Prologue - New Year's Festival

It was the last day of the 5184th year, and Tern City was preparing for the celebration of the new year festival. Averaged across the known world, this season was considered the middle of global summer. But here in Tern, it was a chilly time of alternating rain and snow.

Not that the unpleasant weather particularly stopped the bustling city. River barges arrived, sky-craft departed, wind- and watermills spun, goods changed hands - work never truly stopped, and not everyone had the opportunity for the leisure associated with this auspicious date. The only thing in doubt because of the snow was whether the many venues would forego the outdoor festivities of the day. But that would soon be seen - traditionally, the festival begins at noon and culminates at midnight, after which the celebrants would begin going home. And the next morning, routine work would resume as usual.

---

But for some, it was study and not work. Several learning institutions, including Tern City Polyscholastic Seminary, had the controversial habit of starting the first semester on the very first day of a new year. Fortunately for the celebrants, that would happen at noon and not in the early morning, giving them a chance to catch up on lost sleep. Given that most departments would often be involved in organising festive events for both established students and matriculating ones, with an expectation of attendance at the evening event, it was not a particularly surprising contingency to avoid having too many students late to the opening ceremony.

---

Of all those matriculating students, those who were from other lands usually arrived between a week and a month before the semester began, to handle all such organisational matters as paperwork and finding a long-term place to stay. Some went as far as to come here two months ahead of time, but it seems unlikely that anyone arrived earlier than that.

How exactly the students spent the preparatory time varied.

---

Ah, the sleet and wind and stormy skies. Shadow was one of those few foreigners who found themselves not dismayed by the weather, but conversely, cheered by it. He hated summer the most. In Smithland, the temperature was moderately warm at worst, but in Tern, it gripped him with force and humidity, draining the starch out of his uniform and clamping him in a damp hot vise of misery.

Discipline persisted in the summer, for the point of discipline is to endure orders no matter the circumstances, but still..Summer was not ideal. Gazing at his reflection critically in the mirror, he ran a brush over fiery curls, marshalling them into a smooth, curved plane that swept out from his head and down to brush against his eyebrows. He had arrived a week earlier, shepherded to the townhouse of a Smithland clockwork merchant...Or so it belonged to, on the deed.

Shadow himself personally had no idea how real this merchant was, but the servants were real, as was this lodging, as was his father's letter with instructions which had opened these doors without question. He had been up since dawn, of course, executing a few swordplay drills, before then taking a brief bath to wash off the morning's exertion, and study up on his future battleground.

The Seminary was a nexus of fates and destinies, a convergence of the great and the terrible, but inevitably, most of which whom were powerful, or had the promise of power about them. He had spent the rest of his day acquainting himself with his uniform, and transferring the sole, prized medal he had onto it, where it glittered underneath his collar, half-hidden by his hair.

He secretly looked forward to the frivolities, and had made sure to exchange a portion of his discretionary funds for local currency. There was time enough for war and plots and schemes to further his fatherland at all costs. For now....He would be a person, not a blade, nor the shadow under the blade.

The first thing Celune learned about Tern City was that it never truly slept.

Even in the cold of winter, with snow melting into rain and rain freezing back into slush, the city moved. Barges crossed the waterways beneath grey skies, merchants haggled beneath covered awnings, and scholars hurried between libraries with armfuls of books tucked beneath their coats.

She had arrived nearly three weeks ago. Long enough to secure a modest room above a bookseller's shop near one of the city's academic districts. The room was small. There is only a bed, a desk, a wardrobe, and a narrow window overlooking a canal but it was affordable, quiet, and within walking distance of the Seminary.

More importantly, it was close to records. Most of those three weeks had disappeared within archives, public registries, and dusty collections that smelled of old paper and lamp oil. She had come to Tern City as a student, certainly, but that was not the only reason she had crossed half the world to reach it. No single clue had revealed itself yet. But she's patient, she could wait.

Nevertheless, on the last morning of the year, she sat beside the window of her rented room, notebook balanced on her knee as snow drifted lazily beyond the glass. Below, the streets were beginning to fill with celebrants preparing for the festival. Her pen paused. The festivities.

Truthfully, she had given them little thought. Crowds were loud, unpredictable, and generally poor environments for observation. Yet attendance was expected, and she supposed it would be useful to meet the other incoming students. Connections often opened doors that books could not.

Closing her notebook, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and glanced toward the Seminary visible beyond the rooftops. A new year. A new semester. And perhaps, if fortune proved kind, the beginning of answers long overdue.

A mousy tangle of hair perches itself over the well worn pages of a journal.
"We arrived at dusk to a city positively glowing, The lights always look cheerier in the cold for some reason. I have spent the intervening few weeks wandering the city alleys in search of Tern Lilies, despite them being out of their blooming season. It took quite a bit of fruitless searching and interesting encounters with the locals but a stalk now graces my desk beside me, I am excited to see the petals after so many frustratingly colorless illustrations. I have come to realize that within the city my best bet at seeing rare annuals is going to require befriending some of the more affluent locals. I peered into more than a few impressive looking gardens and courtyards at the cost of a bevy of scrapes and bruises from climbing were I don't belong. There is quite the hubub out my cousins window and news has of course reached me about the new years celebrations. I expect I will attend just for the fun of it all, one last gasp of freedom before I am pulled into this seminary and forced to behave like a proper heir of Ilisvalne. Perhaps I can meet some of the well to do garden owners, or even better their gardeners. Sleep calls now dear diary, I shall write to you again soon!"

Two months in Tern City felt like barely just enough time for Art to begin getting his bearings in the bustling urban environment. If the city wasn't overwhelming enough, this adjustment period also came with a substantial increase in his own independence. It was two months of practicing engaging with others, studying things that other students had already committed to memory long before him, and ensuring he could get around without getting lost. Of course, it was also two months of getting used to the weather. Cold and wet was the opposite of what he had grown accustomed to back on River-Scar.

The young karposark sat alone in a dimly-lit café, but it was not as quiet as it had been the past two weeks he had been coming in. Decorations of the standard fashion for the new year festivities lavishly graced every corner of the shop. The maximalist approach reminded him of what he had done with the room provided to him in Chiming Heart-Bell's vacation property. While the stylizing of that space was welcome, the café had been a less busy space to relax in the mornings. The beverage in front of him was no longer steaming and only half empty. A textbook sat open to the left of the beverage, ignored. The space wasn't conducive to focus. Instead, the drawing journal in hands was in the process of bearing the image of a couple of monomorphs laughing together at another table.

The two were discussing their plans for later. Art only had one, which was to go be seen among others where he was instructed to be seen before retiring for the evening. Secondarily, it would be best if he could make conversation without receiving queer looks for once. Appropriate attire had also been secured for just such an occasion, or so he had been told. A tertiary objective was to enjoy a couple of new experiences without becoming overstimulated. It wasn't as though he wasn't grateful to have these new opportunities. It also wasn't as though he didn't appreciate learning about the odd, yet beautiful traditions of others. There was something about societal expectations that would seem to always frustrate him, even if just slightly. That quirk, while frustrating to possess, was another thing to be grateful for. His unique perspective would be beneficial when he entered the political world one day. It wouldn't be long now.

Despite all the hopes, in the afternoon the weather turned for the worse, and most of the outdoor celebrations were cancelled. No dancing with torches and candles, no outdoor games, no open-sky stage plays. Only the market stall keepers grudgingly remained at their spots, covering up their goods to protect them from the wind-swept rain and snow. Many of the dirt-road alleys became swamped by a mixture of mud and melting snow.

It seemed there wouldn't be much for the guests to do in the streets today, and it made more sense to spend the afternoon holed up in homes and cafés, preparing for the evening.

---

But as dusk time approached, the skies became clearer. As precipitation finally diminished, servants rushed to clean up the sidewalks at the ceremonial building where the students of General Esoterica would gather. Once the immediate vicinity was clean, they even rolled out a red carpet from the entrance threshold reaching all the way onto the sidewalk.

The ceremonial building, especially its entrance, looked rather fancy. It had tall and intricately decorated doors, tall windows leading into the main ballroom, a raised threshold, and there were treebeds with palms growing in them.

---

The event was scheduled to officially begin at the strike of dusk - the 18th hour - and so approximately a half to a quarter hour before that, the participants began arriving - some by carriage, some on foot. When Art, Celune, Danikle, and Shadow, having arrived by their respective methods, were approaching the entrance, they witnessed five other young adults - surely all also prospective students - in a tense stand-off by the entrance.



On the one side of the standoff, there were two commoners - one long-haired and clad in a cheap Chorizemic robe and staring back at the nobles, the other with shorter hair and clad in a modest Hvirati toga, standing behind the former and trying to avoid causing further offence or other escalation.On the other side there were three nobles, angry and accusatory.

One was a long-haired redhead clad in thin ceremonial armour common in Smithland.

One was a bald Chorizemic aristocrat, clad in traditional robes of the Empire.

One was a Hvirati noble with long hair and a scar on a brow. "Take your filth somewhere else. Remedy it, in due haste, for you don't want to be held responsible for it," she demands in a level yet tense, steely voice, in Firefriend.

"My lady Seragiu, it seems fate has led us to another crossroads. I hope for the health of your father, and trust you have been well. We are all foreigners in this land of wonders, and as such, have no right to demand of our fellow students that which they do not desire." Shadow said with a wry smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, as he stepped forward, boots clicking against wet stone.

The unmarked carriage which had borne him to the academy entrance rolled away as the coachman, a deliberately inconspicuous individual, snapped the reins silently to leave. He wore the new form of Smithland military uniform, a dark grey tunic reinforced in strategic places with leather and lamellar armor, along with silver bracers to guard one's wrists.

Despite the naturally antagonistic relationship their two families held, he seemed...Almost pleading in tone. His eyes were sad as he looked at her, and perhaps a hint guilty. Whatever had the reasons been, it was true that they had been driven out of their ancestral homelands, and his family had borne the sword that had done so.

"Allow mercy to temper your actions. For is it not the noble's duty to shepherd their lessers?"

Soon after, Celune also arrived on foot, sheltered beneath a dark umbrella. Instead of her usual vest and long skirt, she is now wearing a formal dress suited to the festival she's about to attend.

The sight of the ornate building had almost drawn her attention away from everything else. Almost before her gaze settled on the confrontation unfolding before the entrance. A poor first impression for an academic institution, she think. She slowed her approach, studying the participants and listening carefully for context before making any assumptions.

For the moment, she remained silent, lingering at the edge of the gathering with the her usual patience self.

Danikle stepped off what was an altogether too ostentatious carriage for his taste, his family crest emblazoned prominently on the door and standard of the ornate black and gold monstrocity. He was loathe to admit it but some excitement lurked under the trepidation that clouded his gaze at the carpet adorned building that would house his near future and the heavy expectations of his family.

