17. First Day of Class

Christie woke up to… literal light.

"Now that is surprising," the girl muttered groggily to herself as she rose from her rather small bed. It was certainly a change from her former one – the one in her mansion, not the other one in the dormitory – as it was as big as the closet she resided in, but it was by no means at all a bad change. She was tall, not wide, after all.

She was surprised to find light because she was, as a matter of fact, sleeping in a glorified closet. She had expected to spend her first year in the academy in darkness – and in more senses than one – but instead a small vein of agate illuminated the small room, especially concentrating around the area her head rested in.

With a groan, the redhead rose up from the bed and stretched her arms. It was a bad idea.

"Ouch…" She yelped pathetically as she rubbed her knuckles after having hit one of her hands against the wall.

Whilst the room was illuminated, she preferred more natural light to the lethargic glow of agates, so after putting on some slippers, she stepped out of her closet. And she was surprised to find even less light.

"Huh," Christie slowly walked up to the balcony without waking up her roommate and found out that the sun had yet to rise.

Silently and hastily, she slipped out to the balcony, closing the door before the cold air could rush into the room. Considering the sun had yet to make an appearance, the outside was cold, and it didn't help that the balcony's chairs were made out of patchwork stone. Beautiful with its myriad patches of mismatched stone and colors, yes, but awfully cold. The problem wasn't the dawn zephyr – that one was lovely – but the lingering cold from the night.

"I guess it makes sense that the lights turn on in my room before the sun comes out. They were the lodgings for servants, after all," she commented as she exhaled on her hands to heat them up.

She was cold, yes, but at the same time, the idea of seeing the sunrise whilst sitting on the balcony was a lovely one. Romantic, one might say. The wait could have been way easier if she could just let out a fraction of her agates, but that was difficult. And the moment she substituted the Sleep command for Heat… it would cause a chain reaction where all her agates would adopt her command.

"That is why you are here, Christie," she softly whispered to herself, "to learn to control your agates."

The gloomy mood was thankfully dissipated as a ring appeared across the horizon that illuminated the capital of Crocheta with lovely sunrays that were made visible from the morning fog coming down from the mountains. It was hard to look at the sun, but if you managed it correctly, you could look at its center without hurting your eyes. Not that she tried. With another stretch and a groan, Christie walked back into the room. She had a roommate to wake up.

"Agatha," Christie shook the arm of the girl who was placidly sleeping on the big bed. "Wake up, Agatha. The sun is out already." The girl refused to wake up. "Hmm, what to do, what to do?" The redhead mused pensively. "Normally in stories they would…" she blushed, "whisper something naughty in the ear… No! I cannot do that! So… what could wake up a girl of my age?" Christie tapped her cheekbone deep in thought. "Wake up, Agatha. There is... pudding?" She tried whispering to no avail. "What about… agates?" Nothing. "I guess that was a given," she sighed. "Erm… whoosh, whoosh?"

Christie tried imitating the sound of water – albeit poorly – and whilst it showed some progress as Agatha's face twisted in distress, the girl decided to stoop. Otherwise, they might find an accident on the bedsheets.

"So what about...?" Christie blushed at her own thoughts. "Steamy romance novels?" No reaction. "Okay, now I feel like a fool. Maybe I am even one. It would not be a surprise. Only a clown would act like this," the girl sighed and stopped herself from going into a deeper and faster downward spiral of self-deprecation. "What about…" She blew into Agatha's ear. Not quite, but close. So she buzzed like a mosquito on her ear.

It worked.

"Ahhhh!" The blond girl jolted awake as she grabbed her ear. "Where's that fucker?" Agatha then turned to face Christie and then blushed. "Oh, hi… Christie. I… uhm… good morning?"

Christie smiled at the girl's lack of decorum, but she couldn't blame her as it was her fault. And it had been quite funny.

"Good morning, Agatha!" She beamed her a smile. "You should get up already, the sun is out. And we do not have much time to have breakfast at the mess hall before classes start."

"Classes start?" The short girl inquired groggily. Then her eyes shot wide open. "Classes start!"

