Exam

Over the course of the last fifty minutes, Rainee gave us a tour of the main school building. The place amounted to around 30,000 square metres and was composed of the usual facilities. Libraries, lecture halls, and cafeteria included. As a modern academy, the place is also kept relatively up-to-date. Access to certain perimeters is available solely through keycards ascribed to students, and a wide variety of digital screens adorn walls when necessary. All in all, not bad. Certainly, not as technologically advanced as Alpha One, but sufficient for a backwater mountain.

Before I knew it, we found ourselves walking through a long corridor, bumping into a few stray students here and there. There, I caught wind of a few noticeable glances towards my direction. No doubt revelling in my presence and glamour.

"Oh".

After another minute of walking, we stop. I take the opportunity to look around, watching a signboard to our left titled 'Room 04'.

"All right, um, we're going to stop here". Rainee says.

"Alright!" Guillaume yells, patting Morgana and me on the back. "Me and Althaiez here are going to catch up while you two youngsters enjoy yourselves, alright?"

Tragic. And so I must bid my dear butler farewell.

“Will do, Guillaume; I’ll try my best to make the most out of it.”

“Your tone is unconvincing, Lucius.”

No comment. Refusing to respond to Morgana’s remark, I promptly push the door to my left open. I run my eyes around the place. The sight is that of a classroom. Large enough to amass a hundred students or so with chairs arranged in a circular formation. More than anything, the place resembles facilities made for higher education. Like a university lecture hall. Multiple levels of seats and desks and a ceiling of five metres tall included. I don’t reckon normal high schools have such large classrooms. Though I suppose, on the other hand, the place is only fitting for one of my calibre.

Oh, and there are a few other students here. That, too.

In fact, one of them is looking in my direction. Pretty intently, might I add. On closer introspection, it appears to be some kind of elf. With long blonde hair down to their shoulders, a feminine face, and some kind of leather armour. Peculiar. From the way he sits with both feet on the desk, I can tell he’s a delinquent. Better not associate with him. Don’t know what type of disease you’ll get from these people.

Walking around, I settle on an empty outer seat in the first row. In the meantime, Morgana almost explicitly sits at the polar end of the room and finds herself a place alone.

Whatever.

I look at my phone and check the stock market. Noticing a familiar green number, a smile creeps on my face. Good, Mortius corporation’s share prices have risen by 1250 laines today, which means my net worth is now…

“ARGH!”

WHAT THE FUCK!

Processing the situation, I rub the side of my head with one hand and hold out my arm with another. Something just hit me. That is to say, a very fast shape appeared in my vision for an instant, struck me in the side of my head, and has left me currently wailing in agony.

Dammit all.

Glancing at the floor, I see a shapely black object. Naturally, I bend over and pick it up. Which, upon doing so, makes me understand it’s a pencil. And that someone in this room threw it at me as an attack.

Frantically, I dart my head from side to side, looking for who did it. There are three possible assailants. That delinquent elf, some dude with unkempt black hair, and a girl currently looking in my direction.

“OI, WHICH ONE OF YOU THREW THIS PENCIL AT ME?” I yell loud enough to surround the whole hall. “I’M CALLING THE POLICE. DO YOU NOT KNOW THIS IS ASSAULT?!”

The elf boy's eyes widen in surprise. “It was her,” he states, casually pointing at the girl across.

She smiles at me and points to the elf. “It was him, actually”.

He shakes his head vigorously. “Nuh-uh, that’s a lie!”

“Unlike you forest dwellers, we Crilandese do not lie.”

“I saw you do it!”

At the same time, the boy with dishevelled black hair looks around.

“Is everything alright?”

The girl, wide-eyed, rests her chin on her hand. “Yes”. She replies almost gleefully. “Everything is quite fine. Our local knife-eared forest dweller decided to assault someone, but besides that, all is well.”

Monotone, the boy mumbles a quick, “I see.” Then, turning back to face his desk, promptly exits the conversation.

In other words, nothing has changed. The students here are far from cooperative, and no doubt one of them is full of colloquial garbage. It’s like trying to negotiate with monkeys.

“Fine,” I say, rubbing the side of my head.

If they won’t help, then I’ll figure this by myself.

I inhale a deep breath.

Logically, with the angle that the pencil struck me, the attack must’ve come from the right. However, the only students located from that angle are Morgana, the delinquent elf, and the dishevelled boy, thereby discounting the other girl.

Now, to tally off the remaining students.

It’s unlikely to be the dishevelled boy due to his impassive tone and the fact that no one accused him.

It’s unlikely to be Morgana because she’s not dumb enough to do something like this.

Therefore, chances are, it’s the dumbass delinquent elf who did this. An point bolstered further by his leather armour, thereby hinting at some degree of physicality and hence the ability to throw a pencil with increased accuracy.

Now the question is what I do with this information. And besides holding a lasting grudge, probably nothing. I’m not that vengeful. I spent all this time wanting to know who did it just to feel better about myself. That and placing some warranted distrust and distance between the delinquent and me for future reference.

I tuck the pencil in my pocket and sigh. Staring wearily at my desk, I wait for the time to pass, only to suddenly hear a door slam.

“Good morning, students!”

Glancing at the same door I entered through; I catch sight of a person—a man. Perhaps around 183cm in height. They appear to be wearing a purple jacket, white waistcoat, patterned black trousers and cravat. And on another note, they also happen to have some sort of outdated bowl cut. With bangs running to their eyebrows and some sort of quaint hair accessory adorned with it.

I scratch my chin in amusement. Admittedly, my knowledge of fashion outside Alpha-One is rudimentary at best. Still, it is a tad hard for me to imagine that man’s clothing as being customary. However, it may just be a culture shock. So, withholding further judgement, I turn my attention to the man’s movements.

Doing his job, the man (or assumed to be teacher) descends into the room. In doing so, he throws several pieces of paper in all directions, landing in a perfect pile on each student's desk. I pause and take the stack of papers. Reading the front, I notice the words ‘examination’ and proceed to count the number of pages. Twenty in total.

“Remember, no cheating!”

Upon distributing the papers, the same teacher ascends the room and, without pause, kicks the same door open and leaves. I groan half-heartedly at the display. Not in assumed frustration at the exam to come, but rather the idea that everything here might just be a lunatic.