It was with a curious gaze that he looked towards the spectacle of arguing students, content to be an onlooker for someone elses performance. Until at least he noticed Sahrethe among the disdained party of the squabble. A low angry glint entered his eyes while he calculated whether to help difuse the situation like this other student seemed to be attempting or whether to answer insult with insult in Sahrethe's place.

As it often did for Danikle caution and a desire not to make a scene won out and he approached with an innocent smile like he had not noticed the conflict.
"Sahrethe you glimmer with the radiance of the morning dew as always."
He turned towards the three nobles with an apologetic look on his face
"I hope you don't mind if I interupt your conversation, this is an old friend of mine and I'd like to steal her away to catch up before the ceremony."
Not giving them time to answer he made to pull Sahrethe and the other student in the chorizemic robe up into the building already starting to chat
"How were your travels and who is your new friend?"

Not far behind Celune was Art, also arriving on foot. Although the sights and sounds of the city could still be overwhelming, the movement of his body helped to regulate his thinking more than a carriage ride might. The path he took to get to the ceremonial building was mapped out well in advance to ease his nerves anyhow. Seeing some of the other more finely dressed students for the occasion, the would-be noble looked down at himself to ensure he was wearing the correct robes. A deep exhale blew from his nose as he looked forward with his stoney expression, assured he was prepared to speak with others.

What confidence Art had melted away into tension as he saw the conflict on the carpet. The aggressive posture of the nobility and the tenseness in the voice of the armored one already had him on edge. Wrangling prey through claw and fang sounded preferable to the way that people fought. Words and influence were wielded as weapons to get what they wanted. Even if a fight seemed won, one might discover later that the apparent loser knew enough people to hurt the person who beat them. A prey that escaped wasn't vindictive, but a person could be. If it were not for politics deciding so much for so many people, the former feral would have chosen to remain a recluse. Regardless, he approaches the gathering.

Stopping just before the carpet, Art removed his shoes and set them to the side. His bare feet walked the rest of the way. "One cannot stop rain nor mud, but shoes can be collected later. This opportunity cannot. All should walk together." Art gestures back at his shoes as if to suggest the others leave theirs as well. Making note of Shadow's pleas for mercy, he keeps a watchful eye on the would-be guardian of the carpet. He does not, however, acknowledge Blooming Storm. Avoiding them the past two months had been a goal he had been successful at until now. Their rivalry was not something he wanted to stoke the flames of, but merely prove quietly that he deserved his place.

As she is pulled towards the entrance by Danikle, Sahrethe grabs the other commoner's hand to pull him along, responds, "Ah, this fetching fellow is Nightgleam's Reflection, another student, whose path into the seminary seems to have been charted by Higher Powers."

The ceremonially armoured nobleglares at Shadow for a split second, but upon hearing a constructive proposal, speaks calmly to him, "Words are empty and vague when not backed by personal deeds and actionable advice. I concede that in this moment, it is the peer from the Chorizemic Empire," she motions with her hand towards Art of Stone, "who has said what I unfortunately not quick enough to, and led by example too."

She turns to Danikle and gently touches his arm, as a gesture de-escalation. "It is my failure that upon seeing you approach I have been outraced by the quick wit of the new guest. But perhaps that's an opportunity for the three of us to have fewer disagreements in the future," she glances at Art of Stone with a hint of a warming-up smile. "Shoes bearing signs of today's weather can indeed be left at the door."

With a compromise solution being offered, the two commoners release hands and start taking off their sandals, while the nobles stop blocking the way - the Smithlander happily, the Hvirati neutrally, and the Chorizemic reluctantly.

Celune quietly observed as the confrontation unraveled.

The military man appealed to duty. The noble sought to defuse the quarrel through familiarity. And the quiet stranger offered the simplest solution of all. Three different approaches to the same conflict, each contributing in its own way.

A faint smile crossed her lips as she closed her umbrella and stepped forward.

"It seems the matter has resolved itself," she said softly. "A fortunate beginning for what is meant to be our first day as fellow scholars, don't you think?"

Without another word, she removed her shoes and placed them neatly beside the others before crossing the threshold. As she passed, her gaze lingered briefly on Shadow, Danikle, and finally Art, committing each face to memory.

One never knew which acquaintances would become allies or the key to answers yet undiscovered.

Seeing that Ngofu seemingly wished to make peace Danikle smiles at them. "It is so good to see you well friend, I look forward to catching up soon!"
Hearing Celune he woukd pass them a smile and a nod at their comment.

Art visibly relaxes. Observing the smile of the Smithland noble, he mirrors it back to her. "That is good. Amicable resolutions are best." An unconscious gaze is cast towards Blooming Storm, but slowly makes its way around to Nightgleam's Reflection at the mention of his name. The former feral offers a wave in passing to acknowledge him before continuing on.

"Rain's absence would be a stronger sign." He responds to Celune.

Watching Ngofu depart, one might expect Shadow to seem happy that she had so easily acquiesced to his plea of logic. However, his lips merely tightened further, and his eyes seemed to deepen in regret. She would have been an admirable part of Smithland's new future, and they did need competent leaders....If only for the fact that her family was at odds with his own, and thus, she would never be allowed any power on Smithland soil.

Shaking away the dreary realities, Shadow took his bearings, noticing the others and flashing a bright smile at them. "What, have my fellows not enjoyed the lovely weather going on in this city as of late?" Shadow asked wryly, dispatching his own military-style boots, which, oddly enough, seemed to have little in the way of mud on them.

Ngofu Seragriu, despite having untarnished boots (having arrived by carriege), sets them aside by the entrance, and responds to Danikle, smiling. "Glad to see you too. We can catch up, but beware that now you will be competing for the attention against the mysterious young sage," she nods in Art's direction, with perhaps a touch of humour in the comment. "If I may impose myself thus, of course."

And with that, she walks the carpet through the entrance, glancing at Art and Danikle in the hopes they wouldn't stay far behind.

Meanwhile in the background, the Chorizemic noblerolls her eyes at Ngofu's comments and walks through the door silently, leaving her (also untarnished) shoes on.

Sahrethe and Nightgleam go inside along with everyone else.

---

There is a short corridor with a counter over which the mostly-empty cloakroom can be seen, along with a lone, boring-looked servant ready to accept the attire of those who do not have their own staff for handling such matters. And at the end of the corridor there is another double door leading into the main ceremony-and-ball room.

Once you pass that door, you see a large rectangular room with a tall ceiling, tall windows on the sides, several medium-sided skylights on the ceiling, and several doors on both the front and rear walls. Between the skylights, there are large sets of arc lamps mounted on the ceiling, currently inactive while daylight still lasts. In two of the corners on the entrance side, and in the middle of the opposite-side wall, there are raised stages. Two of those are currently occupied by medium-sized musical ensembles quietly preparing for an evening of work; the third one is currently empty. The remaining two corners contain some benches and chairs by the wall, and buffet tables full of snacks and beverages from all over the Necklace further out. It should be noted that the number of seats seem to be less than the number of the people.

As for the people, there seem to be less than a hundred, but more than half that, assembled throughout the room, and loosely grouped by year - there are servants holding up signs with numbers, except one holding up a sign saying 'applicants' instead (spelled out in the three major languages). And the applicant crowd, which consists of perhaps two dozen people or so, is in turn split into groups of 2-4, each chatting about something or just idling together.

The scarred Hvirati noble goes towards one such group, and is greetedby two other individuals - a scar-bearing and white-haired (despite young age) Ouvb noble and an untarnished-faced redhead Smithlander, both wearing tunica styles typical for their respective lands, but with the Smithlander also bearing a layer of purely ceremonial light armour.

The bald Chorizemic noble joins the general group, but doesn't seem to gravitate to anyone specific, instead standing on her own.

Closer to the middle of the applicants' group, there's two scantily-clad kohl-sporting dignitaries, most definitely from the Ruby Moth Realm. It seems that they both wanted to stick to the national dress-code for the ceremony. Surely they had their way of not being exposed to the harsh weather in those short sarongs and thin torso-wraps, but while the temperature in the room is warmer than outside, it's still cool enough to warrant wearing a long-sleeved shirt and something to cover one's knees if you're not used to the local climate. Thus, it's rather obvious that now the duo is not feeling comfortable, and is eager for some sort of activities to begin.

To the side, there's a moderately poikilomorphic-looking (likely lake-adapted), stern dynast clad in a foreign shirt and trousers, likely from the Fringe, accompanied by well-off and slightly annoyed-looking Wind-Charmer in a typical 'indoor' attire of the tribe, and a slick-but-not-as-opulent Shik resident in a tunica and trousers.

Then there's a slightly rough-looking duo, a slightly poikilomorphic Ingastese and a Shik. These could be middle-class merchants or warriors, it's a bit hard to tell. They're clad in trousers and shirts . . . or maybe the Shik's case that's a tunica tucked into the trousers.

The next group is likely-Siirla poikilomorphs wearing surprisingly dull-coloured clothes (one a tunica and an overcoat with trousers, other a robe) and an Ouvb resident in a short coat and sarong. They seem to be having a lively and cheerful discussion.

Finally, there's a group that seems not very cohesive. A heavy-set and slightly poikilomorphic Ingastese, a reserved Wind-Charmer, and a poikilomorph likely from the Fringe. They all wear jackets and trousers (with the Ingastese adding an loose over-cape that looks almost like a toga), albeit each of a different style, giving a hint to their varied origins.

Shadow had been aware of the Laureate of Seragiu, of course....But the fact that a noble from a previously rival nation had seen fit to warn him was...Interesting. He decided to take it as meaning that his cover was more effective than he'd realized, and that his house was merely seen as a new nobility based upon military merit....Like it was, technically. That was an interesting combination that the warner had joined. One from Ouvb, and one from his native Smithland.

Putting on his best bluff, self-effacing soldier mask, Shadow walked towards that trio with a keen smile and an inclined head, half a bow of the military fashion. "It always does one good to see fellow countrymen in a strange land," He said, nodding in a friendly manner over to the Ouvb native as well. After all, the two nations were so close they were almost like one, anyways.

"Always?" doubted the Hvirati, and glanced with curiosity in Ngofu's direction, who at this point was still near Danikle and Art. Surely that was an allusion to the slight witnessed just a minute or two ago.

"With understandable exceptions, surely," commented the Smithlander softly. "Everyone has reasons. Though given that we are all in a strange land, and will have challenging years ahead, and may be facing new rivalries, it might be unwise to burn bridges so early with those one has a unifying history with."

The half-masked one merely watched and listened, smiling mysteriously at the redhead's comment.

"Perhaps. Though I'd rather place my hopes in people than the weather. Storms are far less predictable."

