and carriages rolled smoothly along the streets, and the sky above was filled with more Wheiteres than I’d ever seen in one place, their wings gliding effortlessly through the air like they owned the skies.
There was something about this place—the busy streets, the towering buildings made of both stone and wood, the energy of a bustling city I wasn’t used to. There was a magic in the air that felt... promising. But even with all of that, the moment I caught my first glimpse of the school itself, that feeling quickly faded.
My steps slowed as the school building came into view. I stood still for a moment, staring at it. It was massive, far larger than I expected, but somehow, it didn’t match the beauty of the city. The walls were stone, worn and chipped in places, like it had seen more than its fair share of rough days. Ivy crawled up the side, but not in a charming way—more like it had been left untended for too long. Some of the windows were cracked, others fogged with grime.
The building itself was shaped almost like an old fortress, large towers rising up into the air, but they didn’t inspire awe. They were crumbling in places, patched up with mismatched materials, giving the whole place a disjointed feel. The front gate, black iron, stood wide open, creaking slightly in the wind.
The courtyard was no better. Cobblestones beneath my feet were uneven, with patches of dirt and weeds pushing through. Students walked around, some sitting in groups, others standing alone, but something about the air here was different from the city. Rougher. Gritty.
It felt like the school itself was fighting to hold itself together.
“Is this really it?” I muttered under my breath, feeling a weight settle in my gut. “It looks like thugs go here.”
I could already feel doubt creeping in, making me question if this school was as prestigious as I’d been told. Sure, the city was impressive, but the school? It didn’t inspire confidence. Instead, it made me feel... numb, like I was about to waste my time in a place that didn’t deserve my efforts.
But I was here now, and there was no turning back. All I could do was press forward, bag on my shoulder, hoping this place had something more to offer than what it showed on the surface.
Walking through the gates of the school, I couldn't help but take in the sheer diversity of people around me. The doubt I felt about the place's appearance still lingered, but the students here were unlike any I’d ever seen back in my small town. Endreas might’ve had its flaws, but there was no denying it brought together a crowd of all sorts.
As I walked, I saw people of many ethnicities, their features and skin tones varying in ways that reminded me of just how big the world really was. But it wasn’t just that—there were mixes of races that I’d only heard about in passing stories. As I passed one group, my eyes caught sight of an echidna girl, her skin a pale, snake-like texture. She wore the standard school uniform, though she had a large black cloak draped around her shoulders, probably to keep warm. Her lack of hair made her stand out even more, and I couldn’t help but glance back as I moved past.
A little farther ahead, two minotaurs stood by a set of lockers, casually talking as if they weren’t towering over everyone else. They were huge—probably well over two meters tall—and wore shorts and golf shirts, a different spin on the school uniform that didn’t seem to fit their imposing size. Their horns curled up from their heads, and they laughed loudly at something, shaking the ground beneath them with each step.
I was so caught up in all the new sights that I didn’t even notice someone walking up to me until I heard a voice.
"Hi there!" a cheerful voice rang out.
I turned and saw a girl standing in front of me, smiling. Her ears were pointy, and her hair was a fiery shade of red that immediately caught my eye.
"Are you an elf?" I asked without thinking, the words slipping out.
Her smile faltered, confusion flashing across her face as she tilted her head. "Um, yes, I am... but what of it?"
An awkward silence immediately fell between us. I felt the words hang in the air, and a strange tension settled in. I tried to think of something to say to break the silence, something to make up for my blunt question.
"Uh... where I come from, we don’t get much of your kind," I said, hoping to explain myself.
She blinked a few times before responding, her voice less enthusiastic now. "Umm, yeah, I see."
Great. I had just made things worse.
The silence grew even more awkward, and I could feel my face heat up slightly. Why did I have to ask that? It seemed so harmless in my head, but now I just felt like an idiot. She stood there, shifting her weight slightly, clearly unsure how to respond to me anymore.
"Well, nice meeting you," she mumbled, giving a half-hearted wave before turning to walk away.
I stood there, watching her turn away, mentally kicking myself. First day at this new school, and I’d already managed to make things weird. "Damn, smooth, Griffin... really smooth," I muttered under my breath.
As I continued to wander my thoughts were interrupted by a sudden burst of light. I looked up just in time to see a single firework streaking across the sky before erupting in a brilliant explosion of color. The dazzling display grabbed the attention of everyone nearby, and a hush fell over the crowd.
Curiosity piqued, I followed the collective gaze to the source of the firework. There, high above the courtyard, was an improvised platform hovering in mid-air, held aloft by a masterful use of earth manipulation magic. The platform was simple but impressive, floating effortlessly with a gentle, shimmering glow.
Atop the platform stood a figure draped in robes adorned with medals and accolades, a clear sign of prominence. The figure's presence commanded immediate attention, and the crowd below stared up in awe.
