Hello, Academy

"Hey MacLeod, I've got a job for you."

"What do you want, you idiot? I have to clean up after your dad. I didn't sign up to be your babysitter too, you bastard."

"Watch what you say! I'm recording this conversation. Should I send the 'bastard' part to my dad?"

"Ahem... so what do you want?"

"There's a guy who needs a good beating. Break his legs, smash his fingers, cut off his ears—"

"Woah, slow down, kid! You said you were recording. No need for details. I know my job. Who's the target?"

"His name is Arthur Demont, a schoolboy. He was in the hospital 67 yesterday but may have been discharged by now. He's too good with his fists for a sick kid."

"Wait a minute. I don't mess with kids. You're on your own on this one. Get your friends if you're scared to fight him alone."

"I'm not scared. I've tried to deal with him myself. And my friends tried… to help me. He got us all."

"Hmm... I've trained you to fight in melee. You're lazy, but you can take care of yourself. So he is no ordinary schoolboy."

"He's a champion at some kind of children's Military Games or something."

"Ha! That's funny! What did you expect? That you'd beat him?"

"Look, MacLeod, I didn't just go in blind. I investigated and found out that he'd had an accident and lost control of his Prana. He didn't even use it during the fight... I think."

"You think?"

"Well, something strange happened at the beginning. Like he used some kind of Intimidate skill. It shook us all, and Hammy even started to cry."

"Are you serious? Intimidation is a skill of my level, the Kmet level."

"I don't know, MacLeod. Check it out for yourself."

"Strange... This guy sounds fascinating. Look, I'll do it, but only out of curiosity. Don't bother me with any more requests."

"I want you to mess him up, break his legs...And MacLeod...MacLeod? Damn you! He hung up!"

***

The tall black gates closed behind the departing taxi about five minutes ago, and yet here I am, still standing and marveling at the ornate buildings around me. Is this truly Prince Alexander Barrow Academy? It feels more like a summer palace for royalty: immaculate landscaped courtyards, avenues lined with maple trees, brick buildings adorned with white stone accents, Gothic detailing, and even pointed towers. Arches and lancet windows complete the picture.

I've never seen such stunning places in the Terrifying World. Over there, I encountered the ruins of sprawling megacities, lairs of Tyrannazes reeking with the stench of rotting, half-eaten prey, and subterranean caves teeming with mating Subterrors. Ah, what unforgettable memories.

I feel a pang of regret for not spending more time with my family. The day I was discharged from the hospital, I received an official letter from the academy. The Academic Council insisted that I start attending classes immediately, my health permitting. I would have preferred to delay it for a few days, but my parents were understandably anxious. They probably had a point. This institution is prestigious, and they don't hesitate to expel students for any significant infractions. Missing out on such an opportunity would indeed be foolish.

I sling my bag over my shoulder and make my way down the path. The trees are alive with the rustle of lush green leaves, and the curbs practically sparkle, snow-white and mirror-smooth. Ahead, groups of students lounge on the grass, so vividly green it looks freshly painted. Girls in short skirts catch the eyes of guys, who are practically drooling over their slender legs. The atmosphere is electric, filled with laughter and chatter. Many students cradle guitars and violins. A girl with a captivating face starts to sing, her voice so sweet it makes my heart flutter. Another accompanies her on the guitar. I pause to listen.

"Why are you just standing there?" A guy nudges me with his shoulder as he passes. "They've really lowered the bar, letting in riffraff like you, huh?"

Thinking yourself some sort of aristocrat, are we? I pick up my pace and execute a quick leg sweep. As the guy goes tumbling down, landing with a pained groan, I quip, "What's wrong, Your Highness? Can't keep your balance? Too used to being carried by servants, are you?"

I've barely taken a few steps when I come face-to-face with a trio of imposing guys — broad-shouldered, thick-necked, and muscular. They've effectively blocked my path. Their gaze shifts from the guy I've just floored to me, clearly sizing up the situation.

"Who do we have here who dares to defy us?" one of the boys sneers.

"I know who," another snarls maliciously. "Fresh me-e-a-at."

The third just snorts and waves me over. I weigh my options: should I drop my bag and prepare for a fight, or will they back off? The academy certainly doesn't allow street brawls in broad daylight.

"Demont!" A voice sounds behind me.

I turn round. An attractive young woman in a beige suit is looking straight at me.

"That's me," I reply with a nod.

"I'm Ella, your tutor. Follow me," she says, cutting through the trio like an icebreaker through frozen water. The boys obediently make way for her. I quickly follow her. As I pass, one of the them murmurs,"Demont... whose son is he?"

"A commoner," comes the contemptuous reply. "He's that notorious wimp everyone's talking about. He has no Prana. Look how insolent he is."

"Then let's teach him some manners," the first voice says.

With a wave of her hand, Ella summons a man in a blue uniform. She takes my bag and hands it to him. I'm surrounded by the scent of her perfume.

"Building four, room fourteen," Ella instructs, and the man leaves.

She leads me around the campus. 

"Let me show you the most important places. This is the dining hall. All meals are served on schedule except dinner, which is served any time between six and nine in the evening. The lights are out at 10:30. The first and second buildings are for academics. The third and fourth are dormitories. Your room is in the fourth building; here is your room key. Beyond the chestnut alley you'll find the music clubs. You'll probably be interested in the martial arts clubs — they're behind the hedge over there. The training grounds are next to the Military Games Club. You can even see its roof from here — notice the red tiles glinting in the sun?"

"I don't need it," I say, not even looking in the direction she's pointing. "I'd rather you show me where the Saxophone Club is."

Ella gives me a slight smile. "A joker, eh?" She says, not really appreciating my interest in the peaceful arts. "Leaving the Academy grounds is forbidden. While you're studying here, we're responsible for you." Her delicate hand points to a passing security guard in uniform with a pistol on his belt. They're serious, aren't they? "Security is everywhere. They'll also protect you from other students if necessary. It's no secret that many of the high-born students don't take their less noble classmates seriously. The main thing is not to be provoked. Don't get dragged into a ring or arena. The security won't be able to intervene there."

"I stopped being afraid of kids a long time ago," I snort.

Ella looks at me in surprise.

"What kids, Arthur? The students here are your age, if not older."

"Well, I guess they haven't grown up mentally if they have to be kept apart," I say.

Damn, I forgot I'm only sixteen myself. I must get used to being the young one here.

"That's all for now, Arthur," Ella gives me a light pat on the shoulder. "Your things are already in your room, along with your new school uniform. Your parents have provided the size. If anything doesn't fit, you can exchange it in building five — that's where the staff are. Your timetable is on your bedside table. Classes start tomorrow, so you can relax today."

I catch her delicate fingers as her hand slips from my jacket. I hold it just long enough to see her eyes widen, becoming as big as the sun, then I release it gently.

"I'd like to relax, but I have no one to relax with," I say with a wistful sigh and a wink. "Would you keep me company?"

"Arthur Demont!" Ella exclaims, her cheeks turning red. "This is an academy! Try to be civilized."

"All right," I raise my hands in a gesture of peace. "But you can't be angry with me. Any man in my position would've taken the risk," I look at the students milling about in the distance.

Ella tries to keep a straight face, but her flushed cheeks give her away.

"Go to your room before I send you to class."

"Won't you walk me out?" I smile.

"Demont!" She tries to sound stern, but it feels closer to pleading. "Enough."

She fidgets with the collar of her blouse and glances sideways. I follow her gaze and spot a camera lens. Definitely not this time.

"Got it. See you, Tutor Ella."