Celune inclined her head slightly toward Art and gives him a faint smile before turning to Shadow, the smile lingered just a little.

"The weather has certainly been... memorable. And yet I suspect I'll remember today's introductions longer than the snow."

She then offers Danikle a polite nod in return before following the others inside, her gaze quietly passing over the gathered students, then to the nobles who still chose to keep their shoes on despite the compromise. Already, each had revealed something about themselves, and Celune wonders to herself what the evening's conversations would uncover.

Having entered the ballroom, the Hvirati commoner turns her attention away from Nightgleam and towards Celune. "Alas, today it is the people that I failed to predict. The two of us went like this fully realising that the weather is harsh, but we thought we can just rush through the rain and get indoors, and get to wear our styles proudly, including sandals. But instead, we ran into the group by the door and you saw what happened next, though the intervention defused the tension, for which I'm thankful to you," she turns and bows to Art (at which point Nightgleam copies her gesture), before returning her attention back to Celune.

"Speaking of introductions, I am Sahrethe, or just Sahe. I'm going to study providing musical accompaniment and other assistance at shrines and myth stage plays. I'd be delighted to become acquainted," the last bit seems to address both Celune and Art.

Turning to Celune with a smile he motions to Sahrethe.
"Celune this is actually a childhood friend of mine, I'm certain you two will get along swimingly. And Sahrethe Celune is a friend of mine as well, when they aren't berating me about my plans for a research advisor." The last part said with a friendly laugh. He then turns towards Art.
"A pleasure to meet you as well, You can call me Danikle if you will forgive my distaste for formal introductions."

Art puts on his best smile in response to the gratitude of Sahrethe and Nightgleam. Danikle's laugh is enough to prevent the former feral from reading too much into his words. "Art of Stone, or simply Art. A pleasure. I will study politics and artistry. Overcoming the challenge of formality is part of my study. I am... behind." There is another awkward pause that lasts just long enough for others to consider responding before he speaks again. "I look forward to hearing your music. I struggle with plays." He says plainly to Sahe before glancing around further at the crowd of individuals.
Sweaty palms began rubbing together, trying to calm the mind that could not help but be slightly overwhelmed. Seeing Blooming Storm alone was conflicting. A smaller gathering seemed preferable, but not his first pick for mingling. The two scantily-clad individuals seemed interesting without being crowded. A part of him briefly became self-aware that he was already picking out who he would speak to like he was picking out prey, turning his attention back to the three in front of him.

Hearing Sahrethe's words, Celune's expression softened as she nods at her.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Sahe. And with Danikle's introduction, my name is Celune Tomeu. Delighted to be your acquaintance as well. I hope your first day proves more memorable for your music than for the weather."

And then at Danikle's remark, she let out a quiet chuckle.

"I merely suggested that choosing an advisor should involve more than chasing the most interesting research topic, you know?"

Her attention then shifted to Art.

"There's no shame in being behind. Everyone arrives here by a different path." She smiled gently. "Politics and artistry is an unusual combination. I imagine you'll have a perspective few others do. I'd be interested to hear more about it, when things are a little less... crowded."

Her gaze wandered around the ballroom, taking in the assortment of peoples and fashions with quiet fascination. The Ruby Moth visitors especially caught her eye. Their determination to maintain their customs despite the chill spoke volumes about their homeland. She also made a mental note of the unfamiliar Fringe students, resolving to learn more about their cultures another day.

For now, however, she remained with the small group already forming around her.

"Since we'll likely be spending the next few years studying together," she said, "I'm curious. What drew each of you to the Seminary? Was it a lifelong ambition, or did circumstance bring you here?"

"I was drawn in by what is perhaps as far from lifelong ambition as can be."
He gives a wry self mocking smirk
"I became the butt of a joke for powers wholly out of my control and the attention that came with it caused my family to force me out of my comfortable life and into this place with you all. So I do hope you all will take it easy on me in the days to come."

The Chorizemic commoner glances at Danikle before returning his gaze to Celune and answering her question. "In a way I too have become a plaything of powers way beyond my control, which can be a gift and a challenge. I decided that I should not forego such an opportunity resulting from it, even if it may come with its own perils. And I think an institution like this would allow me to learn a lot about the wonders of high powers and the world overall."

Sahe nods to Nightgleam's words. "The grantors of my opportunity are also beyond my reach, though not as drastically as Nightgleam's. That is, the Inisvalne dynasty gave me such a gift for loyally serving the family. Some of the expectations of what I'm to learn here are above my head, but I think I'll figure it out. After all, I did figure out the arc organ, and as esteemed Art of Stone noted, that can be a hurdle that is not trivial to overcome."

Ngofu waits for others to finish their responses before joining in. "If introductions are in order, I am Ngofu, or, if you prefer a semantic name, Hornet's Gaze, of the Seragrii dynasty. My ambition is to study plants mundane and esoteric, either as a member of the Polyscholastic Symposium, or out in the field as a Bourns-Rover. The General Esoterica course is a bit of a detour, but it's a more reliable path into the Concordat for me, and I wouldn't say no to extra knowledge even if it falls to the side of my main ambition."

His eyes flick up in interest at Ngofu's words.
"You and I share similar interest, I just managed to track down a Tern Lily and am trying to cultivate it if you had any interest in local flora!"

"It is the Autarch's position that merit precedes birthright, although merit itself may also engender birthright. The Lady of Seragiu is under the Imperial eye, and only time will tell if her family may be redeemed. As a loyal subject of the Autarch, one may only show favor to those he does, and conversely, distance when he chooses."

Shadow said easily, even though his own eyes were obscure as he spoke. He never enjoyed it, especially since he personally liked Ngofu, but loyalty was not always a pleasant duty.

A heartbeat past, before his smile lengthened and he relaxed his posture incrementally. "Thankfully, however, I am merely here under my father's tutelage as a simple foreign student, not as a soldier in the Autarch's army, so I too personally hope that the lady of Seragiu may redeem her family...Although I'm sure she wouldn't believe it if I told her."

The Smithlander smiles to Danikle. "That's splendid. Well, maybe a lily falls short of true herbalistic ambitions, but it's a good start upon just arriving. Do you already have a gardenbed prepared?"

Celune nods along as the rest of the group introduces themselves and give answers to her questions. After giving a soft pat on Danikle's shoulder as comfort, she smiles and responds back.

"You all have such wonderful ambitions. I, myself, only looking to gain more knowledge as knowledge itself is an avid interest of mine. So I hope the seminary will satisfy my unending curiosity."

She then glances between Ngofu and Shadow, and sensing the subtle tension between them, takes a mental note of it before commenting on it.

"Ah, I take it that both of you are previously acquainted, Miss Ngofu and Sir Shadow?".

Well, proper courtesy dictated that an answer was required when a good friend asked an innocent question of oneself. No matter how difficult it might be to answer. His smile slightly more strained, he turned to regard Celune with a measure of rueful dismay, before inclining his head towards Ngofu.

"She and I....Are indeed sharing a relationship which will most likely persist as long as our respective dynasties do. We are well-acquainted indeed." He said, after a second's thought.

Giving the approaching Shadow a side glance, Ngofu responds to Celune. "So you sound like you might be completely at home at the Polyscholastic Symposium after graduation, which would surely have a place for someone of the type of ambition you have. As for the question of acquaintance, in a way yes, we do share familial histories of a sort.

Though I'd like to bring something else up in regards to your question: I of course cannot speak on the behalf of my compatriot, but as for myself, I think if we are already at the stage of using personal names and moving past official titles, then I dare say that unofficial styles of address, particularly ones presumably borrowed from the Fringe, can also be safely dropped. If even the Autarch accepted being addressed with no style during replies after the first, then surely a lowly Laureate will be fine being called merely Ngofu or Hornet."

A few seconds passed as Shadow eyed Ngofu with inscrutable features, lips pursed in a faint frown, before inclining his head in her direction. "Given that we are in a foreign country as fellow students, I can see no harm in dropping such formalities in informal setting such as this...Ngofu. You may call me Relivke."

Ngofu seems surprised for a fraction of a second at Shadow's response, but then smiles and nods. There's a poorly concealed hint of smugness in that smile.

Art observes the conversations of others with interest for a time, waiting for an opening to answer Celune's question without talking over another. In a way, there is an advantage to engaging in a crowd that he hadn't considered. There is simply less need of him to speak when others are there to fill the silence that they dislike. Meanwhile, he gets to take the time to consider what he might say.
Ngofu's smile seems to be the brief moment of silence that is timely for him to respond. After making a mental note about this strange tension and talk of methods of address between Ngofu and Shadow, he speaks. "I am here by circumstance. Ambition was foreign to me for most of my life." After a brief pause, he continues. "Perhaps like Danikle, I am the butt of a joke. I grew up feral for approximately a decade after being born. This fact has been an obstacle for me in many ways." Another pause accompanied by subtle stare. "Lineage is the reason I am here. Unavoidable facts that I won't waste time hiding. I am debatably Laureate of Crownforger. They are nobles of the Chorizemic Empire."
Art swallows, watching the others and waiting to see their response. His rationale revealing his identity early was sound, but it didn't stop his guard heightening reflexively.

Celune subtly raises an eyebrow at the conversation between Shadow and Ngofu before smiling to herself. But seeing the dismay smiles from Shadow, she drops this topic and continues another.

As a response from Ngofu's comment on her ambition, she nods.

"I am also looking to be Concordat Investigator like yourself. And with the same motive as Nightgleam's said, I am too quite interested in the wonder of higher and noble powers of our world.".

Having been briefly lost pulling out his sketchbook to show off the garden he had spent the last few days planning it is with some startlement that Danikle returns to the rather heavy introduction of Art's background.
He pauses a moment before settling on an appropriate response, his face taking on a warm smile.
"What an interesting twist of fate, a most uncommon background. Perhaps we will soon also get to laugh at the apparent humour of our situations!"
He then turns and passes his notebook to Ngofu.
"No garden bed yet but this is what I have planned for when the ground thaws suitably well for digging. Just a few errant pots on my windowsil at the moment."

Ngofu nods to Celune to make it clear she's not ignoring her, even though she doesn't seem to have anything specific to say in response. And when she actually spoke, it was about things Danikle and Art have said:

"The facts by themselves seem not all that rare: there are many ferals on various islands, and there are many aristocrats from grave-gardens, and even nobles adopting someone who had not grown up in their dynasty are reasonably common," she glances in the direction of Nightgleam and Sahrethe, perhaps implying a similar future. "But it is the overlap of these three things is remarkable, or at least the first two; I can see how the third might be a more likely outcome if the first two are already true."

Sahrethe, meanwhile, was whispering something quietly to Nightgleam, who presented his ear to her and nodded along.

