Tradition Facilitated Introductions

As expected of a university for the higher members of society, this hall radiates the concept of prestige at you from every imaginable angle. Painted portraits of the previous principals and star students were hung on all four walls, while the top and bottom of said walls were decorated with gold plated patterns. The only problem with this space is that it’s supposed to serve as a sports hall. You wouldn't normally see such precious paintings hung in a place where various sport related items could be hurled at the walls. It goes to show how even such a relatively small event as greeting the incoming students gets taken extremely seriously in this establishment. I assume it's a tradition in the university that’s still ongoing.

Another example of this small event's importance is the fact that this hall is too big for purpose. All of the students present only occupy a quarter of the total hall space available. We could have fit into a lecture hall or an even smaller room. Chairs are placed width wise so there are only eight rows of very polished folding chairs present, with six rows being fully used. A deep red curtain hung from the high ceiling behind the last row of seats to make this space feel more intimate and professional. Probably. Maybe it was to reduce echo. The pattern embroidered carpet covering the wooden panels of the hall is rolled out for the looks and functionality, just like the curtain.

This is bad. I am running out of things to describe in this room.

I could try to decipher all of the muffled discussions coming from around me, but I’d rather not put one pinch of brain power into attempting to process what my peers and their servants could be saying. My own assistant, James, was not available this morning due to a talk he needed to attend with Father, so I only have myself for company. That’s nothing unusual- being alone is normal to me- but it does feel more aggravating than usual since I am in a room quarter filled with a dense fog of inane chatter. Thanks to the aforementioned curtain and carpet, their mashed sound waves don’t annoyingly reverberate into my ears. I silently thank whoever set up this space in this way.

The tutors sitting on the stage can be seen casually talking amongst themselves. Counting all of them brings me to a number of fifteen. More than half of them are wearing an official suit for this seemingly important tradition, but the ones that don’t wear one suggests that there isn't a dress code for staff members or this occasion. Considering the type of establishment that this is, such inappropriate clothing can be considered odd by certain people. I did unwillingly overhear snippets of conversations around me that mentioned such a fact. And to it, my response is: I don’t care. What matters is if these tutors can teach.

After waiting for what felt like an unreasonable and insulting amount of time, the principal of the university decided to finally walk onto the stage. Without missing a beat, everyone around me goes silent, as do the tutors. The round and bald man dressed in his round suit smiles at the immediate respect he got from the crowd, arrived at the microphone on the center of the stage, tapped it twice, and began his speech.

    “Good morning everyone. My name is Henry Archibald. As the current principal of this university, I’d like to officially welcome you to our humble establishment.”
A round of pointless applause began so quickly you’d think it was queued. This embarrassment lasted for a few seconds before Mr. Archibald signaled for the clapping to cease. The commotion ended as quickly as it started.
    “Now then. With my short introduction out of the way, I’d like our staff members to introduce themselves. Don’t you worry dear students, you’ll be listening to me again after they’re done.”

Mr. Archibald left the microphone on its stand and wadded off to the side, allowing the tutors to line up. The first one to speak was a well built man with a pristine lab coat covering most of his body, while only wearing a plain green shirt and grey jeans that peeked out from the gap in the non-closed front. Does he think he’s cool and unique thanks to that lab coat? He taped on the microphone to see if it’s still working, then he began his introduction.

    “Hi all. My name is Jacob Evans. I’m your go-to guy for science and ethics. I look forward to drilling my knowledge into your brains in the near future.”
He spoke these words in an almost monotone voice and without a hint of emotion radiating from his face or body. This man has a serious poker face that will need to be accounted for if I do engage with him. Another short applause rang out when Mr. Evans left the microphone.
Oh no.
It’ll happen for each tutor. This is bad. I can’t stop it.
It’s such a small thing, but it’s so hair-rippingly frustrating.
The clapping ceased when the next tutor reached the microphone. It was one of the women that had been wearing what seems to be the tailored university suit for official occasions, since it had the university's logo on her chest. She began her speech.

    “Hello all! My name is Amelia Finchley, and I teach in the business wing of the campus. You’ll see me if you chose to study anything business or banking related. I can’t wait to see what you will bring to my classroom.”
So this is the tutor that I'll study under. From this one speech of hers, she seems less strict than the ones Father forced on me. Maybe I’ll- for once- enjoy learning under her, if that personality of hers is the true one.

The next tutor seems to be out of it, awkwardly stepping towards the microphone, as if he’s recovering from a drunk night out. His creased business casual shirt and trousers appear slightly unkempt. This small detail turns to a large one when compared to the other suit wearing tutors up on stage. In contrast to his tired movements towards the microphone, when he grabbed it, everyone saw a wild burst of energy from the man as he shot his arm up, mouthed a barely audible “Yeah!” and began strumming an air guitar. This weird sequence of actions caused a small laugh to erupt from the students and some of the tutors. The other tutors and myself only sighed. I thought this was supposed to be a proper establishment? Or is this the jester of the campus?
    “Hehehe, hello fresh meat! I’m Franklin Blake. I live in the art wing. If you have any artsy instincts or problems, you’ll know where to find me. That is all. Enjoy your stay!”
Mr. Blake placed the microphone on the stand and leaped to his seat. Everything paused for a few seconds as everyone processed what just happened. After that brief time passed, the introductions continued on as normal.
There's roughly five teachers per wing of this university, which seems small, but if you consider there aren't that many students, then the thought gets thrown out the proverbial window.