Agatha jumped out of her bed and prepared to remove her nightgown, until she realized that Christie was next to her. Then she blushed.

"I know that the room is not that big, but…"

"Fret not," Christie interrupted her. "I will leave the door to my room open, that way we can change with a wall separating us."

"Thank you…" Agatha added softly alongside a blush and a slight bow, and even though her behavior was the complete opposite from that moment, Christie was reminded of that moment during the statal examination where the girl shone brightly after putting on a marvelous performance after the Agatecraft test.

"No problem!" Shyness almost avoided Christie when she talked with her, and she didn't know why, but she was thankful for it.

With a sly movement of her hands, the redhead grabbed her uniform from the wardrobe and a fresh set of undergarments before she proceeded to change herself.

***

The morning rush was even more brutal on the first day of classes. Whilst the number of students in the whole Skyscraper Academy didn't go beyond the early three digits, the mess hall was still… well, a mess. Though it was more due to the fact that many soldiers worked around the bell here.

"This is quite the frenetic experience," Agatha said with all smiles and zero nervousness, which was quite the opposite of Christie. If people looked at them, they would have said she was the newcomer and not the blond girl.

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"Today is even more so," Christie explained as they waited in line. "I think it is because it is the first day of classes, but considering I have only been here before classes started and the students woke up at whatever time they wanted… maybe it will be like this for the rest of our instruction."

"That does not sound well, but," her roommate hummed deep in thought, "I guess it could be worse. It is not like food is going to run out, is it?"

"No, I doubt so," the redhead swayed her head, her long hair lagging behind her. She had been leaving it free all these days for many reasons. Mostly because it was cold at the academy. And clearly because she didn't know how to groom her hair! "And if it did… well, we were not too tardy, so at least there should be food for us."

"I wish," Agatha rolled her eyes. "I desperately need food. And more sleep. Also a bath." For a commoner, she had the demands of a princess.

Then they reached the counter where the ladies of the kitchen served the food for the whole institution, not only the students. That was when Agatha's smile faded.

"I no longer desperately need food," she dropped her tray on the table. They were alone as there were far more tables than ladies serving food. "I mean, what is this? Liquified rock?"

"Gruel, actually," Christie corrected her.

"Last time I checked, gruel was not gray. And let me tell you, I have cooked my share bit of them."

"You cook?" Her eyes glistered in surprise. It seemed like an alien concept for someone of her age to cook.

"Yeah?" Agatha frowned at her. "Cooking can take a fair bit of time, but if I do not cook myself when my mom is outside, I will just starve."

"Huh," Christie mused as she grabbed a saucer and slowly dropped its contents on top of her gruel as she drew a spiral with the movement.

"Whazzat?" Her roommate coughed. "I mean, what is that?"

"Gravy," she pushed the saucer toward her. "Want to try?"

"Sure, why not?" Agatha shrugged. "Better than eating literal monochrome gruel."

It was true that monochrome was a remarkable insult, for if one's life was as decorated with as many colorful agates as them, black and white was not something commonly seen.

Christie took a spoonful directly from her plate, whilst Agatha waited to stir the contents a bit so the gray gruel and the red-brown gravy mixed properly. Her roommate gingerly tasted the plate, then her eyes illuminated like agates wielding the Light command.

"You know what, this is quite decent," she nodded in satisfaction.

"Decent is the utmost correct word in this situation," Christie let out a small giggle. "Otherwise, all the nobles hosted at the academy would have revolted already."

"Is this not a military academy? Nobles revolting against the military, what a… tautology? Is that the word?" Agatha frowned in confusion.

"I… think I know what you are referring to, but I do not know if tautology would be the appropriate term for this case. Not that I can name now at the moment, I fear I am still rather groggy."

"How has your bed treated you?" Her roommate said with a glass of water in her hand.

The nouveau riche tried to avoid the academy's water; it tasted a bit… off. But unfortunately, humans couldn't live without it. She tried to have tea or juices most of the time, but this wasn't the right time, unfortunately. Agatha drank from her glass without the displeasure Christie normally had with the academy's water.