Celune also taking a look at the sketch of Danikle's garden while hearing them talks about plants. She has never explores this particular topic before since she has so many things to research for but it seems that this topic is not as secondary as it seems.

But her attention is pulled back by Ngofu's commentary about the variety of their background. Her eyes unconsciously glancing at Shadow since he's the only one here knows about her past but she focuses her eyes again towards Ngofu and Arts, reminding her of what Arts has admitted seconds ago.

"Yes, I agree with Ngofu. Have no worries, Arts. Having no ambition is not a joke. These things are more common than you think."

Not to mention, the reason she is here is not entirely because of thirst of knowledge. Her disgraced lineage plays a big part too.

A flicker of realization passes through Shadow's eyes as he recognizes what Ngofu's smirk entails, causing him to roll his eyes discreetly, letting out an amused huff and crossing his arms. "And, fellow student Ngofu, I might suggest putting more emphasis towards your studies and ambitions here. It would be a shame if you got so caught-up by social decorum to neglect your education."

His eyes caught on Celune, and his expression changed towards one more contemplative. "There is no such thing as no ambition. Ambition does not always mean a lofty throne or a regiment at your beck and call. Ambition is a softer bed, better food, warmer walls and a roof which does not leak. As long as one thinks, one pursues comforts and higher luxuries, which is a form of ambition."

Danikle's response elicits a blank stare from Art. The idea of joining in on the laughter leaves him more confused, but he thinks it best to simply not respond rather than launch an inquisition into the meaning of the humiliated noble's words. Ngofu's analysis of the situation receives an affirmative nod, completely missing the subtle glance at Sahe and Nightgleam. However, the audible whispers of Sahe suddenly draws his stare before he can curtail the notion that the Crownforger family might want to adopt him. "Any special gifts I possess have escaped my awareness." The response seems to pay no attention the fact that the comment was not intended to be audible.
"Ambition is something I now possess." Art speaks, looking between Sahe, Celune, and Shadow. "It is a complex thing. It is made with thoughts and ideas. As a feral, there is only needs and simple desires. I would not say they are the same."

Seeing Sahrethe whispering to another jelousy burned through Danikle. For just a moment his "gift" rose within him perhaps to make his ear the twin of Nightgleams so that he might know what secret they shared. Just as quickly the shame at considering such a violation of privacy arose. Unable to help himself for long however he began to watch Sahrethe.
At some oportune moment when the group is distracted with conversation Danikle would give Sahrethe a curious look glancing from her to Nightgleam and lean towards her to whisper.
"What was that? Did I miss something?"

Sahe twitches slightly either at Art's comment or at Danikle's question."Sorry, just idle chatter," she bows and keeps her gaze low, and nudges Nightgleam to do likewise.

Curiosity sparked into suspicion in Danikle's eyes as he took a longer look at Nightgleam. Something deep and insecure in him rose up at the idea of Sahrethe sharing secrets with another something that he could not easily shove back down. He attempted to laugh it off with a flippant comment.
"Never mind I suppose I should be used to being excluded at this point."
The laugh came off much more terse than he had hoped and the remark much more wounded and self absorbed than he had hoped.

Meanwhile, in the background, about two dozen people have ascended to the the middle raised stage (the one on the opposing side from the entrance).

About half of them were clad in brown and yellow tunicas and trousers, reminiscent of the Shik style yet not quite the same, and wearing ceremonial masks. Their physiques were fit, and their postures uniform, clearly being trained for this event, yet not in a military way.

The other half were clad in garbs from all over the Fringe, and also wore the masks traditional for the corresponding cultures. Their postures were more spontaneous and bodies more varied by comparison. Perhaps most or all of these were professors and other officials.

One of the former group brought a large bowl full of murky liquid onto the raised stage.

Celune only smiles at Shadow's words because she partly agrees with him. But only partly.

Then the entrance of the dozen people attracts her attention. Her eyes lingers on the ceremonial arrangement, recognition dawning almost immediately.

The Lightbringer.

A familiar ritual, rich with symbolism. She smiles faintly to herself but kept the thought unspoken. There would be time for explanations later, should anyone ask.

For now, she simply watches in quiet anticipation.

The arc lamps under the ceiling began to dim, as did the light coming in through the windows - the flow of tamed lightning has been throttled in sync with the turning of Dayglare into Nightgleam. The gossiping cliques reacted to the dimming of lights by ceasing their discussions and turning their attention to the stage, on which everyone was now lined up in a more uniform pattern.

The ensembles began playing - a melody starting out quiet and light, but building up to a solemn and mysterious hymn.

One of the uniformly-dressed people - the master of ceremonies - spoke, in Hatambetl. "It is time. The end of the year is nigh, and its last day has come to an End, all in line with the celestial Order. But all that ends, gives way for something new. And every such Darkness promises," it gestured towards the glass bowl with a murky liquid, "the arrival of a new light."

The murky liquid in the glass bowl began to emit a bit of light, until the master of ceremonies gestured again, and a smaller, matte glass ball surfaced within it. The master of ceremonies picked it up and passed it to one of the other stage performers. They in turn continued passing it along, their gestures as they did so increasingly dramatic and dance-like, as the music also ramped up. As this happened, the dancers continued to pass along the lit globe amongst themselves, going repeatedly in an ever-expanding spiral. While their arm movements were wave-like and fluid, their footwork was more sharp and rapid, typical for city performers in the Shik Republic, though again slightly distinct.One of the professors stepped forward on the stage.

"And so today we say farewell to the dying year, not with sorrow, but with contentment. We dance, we sing, we play, we feast. We ensure the last evening of the year remains a happy one, and once it ends, we rest in the dark, for tomorrow's year will require us to be well-rested and hard-working, full of new events, new trials, new things to discover and learn. Let the festival begin!"

The ensemble's melody shifted from a solemn and ceremonial to a more lighthearted and ginger one. The professors walked down from the stage, while the professional performers continued their show, now performing what looks like a local step dance. The arc lights under the ceiling became brighter again.

A group of students - among whom Shik and Ingast attire seem most common - gathered in the middle of the ballroom and formed a circle, moving in sync with the melody. Their dancing style was, predictably, simpler and less refined, but also much more relaxed and easy-going than that of the on-stage performers. Many students from other regions seemed less confident about joining in at this stage.

The performance drew an end to conversations and confrontations, allowing Art to relax in the silent, unified purpose of being a spectator. As the glass ball was passed from performer to performer, he was more focused on recalling the Five Principles and their relevance to this ceremony due to their reference in the speech. His gaze briefly shifted to those around him as the curiosities about their beliefs began to rise. These thoughts, too, were pushed from the forefront as his peers began to dance. Awkward uncertainty held him. In order to not be left behind, he decided to resort to mimicry. Art glanced about to see if he could catch what Blooming Storm was doing.

Blooming Storm was standing alone by a wall, one of the many people who seemed not confident enough, or at least not familiar enough, to participate in the Shik-style group dance.

As for the drawing an end to the conversations, despite no longer making excuses, Sahrethe still looked a bit anxious after the latest exchange. Nightgleam was likewise silent, though his demeanour was calmer by comparison.

For some reason, Shadow's expression seemed to almost harden imperceptibly at the sight of the ritual, although outwardly he left no signs of anything other than studious respect for the school's traditions, as any proper pupil should. It was faintly noticeable, however, that his shoulders lowered fractionally once the ritual was complete, as if he was winding down from a fighting stance.

As the dancing began, Shadow crossed his arms and leaned back against a pillar, examining the dance intently but making no moves to try replicating it himself. A second later, however, he did glance at the others, including Hornet.

"I'm sure the time you've spent away from the homeland has yielded competencies in many foreign customs. Is this one of them, Ngofu?" An innocent question and a veiled nudge at their exile, perhaps in retaliation for the non-formal name term they were now on.

As the final notes of the ritual faded, Celune watched the dancers with quiet appreciation. The ceremony had unfolded almost exactly as she had expected, yet witnessing it firsthand carried a weight no text could quite capture. Her attention drifted across the room, lingering on Art as he hesitated at the edge of the dancers, then to Shadow standing with folded arms.

"It seems we're all content to observe first," she said with a faint, understanding smile.

Her gaze returned to the dancers for another moment. "The steps don't look overly complicated... though I imagine they're easier learned by doing than by watching." She folded her hands behind her back, her tone remaining light. "If either of you decides to give it a try, I wouldn't mind learning alongside you. Otherwise, I'm just as happy to enjoy the performance from here for a little while longer."

Taciturn and quiet Danikle watches the dancing and at Celune's question he remained stony faced but stepped forward with a hand out for them to follow.
"Why not, we will certainly learn more than whispering here."

Art glances curiously between his peers, taking note of Danikle's displays of aggravation and Sahe's meekness. It seemed the audible whispers weren't intended to be heard after all. Rather than slip closer to the dancing crowd in the middle of the room, the awkward karposark slunk away from Danikle and Celune toward the whispering duo. Blooming Storm's absence from participating informed him that there was no need to try to make a show of his abilities here, which was good as he had none.
"Apologies if I possibly contributed to this mysterious conflict." He says without whisper.

Nightgleam bows to the Crownforger in a manner that could be seen as either apologetic or thankful, "Worry not, I am sure you meant no harm, and surely whatever your deeds would be, they would be of no harm to the petty babble of two small folk."

He then turns to Celune "And I do think you have a good suggestion." He offers his left hand to Sahrethe, and his right to Celune.

However, Sahrethe almost immediately pulls him towards the circle of dancing students, giving Celune but a moment or two to decide whether to grab onto his hand.

Meanwhile, Ngofu gives Shadow a measuring look. "No, though given what awaits us for years ahead, it would be improper not to begin acquiring those," and then hurriedly walks in the same direction, catching up to and overtaking Sahrethe. Ngofu hesitantly extends her hand to Sahrethe, causing the latter to hesitate about as much, but then withdraws it and continues walking ahead with no contact.Still, once everyone joins the circle of dancing students, the aversion to contact seems to subside, as the newjoiners begin doing their best to mimic the movements of the more proficient students, locking arms with their neighbours in the circle when the dance calls for it. The complexity of the movements exhibited by those in the central dance floor doesn't compare to that of the professionals on the upper stage. And none of the newly-joined trio seemed to know the movements, but one of them did seem to adapt better than others - Sahrethe - thanks to having a better feel for the melody and rhythm.

Art pauses, watching Nightgleam's Reflection abscond with the moment. The language of choice befuddled him. There was uncertainty whether it was merely a display of humility or something more. It did not take the bystander long to realize that he was one of the few still left behind. Not wanting to cause offense or draw the wrong kind of attention to himself, Art joined in mimicking the Shik-style dance.

Celune takes Nightgleam's offered hand and gives her other hand for Danikle to take if he wishes before start to focus her attention on dancing along.

