Source here.
Dorms
Messy didn't even begin to describe move-in week.
First were the Ezharan students, pulled from the cities. Familiar faces were found, friends exchanged friends, fights were narrowly avoided, things like that when you had some one hundred-odd eccentric teenagers thrown into the accursed blender of public education. Moving in involved many parents, some older siblings, and at times, friends and lovers capturing rooms and dorms, inspecting beds and setting up desks and decorating their new territories, hauling in homes away from home, clogging hallways and common rooms.
Some were lonely, having only one or two others with them.
But there was one kid that nobody knew anything about. He walked in, had his train pass, had his ID, but nobody saw the ID. He had the tanned complexion of a Msdahl-nahrn or Sessenanian, and what quiet mutters he spat out sounded like a Talent-Singer from Msdahl-nahr, but that was the best conjecture anyone could gather. When move-in was done, he shut the door to his room. He didn't even share the room with anyone.
Over the next few days, the Ezharans mingled, stole into the theaters and recording studios, took over couches and canvases, sizing up each other's skills and personalities. It wasn't entirely that they were fully comfortable with new folks — no, they were still wary, as anyone meeting new people would be, but with how heated things could get, it usually just happened. From far too early in the morning to far too late in the night, there was always something happening, someone talking with someone else.
But still, nobody saw that kid who sounded like a Talent-Singer from Msdahl-nahr. Somehow, between room and bathroom, and he found everything he needed for subsistence, and no matter how fierce the knocking, he never left. Dragging him out seemed too rough, too...
They let him stay there
And soon, other students from other worlds so far apart started trickling in, where they would be absorbed into the chaos of the dorms. It was a good place to let loose, after all: pool, hot springs, cafeteria, empty sports fields, gym, all on campus, with an arcade and commercial district not far
There was one group that only a few of them knew, and as the days passed, it started to feel just a little uncertain.
Eiko stood at the doorway to the dorms. D'aillisioux said they'd just landed, that apparently, some mess-up with the flights got them delayed to the last possible flight that Friday, and now some mixup with the luggage, with Möngö trying to bring Darughachi along, with Vla'ir and Kurainos not quite used to how they were now, the fish tank with Cao...
Kasem snuggled next to his arm. "You know sailor's wives, Eiko?" he said.
"This sounds like the start to a terrible joke."
His beloved looked up at him. "Because it is."
Groaning, Eiko ran his fingers through his head. "Get it over with."
"What I mean is that this is just like them. You know, them waiting at the edge of the harbor for their beloved to return from God knows where. Every day, every night, praying that they come back..." Kasem sighed. "Except we're waiting for these idiots to come here."
"So we are." Eiko checked his phone. One AM. He could smell bread from Dolgae in the kitchen. He could imagine Jude in the darkness, still programming something, Miro still writing something, stopping to let himself dive into the abyssal waters of his mind. Somewhere else on the estate, Midnight Walker was probably out on his usual journey. Back in Suzurai, his sister was hopefully asleep.
He checked on her MPR status. She was either asleep and offline or hiding it by going invisible. One of the two.
"And..." Kasem let go of Eiko's arm. "Are... are we still... in a few years?"
Eiko nodded.
Above was the speck of a shooting star.
And below was the clopping sound of a horse. From around a corner came a lantern, a light, a familiar white mane and cloaked rider, dragging behind them a piece of luggage.
"Möngö!" Kasem said, waving. "Wait, how'd you—"
A stampede of luggage and legs came from around the corner, and then came the sights of strange clothes and appearances — Nitro's glow-in-the-dark vest, D'aillisioux's gleaming blade, the glimmering bones of Eliza, the gold of Marcus, the reflection of Barry's mirror. All manner of lights and delights, of surreal and fantastical beauties, all the key parts of a horde of Apprentices. All they were missing was a fantastical flourish, but that sort of majesty wouldn't be here.
"We're here!" Nitro said as the horde came to a stop. "Only a day and almost a half late, but..." He stopped to catch his breath, glaring at several of the other Apprentices. "We're here."
"Should we even move in now?" Eliza asked. "We're not exactly... quiet, even if we have our own area."
Eiko looked inside. Not too many others were awake. "I'm sure it'll work out."
Ada, carrying a cocktail shaker, was first in with her luggage. "If it comes down to, I can make a couple brews to get us through the night."
"By the way," Kasem asked, "how'd Möngö fit the horse in the metro?"