"I would say poorly if it were not for the fact that I had to sleep on the bench of a carriage for weeks. But otherwise, it has not been a bad experience at all. I do not tend to move whilst sleeping, so the diminished size of the bed has not affected me in the slightest. And I would dare to say that the mattresses are of the same quality. Not the best, but nothing to be frowned upon either."

Agatha looked at her agape.

"What?" Christie gasped in horror. "Do I have gravy on my face?"

"No, no. Not at all!" Her roommate waved her arms around in negation. "I was just amazed with your… diction?" She nodded at herself proudly before continuing. "I fear I do not have myself the best vocabulary, so to fit here… I struggle to come up with suitable words."

"Well, it is not like there is a need to be a wordsmith either. This is just my idiosyncrasies, not something that is either mundane or that should be replicated."

"Yeah, I understand that, but…" she blushed.

"But what?" Christie tilted her head downwards in inquiry.

"I find it… alluring," Agatha responded in a near whisper.

"Well, yes. Such is the allure of the romantic language, to weave words and to lose oneself in them," the redhead explained as a matter of fact.

"Right…" Yet for some reason, the blond girl was dissatisfied with her explanation.

Christie couldn't tell why.

***

After seeing the mess that was the mess hall, one would not have thought that the classroom would only be composed of three dozen students. But that was the truth of the Skyscraper Academy, a whole year of students didn't pass the three-digit mark. It didn't even get close. Whilst a military institution, here wasn't where soldiers were trained, but generals, admirals, engineers, and scariest amongst all, lapiloquists. Maybe not all were commanders, but all were elites.

Christie turned her head to the side to see a fidgety Agatha. Her roommate was way more self-confident than her, but at the same time, it clearly showed that she came from a barely known hamlet. Shayla could be considered a commoner too, yet she had the dignity of someone who knew what being at the Skyscraper Academy meant.

She and her roommate had ended up sitting in the middle of the classroom as most other seats were already taken. Nervous or lazy people sat in the latter rows, whilst those keen to learn or be noticed had selected the front rows. Those had been the ones who had woken up at the earliest and reached the mess hall first, and that was why Christie wasn't there. Shayla was, though.

The nouveau riche didn't blame her roommate for it as she doubted being in the first row would have been good for her heart. She was satisfied with the middle rows that touched the windows.

And talking about windows, if the high ceilings and long structure of the classroom didn't reveal that the place had formerly been some sort of dance hall, then those vertical and pointy windows that went from the ceiling certainly were enough of a clue.

Christie wasn't dissatisfied with the repurposed room – the whole academy was repurposed, after all – but the dissonance did irk her a bit. Sure, it felt like a classroom with the slate in the front and all the desks and benches, but she had expected something more… school-like? Yes, all her ponderation about schools came from novels – mostly romance ones thanks to Miss Diorite now – but the exaggerated proportion of the classroom broke her pink-shaded illusion.

Alas, the whispers and not-so-whispers that filled the room in juvenile cacophony instantly ceased the moment the doors to the classroom opened.

From the door, heavy and cadent steps were heard. Clearly the march of a soldier. Clearly the sounds of someone powerful. Instead of an old soldier, the students were greeted by a young face, but that didn't comfort them in the slightest. There was something wrong with that march. Something had happened to someone who was that relatively young to have that much gravitas with each step.

Instead of the navy blue uniform that all the soldiers around the academy ground wore, his was black as onyx. The same could be said about his hair and beard. One was long for a man and a soldier, yet short for a woman; whilst the other was neatly trimmed and self-contained to his chin. There was something as alluring as unsettling about the man.

And that feeling was but further amplified by that glow in his eyes. They weren't agates under the Light command, but instead the clouded layer that separated others in an agate. A soft and murky grey.

He left a folder on the teacher's desk before he turned to face them and addressed the class.

"The name is René Dago, and I will be your Agatecraft and physical education teacher for this year. Furthermore, I will be your homeroom teacher for the rest of your stay at the Skyscraper Academy."

His eyes and mouth smiled, yet it felt completely fake. Christie didn't consider herself good at reading people's emotions and expressions, but the problem is that the man before her felt more fictional than her novels.

And then he looked directly at her.

With a veritable smile.