Danikle takes her hand and joins the dance!

After watching the others dance, Shadow's smile extended slightly and he pitched in as well with a will.

As the dance proceeds, the movements change. Sometimes the circle of people spins around its centre. Other times it stops, and handholds broken, letting some dance in place and a few others - usually three or five at a time - take a couple of steps into the middle and briefly become the centre of attention. Everyone assertive enough to step forward is given such an opportunity at least a few times.

Ngofu and Nightgleam's performance in the spotlight seemed unremarkable. The two Ruby Moth citizens were lively and confident, even though unfamiliar with the style. Sahrethe, despite lack of familiarity, is fluid and expressive. The two Shik citizens, on the other hand, seem to compensate with experience for what they lack in artistism. The two Ingastese likewise.Eventually the melody comes to an end, and the master of ceremonies stands onto the stage once more, making an announcement. "The song is over, but the festivities have only began. Take a few minutes to catch your breath and grab a glass to drink before the next event of the evening. Today we will have many of those - music and dancing, charades, miniature stage plays, art contests, sleight of hand shows, stickfighting and more."

The master of ceremonies steps off the central raised stage, replaced by a group of other performers. They enacting a silent show of various magic tricks involving handkerchiefs, cards, flowers, and ravens, though it seems they're meant more as a background entertainment while everyone catches their breaths after the dance.Meanwhile, the muscal ensembles began playing a quieter melody in the background.

---

The students once again mingle. Some seem enthusiastic about some of the upcoming contests and challenges. The two Ingastese Karposarks and the Shik Monomorph discuss something by a table with glasses in hand.

As the dance came to an end, Celune accepted a glass from one of the nearby tables, though her attention lingered elsewhere. During the dance, she had noticed the two Ingastese students repeatedly keeping their distance whenever their paths crossed. It was too deliberate to dismiss as coincidence.

Taking an unhurried sip, she waited until the trio's conversation seemed to lull before approaching with her usual composed smile.

"Forgive me," she said evenly. "You looked as though you recognized me. If it's because of my family name... I wouldn't be surprised. Even so, I'd rather introductions begin with who we are now than with old stories."

The two Ingastese look mildly surprised by the approach, and not exactly happy, while the Shik is more neutral.

"So it seems, judging by the response, that the rumours are true. A Tomeu is joining the ranks of the Seminary. But very well, introductions there will be. I am Ceaseless Wheel, or Nedgelao, and this is Akkiu, or Salt Flower," she extends a hand to the Shik companion. While still wary, she doesn't seem entirely unapproachable now.

The heavy-set Ingastese gives Wheel a disapproving side glance, then looks back at Celune with a cold, almost scornful expression. "So be it. I am Canopy of Stars
, or Shektuzeo, of the Emerald Quill dynasty."Akkiu says nothing, seemingly deferring to Ceaseless Wheel.

"A pleasure to meet you all."

Celune accepted the introductions with a courteous nod, though the mention of the Emerald Quill dynasty was not lost on her. Her gaze settled briefly on Canopy of Stars before returning to the group as a whole.

"History has left many families with grievances. I won't pretend otherwise." A faint, restrained smile crossed her face. "Still, we're here as students now. I'd rather judge and be judged by the choices we make here than by those made generations ago."

Art wipes the sweat from his brow with a deep exhale as the song ends. One might mistake it for the sweat of fatigue if they were not aware of his physical fitness. He was fine with that misunderstanding. The announcement from the master of ceremonies set only more tension within the young karposark until the mention of art contests graced his ears. Perhaps there would be something more to look forward to after all.

After a few moments of enviously eyeing the Ruby Moth citizens following their display of confidence and carefree nature, Art walks toward the two of them. "I admire your confidence in the face of new challenges. Is that a common characteristic in the Ruby Moth Realms?"

Akkiu ultimately decides to chime in in response to Celune's statement. "Makes sense. Besides, you two seem to be angry at her dynasty for opposing reasons."

Wheel merely glances at Akkiu disapprovingly - not with dislike nor with anger, but with worry, as if his words could be dangerous or at least troublesome.

Canopy gazes at Celune sceptically. "We shall see."

The words sound hollow.

---

Both of the Ruby Moth Realm citizens smile at Art's comment.

"Probably no more than anyone else. But it was a welcome warm-up after all the waiting in this weather," says one.

The second nods in approval, and adds, "Plus it's not like anything bad could happen from dancing 'wrong'."

"Speak for yourself, embarrasment can go a long way to undermine a career," counters the first, though the tone seems amiable even if the concern is genuine.

"It is not so in Smithland. Follies on the field cost lives, whereas follies in the ballroom only cost face. The Autarch is a wise ruler, and values the former a good deal more than the latter." Shadow remarked benignly, sipping from a glass he had procured at one of the refreshment tables.

Meanwhile in the background, Sahrethe and Nightgleam approach another of the tables, and grab a couple of bisquits for a quick bite, while seemingly chatting about something.

Shadow's smile widened as he grinned towards the citizen, inclining his head. "Would you be led, on a personal basis, by one competent monarch, or a panel of a dozen corrupt and incompetent bureaucrats? At the very least, with the former, you only need to judge a person's character correctly once to secure a lifetime of honorable servitude in line with your principles. With the latter, there is no such chance."

"The Autarch rules based upon merit. It is how my family has risen to the levels they currently enjoy. As for how one makes someone like the Autarch avoid corruption..." Shadow trailed off uncomfortably, unwilling to point out that all who rose to power through feats of war had to be careful about such repercussions in turn.

It seems by the time Shadow's words fell silent, some of the classmates already took note of the discussion, and took place around those engaging in the discourse, choosing their position in ways that may subtly signify favour.

The two Siirla Poikilomorphs seem to gravitate towards Shadow's side. The redhead in Smithland ceremoninal armour hesitantly steps away from his companions and also takes this side.

Two Moth Realmers, meanwhile, are joined by the two scarred nobles (who have been 'abandoned' by the aforementioned Smithlander).

Finally, the Ouvb-makeup-wearing companion of the two Poikilomorphs merely comes closer to listen, but stands equidistant from the two 'camps'. He is then joined by Ngofu.

---

Once it is clear the listeners stopped moving around, Moth-Realmer speaks in a polite, pleasant, yet assertive tone. "Indeed how does one. The closer someone's power is to absolute, the harder it is to take away when it is abused."

Joining the circle but taking no definite side Danikle tosses a few words in with casual disinterest.
"I have always believed the maxim that those who wish to rule are the least fit to do so for that very reason. It is a terrible burden and any who honestly want the mantle must have some selfish desire around how they could abuse it."

The discussion of dancing that was meant to serve as a pivot did exactly that, it seemed. However, the topic of conversation was more serious than Art had been intending. Perhaps this night would be nothing but transitioning from one stressful situation to another, he wondered. Still, it was better to not avoid the dancefloor.
Art stepped alongside the two denizens of the Ruby Moth Realms. "Civilization's promise of collective collaboration is its purpose. If I want to limit the amount of times I need to trust others, then I am better off living feral and trusting only myself."

The skull-wearing one nods silently at Danikle's words.

The Moth-realmer glances in Art's direction, puzzled, and mutters quietly, "Can't tell if you're alluding to mistrusting the monarch or the bureaucrats . . ."

Art looks back and forth from Moth Realmer to Shadow, trying to find where his point was lost. "Limiting power to one to not have to trust many is a futile endeavor that runs counter to the purpose of civilization. In response to the question of trust." His delivery is not as smooth as the first. The disturbance of being misunderstood is present within his voice and face.

"Perhaps the uncertainty of another's tenor speaks to the uncertainty at your heart." Shadow said mildly to the woman.

"If the Autrach chose, he could choose to make Smithlandian life hell. But he does not, and we prosper under effective rule. Whilst trust in bureaucracy only breeds indifferent results at best, or rank corruption at worst. Not quite the massacres a truly wicked monarch could achieve, but hardly beneficial either."

"Absolute unity under one person's leadership has yet to be achieved, if my knowledge is correct. The historical precedent is that wickedness is not needed for strife. Only disagreement and imbalance of power." Art's allusion to the Chorizemic Civil War is likely obvious to anyone from his own country. However, each syllable of the word of evil is oddly emphasized in his delivery. Something about his own views is being left unstated.

"Higher Powers are at best merchants. They sell advantages at a cost, always at a cost. There is no such thing as a charitable man in this world, and that applies to what one might consider gods. If they were truly deific, why not wipe us out entirely or elevate us to utopia? If they must rely upon mortal means, puppets and politics, then they are but like us." Shadow said reflexively, his expression hardening imperceptibly.

The two Poikilomorphs almost simultaneously turn their heads to stare at Shadow, and each takes a small step back. The bearded Ouvb-lander tilts his head with an expression of surprised approval, and after a second nods. Others' reactions are subtler, but it's clear all or most of them realise they're dealing with a Misotheist of some flavour.

Noticing the commotion from far away, the two Ingastese turn towards the circle of discussions and begin walking to it.

Left behind, Akkiu quietly addresses Celune: "I apologise for Wheel. I'm not sure I understand the full context, but if it's over some events of distant past, I think she'll come around, especially if I throw in a calming word or two. Unless it's unwelcome and I should mind my own business, of course."

---

Meanwhile, seeing that the debate is heading towards ever more serious matters, the leading masked performer interrupted it with another announcement.

"Now that you all had a chance to catch your breath, let us move on to the next event of the evening. We all know that spiritual matters go hand in hand with inspiration and creativity. Many of those joining the seminary came here not only for the lore, but also for artistic studies. Temple musicians and architects, sculptors and painters, woodcarvers and silversmiths, and many others.

Thus, the next event is the quick art contest. Those who want to participate, pick a subject or topic that everyone present has surely witnessed, and choose the form of your art. We have a selection of instruments and media assembled based on some of the listed proficiencies of students, to be provided upon request. Then those who want to participate in the contest are to secretly write down the subject or topic, and begin work - every aspiring artist is given half an hour, while everyone else is free to walk around and watch the creativity.

Once the time is up, the audience are to try naming what is being depicted, and participants are to be judged based on both the artistic value of the result, and the clarity of its content.

Who shall participate?"

---

Of the students of your prospective class, at least seven raise their hands:

The big-eyed Siirla, the two Ruby Moth Realmers, Canopy of Stars, Sahrethe, the Smithlander whose name you don't know, and finally Akkiu.

He lingers for a bit, reluctant to walk away too hastily after talking to Celune, but raises his hand in such a way that it's clear to the master of ceremonies that he'll be on his way as soon as it's appropriate. "I'm going to try my luck at the contest. So, what do you say about Wheel - should I try placating her on your behalf, or stay out of your ancient rivalry?"