Guðrún, her eyes shielded in her hair with one hand throwing and spinning a moon-like ball; Grímnismál, his crown in his fingers; Hálogi, his orange mane like a fire in the night; and Marcus, hidden among them. When he saw Kasem, he smirked and flashed a trio of golden coins.
"Bribery," Ada said.
"It wasn't bribery," Nitro said, stepping aside to stand next to the door, watching the Apprentices trickle in. "Oh, by the way, Khoirutaans, can you accompany—"
Shurga raised his hand. "We're on it, Nitro."
Nitro turned to Eiko and glanced at Kasem. "Right, so, how bad of a menagerie do we have going here? Any fights, conflicts, anything of that sort I need my group to watch out for? Anything to remind me of my role in the world?" Exhaustion hung heavy over his eyes, which were only highlighted more by him staring at a tablet that hung from his neck. "You're still here, so I'm guessing you at least didn't fight with Kaz, yet?"
"We're on opposite ends of the dorms." He sighed. "I think they knew."
Eliza grabbed Nitro's arm. "Nitro, dear, you're going to sleep before you collapse. Besides, we have Saṃsṛ watching over us." She glanced at a boy in a hoodie, clearly younger than her, who had pale hair and a dull expression. At his side hung a pocket mirror.
"Fine, fine..."
"Wait, Nitro, I thought it was just the Apprentices and D'aillisioux?"
He laughed. "Unfortunately, news spread fast and we needed a few chaperones, and a couple others are here but not dorming." A few unfamiliar faces passed them by. "You haven't met them, and you might not. Frankly, I'm impressed Leonardo could fit all of us."
"They're trying to get their money's worth from the renovations and all. Speaking of, how much was tui—"
A quintet of older teens passed them by, led by a boy with purple hair and a metallic-looking mask. "Depends on what you mean by tuition." His voice was raspy and deadpan. The amount of sad boys was becoming noticeable, but Eiko didn't say anything else.
"For the most part, it wasn't too much, relative to our incomes," he said. "Most of us donated extra. Plus teachers. My sister is guest-lecturing in the business department on managing her resort, actually. I don't know why they accepted her."
Nitro shrugged. "There's your answer."
Eiko waited for the unknown boy to leave. "Who was he?"
"Oh, just a member of a gang."
Kasem nervously laughed. "Gang?"
"Sorry. That's what it's always translated as, but they're harmless. Probably. Usually." A few others passed by them. "Look, just keep to yourself and they won't bother you."
One of them — a girl with pink hair — turned to them. "Yea, do keep to yourselves, femboy."
"Lyuha," the purple-haired boy said, "please don't call people you just met femboys..."
"Yell the song from your dream! The monster's song that you alway sing... it hasn't disappeared yet, and so I end up humming it."
11:50 AM, May 7, Dorms
Yedder rolled awake and checked his phone.
He hated to admit it, but it had been exciting to see so many Talents and others like him. If only he had the courage to talk to any of them, but even standing near them was nerve-wracking enough. There was this presence around all of them. Even sleepy Dolgae, the way his wandering eyes looked about ready to fall asleep wherever he was standing or walking or sitting, even he felt two seconds from giving Yedder an annoyed glare.
So he stayed in his room, lurking in MPR channels, trying to see if anyone would go through the math to figure out who he was, but nobody did it, or at least, not in the public channels. Maybe the Journalists were doing it in their own MPR? He couldn't tell, but for the entire time he was in his dorms, nobody knocked on his door to ask. Food and drink consisted of packets of beghrir and khlii throughout the day, plus some cereal and cold water. He brought couscous, too, but there was no way he was going to the kitchen when the Carême twins and that weird girl with lilac hair or Dolgae were there the entire time.
But he really, really wanted to go out. Sometimes, he'd put his ear to his door and just listen to the other Msdal-nahrn Talents murmuring, and he'd imagine going out there and... and what would he do?
Thinking of all that, it took a while before Yedder registered the time.
"I'm late!"
He sprang out of bed, tripping over the sheets, which he kicked aside as he fumbled open his luggage to take out some clothes. Five minutes later, he was sprinting through the empty dorms, leaping from stair to stair, and then out the front door onto his bike. Locked, and of course, he didn't even have the keys.
"Ugh!" He sprinted back upstairs, fumbled open doors, and ripped his bike lock's key out of his luggage.
Finally, he was biking on the empty dorm path towards the metro station. Down the slopes, between the crowds, towards the open metro door just high enough to fit him. Once in, he flopped right over onto an empty seat, panting.
And of course, everyone's eyes were on him and the doors shut.
"Someone's in a hurry," someone said.