Once the introductions were over, Mr. Archibald came over to the microphone to continue the show.
    “Thank you all for patiently listening. Whichever subject you chose to study in, your tutor will ensure that you’ll leave our establishment ready for your chosen role. I look forward to the results you'll produce and experiences you’ll gain from their mentorship. Lastly, I’d like to personally introduce some of our star students. Well, I say some, but we only have two high achievers in our campus. I hope that you will strive towards greatness this year, just like these fine gentlemen did last year, so that you too could stand proud of your achievements on this stage next year. Now then, please present yourselves.”

Another applause, this time deserved, rang out for the two men walking onto the stage. Immediately there is a distinction drawn between the two. The man on the left came out wearing a very finely tailored suit, as if each inch was handcrafted for him to wear for this exact moment. You could even tell his glasses came from a high fashion brand. The other man wore a loose dull green hoodie you’d find the average man of lower status wearing on the street, along with some wrinkly jeans. It’s a selection of clothes you could willingly buy only from a charity shop. No insult at charity shops and their operations intended. It’s just that… why present yourself like that in this type of university, in front of this type of crowd?

Mr. Archibald shakes the hand of each man, and then hands the microphone to the fine looking man first.
    “Nice to meet you all! My name is George Brillion. I am the person with the SECOND best grades in all of my electives. Not only that, but I’m also the SECOND best in all of the sports I participate in. That is, one on one sports. I’m also heavily favored in team sports, and outside of sports I’m generally known for lending a hand to almost anyone in need. So, if you’re ever wandering around campus and in need of any help, know that I’m out there, somewhere, willing to lend you a hand. Thank you.”
More applause rang out briefly for this man.
This is unexpected. You’d assume with his clean appearance and his stated accomplishments that he’d be the one with the best results. But that is not the case. If he’s not the best on this campus, then who is? It can’t be-
    “Thank you for your hard work, George Brillion. Now then, despite his average appearance, this is our star student, John Smyth. Please, introduce yourself.”

…
Time froze for a second after Mr. Archibald stopped speaking. Really? This is the top guy? Such an average looking man, in this establishment?
I would have not seen this twist coming. It just goes to show you that looks really aren’t everything. But then, again, the question remains. What is this man doing here in the walled garden for the children of the elite?
    “Hi, I’m John Smyth. As the principal said, I’m the top achiever in everything that I partake in. If you wish to compete with me, I'll see you on the battlefield of results.”

No applause came out for his introduction. Whatever atmosphere was here, it was so still that it could be shattered with the slightest of movements. In fact, it was shattered by the very presence of this person. Such a commoner with such a status of achievement? Even his name is painfully common. I ask myself again-
    “What is this guy doing here?”
The voice of a student pierced through the air.
    “Yeah!”
Another joined in.
    “What’s the big idea?!”
More and more began voicing their shock and disgust that such an animal held the top title in this university. In a kind of irony, the group of students could very quickly succumb to mob mentality if they don’t get themselves under control. A kind of lower class way of acting, not how a prim and proper member of the elite would act. They’d be acting like this to a commoner. I thought that this whole event might be uninteresting and tedious, but with the introduction of this individual-
    “Silence!”

Mr. Archibald shouted with the authority and conviction of an army commander, which caused everyone to fall in line out of fear. He accomplished this without using the microphone. I’m impressed. He can compete with the powerful authority of my Father with that kind of voice.
Once the room stayed silent for a few seconds, Mr. Archibald took the microphone from John’s hand and began addressing the students once more.
    “I would like to remind you all that the university started accepting special entries from the public since last year. This young man was the first person to be accepted, despite our unreasonably high requirements. I don’t think you all came into this establishment with the same level of achievement, no?”

Hold on. This is another unexpected moment.
The principle of this university that teaches the kids of rich and influential people… is throwing out an insult to the crowd?
Does he want to be fired? Fired at? Fired out of a cannon?

Despite this aimed insult at the crowd, none dared to talk back. His posture and manner of speech still radiated that powerful authority. I don’t think even the most stubborn person would retaliate to this show of force. They might try to do something in the background to mess with the principal’s standing, but with what Mr. Archibald has shown, I think he’d be fine. It would be akin to swatting flies.
    “If you have any complaints that you want to express, you can book an appointment with our counselor and he’ll forward the complaints to me. Or alternatively, my office is always open for any discussions you may want to have. Now then. Sorry about that John. Thank you for your patience, George. You’re free to go now.”
The two of them nodded and left the stage. There was no applause. Everyone stayed silent. Even the tutors on the side were visibly shaken by the sudden display of authority from the principal.

It made me wonder. If this is the reaction that the new people to this university had, then what was the reaction of everyone already present for the rise of this man through their ranks? Did others hate him the same way?
Another thing comes to mind.
John Smyth.
He’s the outside variable in this place. Everything was going normally up until his introduction. He could be the variable that’ll aid me too. Not only that, but he is the guy to beat if you want the top spot, which I do want in some specific subjects. I’ll have to see if he outranks me in those subjects.

…
Actually, no. You win wars by taking the enemy by surprise.

Imagine this. Alice Bedwyn, before the semester even began, bested the top student, John Smyth. If that will not establish a solid reputation for myself in this university, then I don’t know what will.

I’ll initiate the battle first.