---

Art frowned slightly when the discussion shifted to the influence of the Higher Powers. The notion that those otherworldly forces were some manner of autonomous deities always bothered him. It felt unnatural. Manufactured. Little different than the personification of a storm as the sky being angry. Feeling that way was understandable, but the rapid and vast expansion of his knowledge regarding the world and its workings did more to make it seem less and less like there were any grand controllers. Any contributions of these beliefs to the discussion were cut off by the Master of Ceremonies.

An eighth hand rises with the others. With the prior opportunity to voice his beliefs gone, Art found a new one. There was a brief exchange of a small scrap of paper. It contained the sobering subject that often returned to his thoughts: "The Lightbringer's Descent." He requested some paints, paper, and brushes, but the brushes would be scantly used. His fingers got to work painting a canvas the way he was used to. Occasionally, he would reach for other instruments to apply a different texture or shape in way that his fingers would not do. The final result was a painting of a faceless crowd of individuals sitting on a hilltop, watching their world end as the Lightbringer sank back down to the Inner Abyss. Symbols representing the Higher Powers were etched into the sky, fading away as the light left.

Still carrying his misgivings from earliers upset with his friend Danikle sits taciturn to watch the unfolding art. Clearly lost in his thoughts and insecurities.

The other participants in the contest also began asking for the right tools and began work.

The two Ruby Moth Realm citizens requested paper, brushes, and ink, and began writing various phrasemes and motivational expressions in calligraphic font. While the handwriting is neat, absolutely nobody seems to find any artistic merit in those papers.Akkiu requested wooden planks, carving knives, a brazier of hot coals, and metal awls of varying sizes. He proceeded to create a wooden bas relief of One-Way Journey. His work was technically proficient and quick, but was very much just a duplication of the classical depictions. Ceaseless Wheel opted to spend most of the contest watching him work.The other Smithlander requested a set of flowers, and began weaving them into an bouquet involving different species and colours. It's not the most impressive of displays, yet the scarred duo of nobles - Ouvb and Hvirati - stood behind him, exchanging warm and gentle commentary praising the bouquet.Canopy of Stars requested a vase, brushes, and coloured glazing materials. He then proceeded to create patterns that don't seem in line with any of the Necklace cultures. The whole piece looks mildly innovative for someone who surely isn't an artist, but that's about it. The artistic Poikilomorph requests paper and charcoal sticks. It then proceeded to make a few simple depictions of animals, done in such a way that the onlookers kept guessing wrong what the final image would be depicting. This amused many onlookers, who treated the whole matter more like a performance than like a 'mere' production of drawings.

And then the artist changed themes, making what was clearly a caricature of the Ruby Moth Realmer engaged in debate, and eliciting a handful of chuckles from the onlookers.Sahrethe requested permission to use the ensemble's harpsichord, and spent perhaps half of the allocated time checking that it's tuned and quietly performing warm-up exercises. Once content, she signalled that she's about to begin, calling forth some of the audience. She then proceeded to play a piece normally meant for an arc organ (and thus not as impressive on a harpsichord), and accompanying it with wordless, melismatic singing. An at times ominous yet rather hopeful-sounding melody - Fascination of Discontinuity.

Most of the other contestants seem to have recognised the melody.

---

The largest part of the non-competing crowd seemed to prioritise hanging around the Siirla painter throughout the duration of the contest. So much so that at some point the Ruby Moth Realmers took a break from their calligraphy and saw the caricature (among other things), and returned to their brushes and papers annoyed. (They did not directly confront the artist over it, however, at least for now.)

Many of the other students flocked to Sahrethe during the musical performance, though most of those returned to the Siirla right after. Nightgleam, however, went towards Art, who was surrounded by a modest following at the time. After noticing Nightgleam's departure, Sahrethe went after him, eventually catching up and then seeing the picture he was admiring.

"Oh. Well that's rather ominous for such a festive event," she said as she stood close by Nightgleam's side.

The Chorizemic did not avert his gaze from the image. "It is. But there is grandeur in this sombreness. There is order, and there is hope, and foresight. While we yet know not how, our successors of next millennia will not perish tracelessly into the Abyss, but their deeds and choices will have a subtle yet strong impact on what the next Cycle of Existence will be like."

Art smiles briefly over his shoulder towards Sahe, Nightgleam, and the others admiring his work. "Children learn about our current understanding of the world much earlier than I did." His eyes return to the painting, lingering on the group upon the hill. "Coming to civilization made me feel small. Learning about its history made civilization feel small. Learning about the Higher Powers and the Lightbringer made everything feel small. The feeling is one I return to frequently. It puts things into perspective."

While by no means as popular as the other visual artist, Art of Stone does attract a decent audience, and his efforts are also carefully observed by the event staff.

Once time is up, several servants sequentially approach all the students who have not participated in the contests, requesting them to discretely share their preference or ranking of the participants.Eventually, after the staff has processed both the opinions of the audience and of their own professional evaluations, the master of ceremonies stands at the central podium and speaks. "Esteemed celebrants, the contest is over, and we are about to declare our winners."

Meanwhile, other staff members approach Sahrethe, Art of Stone, and the Siirla artist, bidding them to ascend onto the stage from the far side.

A vindictive look flashes over Danikle's face and for a moment he contemplates voting for anyone other than Sahe out of spite for their earlier disagreement. Before impulse can overtake him Art's words about the smallness of things catches up to him and he wrestles for a moment with the extreme smallness of this petty grudge he has decided to hold for words unheard.

"I suppose I must cast my voice in favor of the work of Art of Stone, it has beauty beyond just its surface but in the depths of what it conveys."

After the attendant collects his answer he casts an apologetic look at Sahe for his vote against her and his behavior thus far. Resolving to find a moment to thank Art for his unknowing aid and apologize to Sahe and her conversation partner for his smallness.

Glancing at Danikle in silence, Shadow raised his hand to point towards Sahe with a wryly amused expression, casting his vote in counterbalance of his friend.

With all three winners were on stage, the Master of Ceremonies begins to speak. "The undisputed winner of our contest, aspiring architect and shrine-painter, is Chishiyio, or Mountain Brook, of the Siirla Holy Commonwealth. On the behalf of the senior student body, allow me to gift you with the signed copy of Shrine Architecture of Northern Provinces by Thonaiklo of the Ilravua dynasty." One of the other stage professionals steps forward and extends a thick tome. The audience applauds.

The Siirla bows and accepts the book. "Thank you, thank you," it says in a very slightly high-pitched voice.

In the audience, the two Ruby Moth Realmers, who until now were taking their loss in stride, seem to have had their moods turned sour for a minute.

"But for the next-best participants, we have a surprise. There's no way around it: we do not have a second and third place this time. We have two artists equal in quality, yet different in kind. They are Sahrethe, retainer of the Ilisvalne dynasty, and Art of Stone, or Aevluistu Fleumnioro, Laureate of the Crownforger dynasty.

The senior student society will gift you with two sets of carving tools - for wood and for stone - and a set of manuscript paper for sheet music." Two more stage professionals step in and hand over the gifts just as the audience applauds. The carving tools are offered in two open cases, their blades look fine and their handles covered in elegant floral patterns. The bound stack of manuscript paper, on the other hand, seems less fancy; still, paper is a valuable consumable.

Sahrethe doesn't seem bothered by the discrepancy, and bows to the stage professionals. "Thank you very much."

In fact she seems slightly more focused on the audience than on the events going on-stage - visually scanning for someone in the crowd. Nightgleam, to be precise. Who seems to be watching and applauding to both of the tied artists with equal interest.

Danikle will make his way through the crowd to nightgleam to attempt to pull him aside and apologize.

A great sigh of relief from work well done escapes Art as he is fetched by the staff member to ascend the stage. While all eyes may soon be on him, it wasn't unwelcome this time. Some recognition is good, he thought. Still, the karposark did not smile. It was not due to unhappiness, but merely forgetting to do so. His stoic presence on the stage perhaps added more dignity than if he had otherwise responded. Alongside Sahe, Art bows and graciously accepts the prize within its case. "Your music was quite beautiful. A muse. I do not know if I would be standing up here without it." He says in stride to the musician. After congratulating the two winners and thanking the hosts, Art looks about the room to look for signs of displeasure, even if his skills with such a thing aren't refined. The seminary's recognition of his status as Laureate within the Crownforger dynasty lead him to wonder if others would care about such a thing.

Nightgleam, who until now was focused on the winnersshifted his attention to Danikle, and seemed surprised and a bit confused by the apologetic approach, and bowed slightly to the noble, and responded in a way that seemed to balance between a counter-apology and an implied question. "I'm afraid that if there is something wrong, I may be not grasping the situation."

---

On the stage, Sahrethe bows deeply to Art. "Thank you very much. This is a very moving compliment from someone who manages to produce paintings like these," she gestures in the direction of the latest opus.

While the winners of the contest talk, it seems the audience is mostly either admiring them, or murmuring in anticipation of what would come next. As for signs of discontent, there are only two people showing such: the two Ruby Moth Realmers, who seem to be staring daggers at Chishiyio, the Siirla artist.

---

"And now that this contest is over, our next dance will be in the style brought in from the Fringe and spread throughout the Intercon, the Wind-Charmer Tribe islands, and further duskwards. The waltz," the Master o Ceremonies gestures towards the dance floor, hinting that it's time for the winners to return there too.

---

Hearing the announcement about the next song and dance, the students begin planning the next steps: those who were more familiar with the foreign dance and wanted to try it begin looking around for potential partners. The Hvirati-Ouvb-Smithland trio exchange glances, uncertain but warm. Akkio and Ceaseless Wheel embrace each other as if the music already started. The amphibious-looking Poikilomorph and the two companions look at each other coldly. Sahrethe steps down from the stage towards Nightgleam, who is heading in the opposite direction, but seemingly focused on Art rather than Sahe.

Seeing the confusion in Nightgleams gestures Danikle smiles comfortingly.
"I only come to apologize for my earlier bit of venom. I was caught up in small thoughts that revolved around only myself and mistook your whispers for afront. I am sorry for my mistrust and unbecomming behavior.
I hope we can get along in our studies and adventures hereafter."

Nightgleam bows again. "It is to be expected that when many people from across the world get acquainted, some misunderstandings would happen. I apologise for whatever wrong impressions I may be at fault for. And I do share your hopes," he smiles politely.

He gives a smile and a nod to Nightgleam appreciating the warm reception of his apology. Next he turns to watch the unfolding of the next dance realizing any further apologies would likely need to wait for another quieter moment of the celebration.

By the time Danikle and Nightgleam finished their exchange, Sahrethe approaches the duo, addressing the latter "Up for a round of the new fad?"