The figure cleared his throat and raised his voice, projecting it across the courtyard with a confident, booming tone. "I WELLCOME ALL OF YOU NEWBIES TO ENDREAS MAGE ACADEMY!"
The proclamation was met with enthusiastic applause from the crowd, and I noticed a few of the female students shooting admiring glances at the speaker. Clearly, this was someone of significant importance.
The figure introduced himself with a flourish. "I am Philip Kirstein, your Representative Mage Council president."
Philip Kirstein’s voice was rich and full of charisma, and he held himself with a commanding air of authority. As he spoke, he gestured grandly with his hands, as if to emphasize the grandeur of the occasion.
He continued, "We will be having a short tour around the school, so get to being familiar with your guiding Representative Council guide."
The excitement among the new students was palpable, and I could see groups of them already starting to cluster around their assigned guides, eager to begin their introductions to the various facets of the school.
I watched as Philip Kirstein’s platform slowly descended to the ground, the earth beneath him shifting to gently bring him down. His confident stride and the impressive display of magical prowess left a strong impression on me. This was no ordinary school—this was a place where even the welcome ceremonies were conducted with flair and mastery of magic.
As the platform touched down, students eagerly began to follow their guides, the earlier tension and awkwardness forgotten in the face of this new and thrilling experience. I took a deep breath and mentally prepared myself for the day ahead.
I turned to Cierra, who had been standing beside me during the spectacle. “What even is a Representative Mage exactly?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around the role amidst all the pomp and circumstance.
Cierra looked thoughtful for a moment before responding, “We represent the concerns and problems of our mage students, ensuring that they feel heard.”
I nodded, processing the information. “Does it work?”
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Her face flushed slightly, and I could sense a hesitation in her response. She seemed to be carefully choosing her words. “It works,” she said finally, though her tone carried an air of uncertainty.
The slight falter in her voice left me with lingering doubts. It seemed like she was trying to be diplomatic rather than fully transparent, and her response didn’t exactly reassure me. Nevertheless, it was clear that the system was in place, if not entirely effective.
Cierra, sensing that I needed more clarification, decided to give me a tour of the school. As we walked, she began to explain more about the Representative Mage Council and its purpose. “The Representative Mage Council functions somewhat like the student councils you might have seen in high schools,” she started. “We’re here to voice the concerns of the students and have a say in how things are run at the academy.”
I listened intently, trying to picture how this system of representation worked in the context of a school for mages. “So, it’s like having a direct line to the administration for the students? They help address issues and make changes based on feedback?”
“Exactly,” Cierra confirmed. “The Council has a lot more influence here than a typical student council might. We have regular meetings with the school’s administration and can propose changes or improvements. Our role is to ensure that the needs and concerns of the mage students are taken into account.”
As we continued our tour, Cierra pointed out various parts of the campus, explaining their significance and the role of the Council in maintaining student welfare. Despite the earlier uncertainty about the effectiveness of the Council, it was clear that Cierra took her role seriously and was dedicated to representing the students.
The grandiosity of the school and its impressive facilities began to grow on me, but my initial doubts about the system and its representatives lingered. I couldn’t help but wonder if the Council’s impact would be as substantial as it was portrayed. For now, though, I would follow Cierra’s lead and experience the academy firsthand, hoping that the reality would prove more promising than the doubts I held.
As Cierra led me through the bustling corridors of Endreas Mage Academy, my mind drifted back to the student body councils from my old high school. The concept seemed familiar, though with a distinct magical twist. The Representative Mage Council, it seemed, was akin to those high school student councils, but with far more influence and responsibility.
I glanced at Cierra, noting her uniform with a mixture of curiosity and admiration. She wore a tailored deep blue blazer, its silver buttons gleaming under the hallway lights. The blazer was adorned with red embroidered cuffs and collar, giving it an elegant touch. Underneath, a crisp white shirt peeked out, and a deep blue tie completed the look, prominently displaying the school’s emblem.
Her pleated blue skirt fell just above her knees, a practical yet stylish choice, complemented by thigh-high blue stockings that adhered to the school’s dress code. What caught my attention, however, was the white scarf draped over her shoulders. The scarf bore two medals: one marked her as a Representative Mage, and the other indicated her position representing Class D of the sophomores. The medals gleamed with a polished sheen, signifying both her role and the class she advocated for.
The detailed uniform, combined with her confident stride, spoke volumes about her dedication to her role. Despite my earlier doubts about the Representative Mage Council’s effectiveness, it was clear that Cierra took her responsibilities seriously. The ceremonial medals and meticulously kept attire were not just for show; they represented a tangible commitment to her role and the students she served.
