The Next Five Years of Your Life

For all that Cerise tried to pass off her encroaching enrollment as a begrudging necessity, both she and Robin knew it was a done deal, if only because Cerise could clearly tell how badly the older woman was trying to suppress her smug glee in the same way her master did whenever she had an “I Told You So” moment.

At any rate, it meant that impromptu acceptance speech was mere formality: Cerise wasn’t listening, and Robin was speaking more by reflex.

“...welcome you to our University. All that’s left is the paperwork you need to sign and read before the week is out. Afterwards, we can start looking into arranging workshop space for you,” Robin concluded, as she sat behind the grand desk of the wood-lined office, somewhere in the Admin Building, possibly directly underneath the clocktower that served as the university’s axle.

All said, it was perhaps to Robin Sanarsmark’s credit that the sumptuous office was not filled with expensive knicknacks. Instead the desk and the plush sofa off to one side were drowned in documents – the physical manifestation of an endless and futile uphill bureaucratic battle. It made the small table with a bottle of sherry a little more explicable.

“Grand,” Cerise blandly answered.

Robin had to quirk an eyebrow in response. “It’s not every day that the headmistress of the nation’s most prestigious institute goes out to headhunt for talent.”

The witch put a hand on her hip, unmoved. “You twisted my wrist to put a lollipop in my hands. Being grateful and being thankful are two different things.”

“Well, if nothing else, you’ll be coming out of this time with some excellent friends.”

Robin looked over Cerise’s shoulder, and the pink-haired woman followed suit to look at the closed double doors behind her, where a trio of students had still been waiting patiently outside for some reason, after Prince Ruben had introduced them all to each other. Apparently his vouching for her was enough to at least treat her with basic courtesy, if not necessarily actual trust.

“That remains to be seen. Can I go?”

“Certainly,” Robin gregariously offered, hand out to gesture her permission. “Just be sure to turn in everything that needs to be signed and acknowledged before the week is out. Until then, enjoy the daylight – hopefully your tour will be much more hassle-free now.”

Cerise clicked her tongue. What was it with old ladies and their uncanny ability to know everything?

The witch left, suddenly part of a royal entourage as Ruben led the way down the front steps of the Admin Building, eager to lead Cerise to his favorite canteen.

“I know this server, Layla, who mans this counter, so I always get good coffee…” The blonde researcher rambled on, Cerise clinically filing the information away for later. Her enthusiasm might not be present, but she knew better than to ignore where all the good spots for food and drink were.

“Depending on which course you specialize towards, we might be seeing more of each other,” Ruben said, looking back at Cerise. “I guess you have to figure out what first classes you’ll be taking.”

“Whatever aligns with making potions for medicine,” Cerise grumbled.

That got Damon’s head to turn towards the witch so fast she wondered if he was trying to twist it right off.

“Potions!? That’s such an outdated way of doing things! That’s stuff grandmas used to do before the Ruben’s family took over! You might as well just start over while you’re here!”

“My outdated way would still fold you in half, red,” Cerise scoffed. “If not me, then my own “grandma” would show you how it’s done.”

“I’m game! Name the time and place!” Damon said with a grin, and Cerise wondered if he had ever visited the underground arena in his spare time. He certainly had a similar air to Avery.

Andrew swatted the back of Damon’s head, cutting the bravado short. “Don’t mind him. The man's dead set on sneaking his way into the palace’s guard after graduation. There’s plenty of courses, but they mainly fall under four main branches of study: Elements, Spirits, Imbuing Breath into things, and genealogies."

“We train historians?” Cerise asked, a little dumbfounded. “I thought this place was more on the “applied methods” sort of thing.”

“The Breath of the World imbues gifts that crop up in certain lineages,” Ruben answered. “The University likes to keep track of ancestry if such abilities turn up again, rare as they are.”

“It was what let the Arnises take over, after all,” Andrew snorted with some disdain, which Ruben ignored. “What’s left of the old money who still want to believe in the “power of their bloodlines” patronize the University plenty, hoping the day of their family’s resurrection is at hand.”

“I just want to get a medical license…” Cerise sighed. The talk of old families made her guts squirm with some uncertainty, and she wondered if she’d want to look at such old records herself, or what excuse she’d employ.

But there was no point giving such thoughts away. So the witch took a moment to distract everyone by needling Ruben.

“Tell me, Your Highness. If you’re such a big deal, why isn’t the campus falling to their knees everywhere you pass?”

Cerise was certain that being prince of the whole realm should be a pretty big deal. But where Ruben walked, he wasn’t given much more deference than friendly waves and nods of acknowledgement. Where were the women screaming his name or men trying to ingratiate their way into his good graces?

The prince shrugged helplessly. “It’s not like it doesn’t happen, but my novelty wore out after a week. The university rewards research and results, not connections. I’m a prince out there, but here, I have to produce results, like anyone else.”

“You should thank Ruben, anyways,” Damon piped up. “There were a whole ton of folk who tried to brag about their families or their money. Some still do, but it’s a lot harder to do when the prince doesn’t.”

“Besides, I’m not as big of a deal as you think,” Ruben added. “I’m not even inheriting the throne. That’s my sister’s job.”

Cerise actually paused for a moment at that declaration, before she chased after the others.

“Hold up, but isn’t the royal family patrilineal?” The witch couldn’t help blurting out. “From king to prince and so on?”

“Times change. It’s obvious to everyone that she’s much better at statecraft. She’s already taking over a few duties from my father. With any luck, we’ll never meet her, honestly. She’s not studying the Breath like we are.”

Cerise almost regretted changing the topic. Perhaps it was inevitable that one couldn’t escape politics at Arnis Heart’s second grandest institution after the royalty (or after the army?), especially when a prince was attending.

Ancestry, nobility, and the question of whether she could escape after five years and return to what she always did with an extra veneer of legitimacy…

Hell, the paperwork.

It made her mind spin with the sudden deluge of new factors she had to consider, and Cerise knew there was only one thing she could do to clear her mind.

“Come on, get me that coffee from Layla before I lose my mind.”