Nightgleam seems to be caught slightly off-guard, takes a slow gaze to the side, in Art of Stone's direction, but then looks back at Sahe and nods. After that, she takes his hand and enthusiastically tugs him towards the middle of the dancefloor. Initially he lags behind, but then picks up speed and the two begin looking for a good spot that wouldn't be too crowded already.

Art of Stone watches Sahe depart towards Nightgleam, continuing to be oblivious towards the attention being paid towards him. However, the final side-long gaze that involved a far more deliberate turn of the head does not escape his notice. Watching the two walk away together, he unconsciously cocks his head to the side with a pensive expression. Perhaps I should speak with him later.
A moment later Art approaches Danikle, leaving one to wonder if it was merely due to proximity. "I value your connection with my work. Thank you. Shall we figure out this next part together?"

"You're welcome for the vote in your favor but it is truly from your own insight and expression. I actually wanted to thank you I was consumed by my own thoughts and insecurities until the perspective of your work helped me with my own perspective."
He looks over at the mass of dancing students partaking in the unfamilliar movements with some trepidation before turning back to Art.
"I would be happy to attempt to join this strange dance along with you, but you must tell me how someone so young gained such a wide perspective and ended up here!"

An intentional smile is given to Danikle in response to his gratitude. This may have been Art's favorite aspect of civilization. "I painted, carved, and scratched for only myself for what felt like a very long time. Isolation stretches time. It doesn't feel the same." The artist pauses, focusing on practicing the strange dance and observing those more familiar. "But I am comfortable with it. I had to learn to be. It also gives me a long time to think." He pauses again, choosing his words and movements at the same time. "I was given a lot of things to think about very quickly. My perspective had to widen in acceptance or narrow in denial. I accepted and wanted to work within the larger ecosystem of civilization. Now I am here to learn." He simply stares back at his classmate now, seemingly having caught on to the dance's movements. It goes unsaid, but there is an expectation for Danikle to reciprocate an explanation.

Seeing the unspoken opening to share a strange looks washes over Danikle morphing into a self mocking smile.
"I am your opposite somewhat! I was raised in a large family heavy with expectation, I did everything I could to seek isolation and reprieve from it. Alas I found myself with too many talents for my family to ignore and so my attempted escape from expectation failed and I have been sent here to foster my growth."
He smiles more brilliantly at Art
"I would gladly have traded for the wilds, so full of wonderous flora and ecosystems I can scarcely imagine wanting to leave it for this!"

It comes on slowly, but Art's lips curl into an unintentional smile before evolving into a snicker that his face seems unaccustomed to. "That is not an unfamiliar sentiment. You might have an idealistic view. It is beautiful, but harsh. Not unlike civilization. Seek out an opportunity to experience it for yourself if perspective is what you desire."

"I certainly hope to experience it. There are quite a few specimen I want to collect that will require a forray into the wilds. However it's not the perspective I want it's the freedom. To be like a wild tree and grow in whichever direction you want. My path is more like the bonzai carefully kept and clipped to grow as is desired and in no other way. I got away a long time by simply not growing, but that is no longer permitted either."

Glancing around for potential partners, Shadow's eyes drifted to the trio for a second, considering them as a likely candidate, before then glancing at Ngofu. A mischievous light touched his emerald eyes as he strode boldly towards her, extending a white gloved hand with palm upturned.

"One might be forgiven for desiring to claim the first dance with a resilient and admirable individual such as yourself," He quipped innocently enough, although his expression belied his words somewhat.

The Smithlander turns towards Shadow, looking back at him - for a moment with uncertainty, then with cold contempt. "Perhaps, but one can then be forgiven for rejecting the advances of such an opportunistic and ignoble upstart who thinks that a superficial compliment and a sleazy smile will be enough to make anyone forget both who he is and the not so forgivable things he did and probably will do again as soon as everyone's back is turned," she responds calmly yet firmly, and with enough volume to attract the attention of a few nearby students, and probably leaving an impression.

Having said her piece, she walks away, initially in the direction of the Ouvb-Hvirati-Smithland trio, which at the moment initiated a single round of a hand game to resolve something. Seconds later, the trio look at each other's hands, counting fingers, after which the Hvirati and the Smithlander pair off for the dance, while the Ouvb noble waits and watches.

Seeing and reassessing the situation, Ngofu slows down, scans the room for other candidates, and eventually adjusts her course towards one of the Ruby Moth citizens - specifically, Midnight Quiet. The music begins playing before she reaches him, so it's difficult to hear what they say to each other.

Watching her depart, Shadow folded his fingers back slowly, looking thoughtful as he digested her response. He tilted his head from side to side for a second, appearing to weigh hidden considerations within his mind, before also retreating back towards the walls to watch the others dance. She disliked him, of course, and his house. He expected no less about that. But she didn't seem conniving enough to take advantage of a somewhat-obvious weakness to worm her way into a position where she might strike in an unsavory but effective manner.

However, his true question...Whether she held the same dislike for her native land...Went unanswered. And more importantly, what she felt about the Autarch...For while he lived, the Autarch truly was Smithland in name and effect.

"What is stopping you? How would they find you if you decided to disappear into lands unknown?" Art of Stone asked with sincerity in his voice. Enthralled by the intimate conversation, the rising tension between Shadow and Ngofu went beyond his notice.

Danikle seems taken aback for a moment by the idea of just simply.... going. He falls into deep thought for a while before a self mocking look crosses over him. "I honestly never even considered just running away haha! If I had met you two years ago perhaps I would have, I was still allowed to go unoticed then. Now I am monitered and its too late. If I find a way to break free perhaps I'll try to convince you to guide me on my escape!!"

With the music picking up, the students dance.

Ngofu with Midnight Quiet. Akkiu with Ceaseless Wheel. The scarred Hvirati noble with the Smithlander noble. Sahe with Nightgleam, though the latter spends most of the dance stealing glances in Art's direction. The two Siirla and the Ouvb resident each seem to practice the steps without partners, with the artist having the most luck in getting them right.

There's a brief period when the music slows and quiets down to an ambient, giving people opportunities to step away from the dance area or join in, and some do use it:

Sahe and Nightgleam have a brief discussion until the music picks up again. The scarred Ouvb noble trades places with the scarred Hvirati noble, and becomes the one to dance with the Smithlander, under the other noble's appreciative gaze. The lake-adapted Interconner and the two companions use the lull to exchange a few phrases, but do not join the dance.

Blooming Storm approaches Shadow Under Steel's Edge, extending a hand, palm facing upwards. "It seems you might have been overly candid in your loyalty. Shall we?"

Watching the dancing Danikle wrestles in a battle with his newly minted perspective on the situation and his jelousy, watching Sahe at times and at others watching anywhere else.
He hangs by the edge of the dance floor neglecting to join in.

Smiling, Shadow tilted his head slightly to the side as he took Blooming Storm's hand. "Honesty is a shield against deception. Besides, they acted in a manner which I fully expected. The normal response one would produce, of course. If they had accepted, I would have suspected intentions to try and utilize what they might see as a whimsical, slightly contrarian supporter of Smithland in a bid to usurp the usurpers, as it were."

"The fact that they did not, means that they are honest, if nothing else. An honest enemy is one who is not beyond redemption, and at least, they simply hate me...Not Smithland.'"

Emreruo takes the first steps as the music is picking up again. "Are we both talking about the big debate, or are you responding about a more narrow, specific context of enmity?"

"The big picture should always be kept in mind, although I suppose I should let myself go a bit as a new student," Shadow mused thoughtfully.

With her hand in Shadow's, Blooming storm brings the other arm into the closed position characteristic of the dance, and takes the first step. And with that action, revealse a fork in the road for Shadow to consider:

Unlike the more traditional dances of the Necklace, the steps of a pair in a waltz are significantly asymmetric, in that one dancer leads and the other is being led. And different students seem to have a different way of dealing with this nuance of the dance: Nightgleam seems content being led by Sahe; the unintroduced Smithlander and the scarred Hvirati noble, and subsequently the former and the scarred Ouvb noble, seem to occasionally flip who leads and be equally comfortable in either role; Ngofu and Midnight Quiet seemed to both try taking the lead, and bicker a bit until settling on the former leading (which probably has to do with their respective ranks); Akkiu and Ceaseless Wheel both seemed to want the other to take the initiative, resulting in indecisive movements.

Blooming Storm is clearly an ambitious individual who wants to be in charge. But will Shadow follow, or try to contest that?

As they settled into the dance, an amused smile touched Shadow's lips as he read her movements, allowing her to lead as he followed along dutifully, playing the role of the professional aide and matching her inch for inch. Although every measured step he took was much slower, he covered twice as much distance, remaining as the anchor to which the dance revolved.

"Ambition is a wonderful thing, it lends fire to the breast and climbs to one's head...Up until doubt shatters it. When the first under your command dies, doubt begins to worm in. Then when the fiftieth dies, a different sort of doubt sets in...Wondering what kind of a leader kills their own in such a cruel manner, salving their fates with something as meaningless as duty. I only hope you find leadership more palatable than I do."

After exchanging brief farewells with Danikle, Art of Stone watches Sahe and Nightgleam pause their dancing during an interlude of the music. It was a clear opportunity to follow up on the body language from the latter earlier. "My dance partner is taking a break. Am I mistaken in thinking you wanted a dance with me?" He says after approaching the two, looking toward Nightgleam.

In the dance, Emreruo manages to combine her usual confidence and poise with a significant lack of familiarity with the dance or physical practice. Which is to say, she looks good until the more complicated steps and spin happen, but she recovers quickly when the tricky part is over. "Nobody taught me that the path of nobility would be a walk in a cosy park. People die, yes. A wise ruler ensures that the sacrifices are less than the deaths should a different ruler were to succeed in contesting the power, whether by invasion or coup.

It is a world where one needs to be as harsh as necessary, but should be no harsher. If one acts too soft, one will be overtaken by a less scrupulous rival; if one engages in pointless cruelty, one risks courting betrayal from within. But even so, the finely balanced position is harsher than the naïve ones would be willing to admit.

And I'm sure, despite your commentary on the burdens of leadership, had the circumstances put one of us above the other in a chain of command, one would doubtlessly sacrifice the other for a sufficiently valuable goal. Or were we to be on opposite sides of a war, one would eschew courtesies and happily kill or capture the other. But luckily, we are neither in one chain of command, nor in command of clashing armies.

Thus, we have little to clash over given the distances between our zones of interest, and much to gain from watching each other's backs in this foreign land amid all the unknowns."

---

Lioru turns to face Art, almost worming his way out of Sahe's embrace, and bows. "Not mistaken at all, Laureate. I know I am of humble origins, but would be indeed grateful for such a splendid opportunity, should you find yourself willing to grace me with it."