“Your uniform looks quite different from what I’m used to,” I said, attempting to bridge the gap between my previous experiences and the new environment. “Back in my town, uniforms were pretty standard. This one is much more detailed.”
Cierra glanced down at her outfit and then back at me, a small smile playing on her lips. “Yes, it’s quite the contrast. The medals and the attire reflect the seriousness of our roles here. We’re not just students; we’re here to represent and make a difference.”
I nodded, absorbing her words. The thought of the Representative Mage Council as an influential body with ceremonial significance was starting to sink in. Despite my earlier skepticism, I could see that the role came with a certain gravitas, underscored by the intricate details of Cierra’s uniform.
As we continued the tour, I couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of anticipation. If the Representative Mage Council was as integral to the school’s operations as it appeared, then perhaps the academy itself had layers of complexity that I had yet to uncover. And maybe, just maybe, the Council’s impact was more significant than I initially gave it credit for.
As Cierra guided me through the sprawling campus of Endreas Mage Academy, I couldn’t help but observe the diversity among the students. The newcomers, like myself, wore crisp, pristine uniforms, their attire symbolizing their fresh start at the academy. In contrast, the returning students had added personal touches to their uniforms—embroidered patches, unique accessories, and custom modifications—that reflected their individual personalities and achievements. The mix of traditional and personalized elements created a vibrant tapestry of school spirit and personal expression.
Our first stop on the tour was the library, a majestic edifice that seemed to breathe history and knowledge. As we approached, Cierra spoke with reverence, “The library we have here stands as our institution’s beacon of knowledge. Both sorcerers and mages alike rely on it.”
The grandeur of the library was immediately apparent as we crossed the threshold. Towering shelves, stretching towards the five-meter high ceiling, loomed like sentinels guarding ancient secrets. Each shelf was meticulously organized, holding countless volumes of dusty tomes and magical manuscripts. The sight was both awe-inspiring and humbling.
Soft whispers of pages turning and the faint, comforting scent of aged paper filled the air. It was as though the library itself was alive, its silence punctuated only by the occasional rustle of someone seeking wisdom. The atmosphere was serene, with the gentle glow of enchanted lamps casting a warm light that seemed to dance across the spines of the books.
Rows of oak reading tables, polished to a deep sheen, were scattered throughout, inviting students to sit and immerse themselves in their studies. The walls were adorned with intricate woodwork and arcane symbols, hinting at the magical history embedded within the library’s vast collection. Here and there, ornate ladders were leaned against shelves, enabling access to the higher reaches of the books.
As I took in the scene, I felt a sense of awe and respect for this place. The library was not just a repository of knowledge but a sanctuary for those seeking enlightenment. Cierra’s words rang true as I stood in the midst of this academic haven, feeling a mixture of excitement and reverence for the journey that lay ahead.
“Wow,” I managed to say, genuinely impressed by the scale and atmosphere of the library. “This is amazing.”
Cierra smiled, clearly pleased by my reaction. “I’m glad you think so. It’s one of the most important resources we have here. You’ll find that many of our most profound discoveries and studies begin right here in these halls.”
As we continued the tour, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the library was a metaphor for the academy itself—vast, filled with untapped potential, and brimming with opportunities for those willing to explore its depths.
I then noticed a commotion from a distance. A student, who looked like he was absolutely captivated by the books around him, was practically buried in a row of towering shelves. His tour guide, a girl with a no-nonsense demeanor in the school uniform, was trying to coax him away from the books. Curiosity got the better of me, and I stopped to listen.
“Eitri,” the tour guide said, her tone both patient and firm. “I know the library is exciting, but we have to keep moving. There’s a lot more to see and discuss.”
Eitri, his face illuminated with enthusiasm, barely looked up from the book he was leafing through. “But Ndidi, this book—” he said, his voice trailing off as he flipped through pages. “It’s about ancient magical practices! I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Ndidi sighed, clearly accustomed to this sort of behavior. “Yes, I understand it’s fascinating, but you can’t spend the entire day here. We have a schedule to follow, and it’s important to get an overview of the campus. You’ll have plenty of time to dive into the books later.”
Eitri’s eyes remained glued to the text. “But this spell—it’s supposed to be revolutionary! I have to know how it works. Please, just a few more minutes?”
Ndidi’s patience was wearing thin, but she managed a smile. “Eitri, we have to be fair to everyone on the tour. You can come back to this later. For now, let’s finish the tour so you’ll have a better understanding of where everything is. Think of it as getting the lay of the land before you dive into the details.”
Eitri looked up finally, his expression a mix of reluctance and eagerness. “Fine, fine. But can I at least get the title of this book? I promise I’ll return to it later.”
Ndidi, now visibly relieved, nodded. “Of course. I’ll make sure you get the details. But let’s move on for now, okay?”
Eitri reluctantly closed the book and followed Ndidi, though his eyes kept drifting back to the rows of books. I could see the struggle between his excitement and the necessity of moving on, and I couldn’t help but smile at the sight. The library was clearly a place of endless fascination for many, and Eitri’s passion was a testament to that.
As they walked away, I turned to Cierra, who had been observing the interaction with a bemused expression. “Looks like the library’s got some serious fans,” I said.
Cierra chuckled. “Oh, definitely. It’s easy to get lost in here, especially when you’re new and everything is so intriguing.”
We continued our tour, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of excitement Eitri had displayed. The library was indeed a place of wonder, and it seemed like everyone had their own way of connecting with its vast troves of knowledge.
As I stepped into the chemistry lab, I was immediately struck by the atmosphere. The flickering gas lamps cast an eerie, wavering light over the room, giving the space a mysterious and almost otherworldly glow. Rows of wooden workstations, polished but worn from years of use, were lined up neatly, each one equipped with an array of scientific apparatus. Pipettes, burettes, and beakers stood in precise alignment, ready for the next experiment. The smell of chemicals, both sharp and acrid, mingled with a faint, sweet undertone of coal smoke coming from the chemical oven in the corner. The oven’s iron door was slightly ajar, and I could hear the soft crackle of combustion inside. The blue flames of Bunsen burners danced beneath ceramic crucibles and evaporating dishes, their hissing sounds adding to the lab’s symphony of scientific activity. The gentle gurgle of liquids and the occasional clink of glassware provided a constant reminder of the wonders of chemistry unfolding within these walls.
I was about to reach for an idle glass beaker resting on a wooden workstation when the door slammed open with a force that made everyone jump. A teacher burst into the lab, his face flushed and eyes wild with manic anger. “WHO ALLOWED FOR MY LABORATORY TO BE A TOURIST ATTRACTION??!” he roared, his voice echoing off the walls.
Phil, the representative mage council president, sighed heavily, clearly stressed by the unexpected disruption. He walked over to the enraged teacher, attempting to defuse the situation. “Principal thought that it would be a great experience for the—”
But the teacher cut him off, his frustration palpable. “Hell to that old man, always wanting to show off!”
The room fell into an uneasy silence as everyone turned their attention to the confrontation between Phil and the lab director. The director’s face was set in a scowl, and he continued, “What are you staring at? Everybody GET OUT OF HERE!!!”
The command was immediate and decisive, and the lab’s occupants quickly began to gather their things and make their way towards the exit. I followed Cierra out of the lab, the tension still palpable in the air.
As we walked away, I couldn’t help but make a jest. “Looks like your club doesn’t have as much power as expected,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.
Cierra pouted slightly, her cheeks puffing out in a show of mock indignation. “We are taken seriously when it matters,” she replied with a hint of defiance.
I chuckled, appreciating her attempt to stay positive despite the chaotic scene. “Well, I guess every institution has its moments,” I said, glancing back at the now-empty lab. The incident had been unexpected, but it added an interesting twist to the day’s tour. As we continued through the school, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this place was full of surprises, both good and bad.
As Cierra and I walked through the school field, the place buzzed with the casual activity of students. The grass was dotted with students lounging in various states of relaxation—some buried in textbooks, others chatting animatedly with friends, and a few lost in their own thoughts. The serene scene felt almost like a snapshot of tranquility, and Cierra’s voice broke through my reverie.
“Doesn’t it feel like family here?” she said, her tone warm and inviting, but there was a hint of something she wasn't quite sharing.
I glanced around, trying to take in every detail, and my eyes landed on a shadowy corner where the bushes grew thick. The subtle rustling and the occasional burst of laughter from that direction piqued my curiosity. “What’s going on over there in that shadowy corner?”
Cierra’s eyes widened in surprise, clearly not expecting me to notice. She hesitated, her cheeks flushing a bit. “Oh, um… don’t pay too much mind to that.”
I couldn’t help but press on. “It smells oddly sweet and euphoric.”
Cierra’s face turned a deeper shade of red, and she suddenly looked like she wanted to sink into the ground. “N-no, of course not! It’s just… a little tradition. Sometimes students get together for... special activities.”
The way she stammered only fueled my growing suspicion. “Special activities?” I echoed, my mind racing with possibilities.
Before she could respond, a burst of laughter erupted from the bushes, and a plume of fragrant smoke wafted out, confirming my hunch. I couldn’t suppress a smirk as I watched Cierra’s reaction. She looked mortified, her eyes darting nervously from side to side.
“Well,” I thought to myself, “this is no doubt a school for thugs.” The thought was both amusing and a bit alarming.
Cierra tried to regain her composure and steer the conversation elsewhere, but the damage was done. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. This place was certainly shaping up to be far more colorful than I had anticipated.