Sahe, frowns, but soon seems to accept that she just can't compete against Art for Lioru's attention, and starts looking around the room in search of either a different partner or other activity.She then bows to the Art and walks away from the duo, towards one of the far corners of the room with the snacks.

Art's expression shifts to one of concern or confusion, but it is difficult to discern which. Recognition of his noble rank still wasn't something he was used to, particularly with how infrequent it was. With a slightly furrowed brow, a bow is returned to both Lioru and Sahrethe. "Many would argue my own origins humble. Myself included. I believe there are others with definitively higher standing here than I."

"There certainly are," he glances sideways in the direction of the dancing duo of scarred nobles, perhaps unintentionally. "Even so, my family is humbler still, and odds are high that the Higher Powers would see me become the end of it," he smiles serenely.

"But I do apologise, perhaps I should not brought up this Principle at such a moment, if opportunity for festivities and dancing remains."

Art follows Nightgleam's side-eye, absorbing the implication. Ignoring the apology, he extends his hand out to take the lead on the dance. "Why smile if the topic is not fit for the time?" His eyes have returned to the Thespian's face and remain there, watching with curiosity. Is it an ironic or sad smile? Will I ever be able to confidently tell the two apart?

After some consideration, that seems like a smile of acceptance. Acceptance characteristic of Orderly Endings, when fully understanding what future holds, yet not regretting it.

And with that, you two join the ranks of students dancing in the middle area of the room.

"I smile because frowning would not make anything better. Also because things aren't bad, just that the fortunes I am getting to enjoy right now will not last, and whatever legacy I would leave would almost certainly be . . . different than what I have as of now. A metamorphosis at best. It is almost predetermined that I would not be able to leverage my lifepath through the Seminary and perhaps the Concordat into anything my family could inherit. It is almost predetermined that whatever successor I'd have would be some stranger I may not even meet in life, manipulated by circumstance into advancing my agenda regardless of personal opinion and kinship.

But again, this not all bad. It's just quite the contrast to a dynasty forged purely through mortal effort from the ground up, and one passing on the fruits of its efforts by kinship, even when circumstances conspire against such continuity, like how they tried to in your case. And I think these contrasts and differences are fascinating."

Silence would occupy the air between the two were it not for the music guiding their dance. A pensive expression now occupies the former feral's face. He focuses on the dance, but his mind works in tandem to process his partner's story.

"They are fascinating. There are many contrasts that I am discovering today. I anticipated only the fairly obvious ones," he says after several moments. "Leaving inheritance for the ones I call family is my intended legacy. Your acceptance is admirable. I cannot say I would feel the same."

Art glances over at Danikle resting on the sidelines. "Indeed, I would likely rage against the currents that tried to shape my fate if I did not like the outcome. Even if that Principle you mentioned necessitates that all fortunes and legacies eventually share the same fate."

For his part Danikle catching up to the unfolding dance outside the confines of his thoughts would notice Sahe unnacompanied and make his way over to her to walk beside her towards the food tables.
A slight moment of perhaps uncomfortable silence is broken as he turns towards her.
"I apologize for my outsburst, my imagination has seemed to lead my good sense by the nose."

"It doesn't have to be such a life you lead. Indeed, in Smithland the rule is that of the typical noble line, passed down through generations of indolence and mild incompetence that does not threaten the nation's bottom line. True, I may sound like a hypocrite with the revolution and my family's new standing, but such events are far and few between. I do not expect another in our lifetimes, not with our Autarch."

"Do you desire happiness? You may have it. Children, a long life, hobbies which are neither political nor militaristic nor economically beneficial. A life lived without plotting. There is nothing at the end of the road called Ambition save a mountain-top, a lonely seat where no warmth will touch you. Our Autarch is a smart man, and occupies himself so as to not become miserable...But he is."

Blooming Storm watches Shadow closely, spending many a moment thinking over his words.

"I see. So not only will you exalt the merit of a strong leader, but also warn anyone else of trying to exhibit even remotely similar merits or walking an even remotely similar path.

I thought after the controversy your speech caused, you'd be on the lookout for an ally of convenience who wouldn't be pushed away by your views. Was I wrong to approach you thus?"

---

"Some do rage. That is not necessarily productive. Sometimes it can make things worse, as the tidal wave snaps back.

But I also understand that just giving up is also counterproductive. And yet, it can be difficult to assess one's chances of resisting the tide, to figure out which things to rage against and which ones to accept.

Mortals may have a very hard time opposing Higher Powers, but one who manages to pull that off in a sufficiently . . . worthy manner, can reap uncommon benefits."

In the distance, some of the genteel students - thankfully not from your group - seem to be occasionally staring at the two of you in disapproval and exchanging whispers.

---

Sahrethe freezes for a moment when you catch up, glances at you, smiles with uncertainty, and then resumes looking over a set of biscuits on the table until eventually picking one. She chooses her words carefully.

"It is of little consequence, so all is forgiven. Hopefully anyone who witnessed it will chalk it up to wine and confusion, or better yet forget about it by the start of next year.

And yet I think one cannot hope for good luck to last forever. We are no longer mere same-age children playing in the estate's inner gardens behind the safety of estate walls. We have grown up and entered wide society, standing on its open palm, and we now have our roles to play, and we no longer set our own standards for those roles."

The gentle chastisement lands with a chuckle from Danikle. Plucking up a biscuit he asks her without turning.
"Do you intend to just go along with the demands of the plays director or does any of our childhood rebeliousness remain in you?"
He pivots towards her holding out the treat and a closed hand that he slowly opens to reveal a twin of the biscuit hidden within. His outstretched hands emphasizing the original as he says.
"After all as long as all looks well on the stage, how is anyone to know what happens behind it."
As he pops the biscuits twin into his mouth pretending to chew on the illusion and giving her his best conspiratorial smirk.

Sahrethe seems impressed by the trick. And perhaps a bit concerned. Certainly convinced by the illusion. But then again, the twin bisquit tastes the same as one would expect a snack found at a high society ball to taste, even to Danikle. So perhaps there is nothing unusual in an unchosen mortal treating the little miracle seriously.

"There is some left. But there is also the realisation of how close to the edge I sometimes walked even back then. And the understanding that out here the repercussions can be more swift and more severe, and less avoidable. Out here, even for you. So now that the carefree days are over, it is best to think one's words and actions through."

The confidence crumples a little under the weight of reality but he manages to hold his smile through.
"Some will have to be enough. I will endeavor to keep a wider perspective before I speak and act."

Pausing, Shadow flashed her an apologetic smile. "Hardly. I welcome any ally with open arms, and the Autarch no doubt does as well. However....I speak to you as a student first and foremost, Blooming Storm."

His smile softened slightly, grew slightly sadder. "I do not wish to conscript nor trick those who walk a stony path without warning them of cut soles and blistered feet first. It truly is not an easy path, and one I walk only out of necessity. But if you wish to as well, I will do what I can so we walk that path to its conclusion."

Sahe exhales in relief. It is at this point that it becomes clear that she was more tense in the minutes before. "Good."

---

"That I am here not as a representative of my dynasty should be hint enough that I willingly opt to forego the easier path."

"Congratulations on your performance by the way! I have missed hearing you play."
Knowing more ceremonies are doubtless to follow he begins making his way back towards the festivities content to watch and wait for now.

"An admirable notion. If I may ask, how high do you aim to proceed in this existence? Imperial merit tends to be accumulated in one of two ways. Merit in external affairs...Or internal intrigue. And Empires tend to accumulate the former through wars, and the latter through poisons."

"It sounds like you are still deciding what is worth raging against and what you will have to concede." Art's dancing stiffens slightly as he feels like he is being watched. It is only a moment later that he returns to the routine normally, realizing that his observers are merely other students. "We have an audience."

"Thank you," Sahe makes a very shallow bow, "I'm glad that despite my training being informal, my performance seems to have lived up to the expectations of this crowd."

---

"As high as the bestowed rank would happen to be. Which would probably mean not too high, for beyond a certain height it is rare for the rulers to bestow ranks on someone rising from below. And me being here does means the path through external merit is the most likely."

---

"Indeed, I am not knowledgeable enough to predict what the Thespian life has in store for me. Hopefully this fine institution will offer me the theological lessons required to not become lost among the whims of Higher Powers."

Nightgleam turns his head to glance behind himself briefly, then gives up on the idea and continues focusing on the dance. "And indeed I'm sure we do have one, given that we used the festivities as an excuse to forget our stations. That's just a part of new life that I will have to deal with, even if not quite in the same way as today."

---

The melody reaches its end, and the master of ceremonies walks once again onto the central podium. "Esteemed celebrants, I know that many of you are admirers and practitioners of martial disciplines. Thus, as promised, we are now offering a chance to demonstrate those proficiencies, and watch such a demonstration, in a contest of light-contact stickfighting.

Those who wish to participate will be assigned opponents and given a choice of stick lengths; if the two opponents' choices differ significantly, an average of the two will be given instead. Three coups mark a victory in a match.

Winners and participants will receive charm-papers made by the local shrine-keepers and feretorists, carrying wishes and blessings from the previous year into the future one."

---

Sahe glances over Danikle's shoulder at the master of ceremonies. "Oh, the advertised tournament. I wonder: I had a rather sheltered upbringing and am not proficient with weapons, while Nightgleam seems to have had more contact with the rougher side of life; I'm wondering if that makes him more prepared and more inclined to test his mettle against the other students."

---

As announcement is finished, Nightgleam looks at Art. "Forgive me the naïve question, but did you fight beasts a lot during your feral years? Including with spears or the like? And what do you think of people engaging in competitions like these?"

---

Blooming Storm seeks out Ngofu among the crowd with her eyes, but then looks back at Shadow. "Seems like circumstances might be presenting you with an opportunity to face your rival, at least if you both draw the right lots and stay in the tournament long enough. The question is, do you want to try snatching it?"

---

---

---

Danikle stiffens somewhat as the conversation shifts attenpting to mask it with a cought. "How did you become so acquainted with nightgleam?"

"We bumped into each other when coming into the seminary to confirm our registrations after arriving in Tern City, started some small talk, realised that we're peers both blessed by a rare opportunity in a millieu of more illustrious students, one thing led to another, and now finally here we are as you can see."

Art opens his mouth to ask what was wrong with their interaction, but finds himself cut off by the master of ceremonies. After the announcement ends, he continues looking on at the podium for several moments, not responding to Nightgleam's following inquiry. Surprise and excitement gripped him. "Fight? No. I hunted. They are very different. I did use spears, stones, and traps often." A heavy breath shudders out of him as he tempers himself. "Violence seems very... divisive. I often forget that competitions like these exist. I believe it natural, though. Some animals fight amongst themselves as a form of play. We are no different. I am no different." There is a playful smirk on Art of Stone's face when he looks back to his now former dance partner.