Yedder grabbed his bike and hurried to the corner of the metro and shrank away, praying to himself that they'd just leave him alone, but all this running around would only make him more noticed, wouldn't it? But the other choice he had was to spend another second in someone else's baleful gaze.
Curled up, he shut everything out.
Minutes later, the metro came to a stop. When everyone had left, he rode out and up the slope.
In front of him were countless temporary tents and stands were two familiar forms. One was a shorter boy around his age, his brown hair swaying in the wind while his fingers fiddled with a black kubotan. The other was a young man whose presence oozed with barely-controlled violence, with a pistol in his pocket. Both were talking to a security guard of the same Msdahl-nahrn tan as them.
Yedder slipped close and leaned against a tree, but with a squeak of his bike, the younger turned, kubotan tight in his hand.
"Who're you?"
"Nakhla, more polite."
He turned to the young man. "I'm not fond of folks sneaking up on me—" Then back to Yedder. "Who are you?"
These were some of the last two that he ever wanted to meet. Even seeing them down the hall was enough to petrify him, because that aura of violence, the way it swirled around them, it terrified Yedder. He was used to being ignored, to having nobody's eyes on him— that much he could bear, but he felt like he was a minute from a crime scene when he was next to Nakhla.
"Al'ama, Nakhla, the kid's literally trembling."
No, no, don't see— don't hear— don't— just go back to—
"Sorry about my brother, uh... your name?"
Yedder swore that the man's hand was fumbling near his waist— was he going to pull out a gun?
"Y..."
"I can't hear you." His voice softened and he kneeled down, although with the distance between them, it looked more awkward than anything, so now they both looked like idiots and the last thing Yedder wanted to do was inconvenience someone else, but he'd already ruined that, hadn't he?
Maybe it was a mistake to have come, but...
Nakhla had started playing with a little music box. "When will the sealed door of my heart...
"Echo with the song of its sunny opening?"
Yedder slammed his hand over his mouth. He didn't mean to sing, but it was a familiar song. When he say the mournful smile of the boy in front of him, Yedder realized what he'd done.
"You're—"
He nodded.
"Sorry about earlier," he said, putting away the music box and approaching Yedder.
"As I've said, Nakhla, watch your tone and we'd have fewer problems."
"Watch your grades and I'll consider it with a decent role model." Nakhla was now right next to Yedder. "But I am really, really sorry about earlier. I didn't think you'd be this nervous in real life, considering how, well, cheery you sound. Never thought I'd get a snippet of a live performance though."
"Well... well it'll probably be the only little bit you'll get— there's no way I'm going up on stage."
"Didn't say you were." He stretched out his hand, and Yedder stared down at it. Nakhla smiled and crossed his arms. "Look, the ceremony's about to begin. Seeing as you're already a bit nervous... how about you sit with me and my brother?"
"Your brother?"
"Yea, the jerk over there is my brother, what about it?"
"Nakhla, I can hear you insulting me from over here. Try to be more discreet, would you?"
"How they ever hired you and your loud mouth for a sniper, I'll never know."
"How you're still a Talent with your snark, I'll also never know."
Nakhla rolled his eyes.
"Do you two..."
"Most of our relationship is formed on mutual insults, yes. Now come on." Nakhla turned around. "We're gonna miss the ceremony. Hope you like fireworks, by the way— the loudmouth insisted on bringing them."
When Nakhla got close to his brother, Yedder could've sworn that the elder's eyes and face were wrinkled with old fears and traumas, and that their hands touched for a moment too intentionally. The two of them... the violence surrounding them, Yedder had heard hints of it, but nothing much. Nothing concrete enough, and he decided that he preferred it that way.
12:00 PM, May 7, Sutter Basin
Darrel Halstead, Director of Leonardo K-12
Sutter Basin was a geological oddity. Two hills adorned with Ezharawood trees, with a smaller hill ne in their center, the place must've been some sort of ritual place, and yet, the museology and archaeology teams of old never found anything. In the end, it was fortune, for Sutter Basin became the site of Leonardo's many ceremonies: the small hill became a hidden backstage, laborers constructed winding chairs and paths of stone with rows and rows of seating, and the hills were terraced with stone and little garden boxes for the audience.
High school, university, even some general events, all were reliably hosted in Sutter Basin for more than a century. In time, it became the transition, the symbol, between the joyous youth to the focused adult years.
And today, that rule would still apply.
Darrel Halstead looked over the crates of fireworks. He had always called himself a man who could take on any challenge. Years in the Ezharan education system, dealing with the eccentricities of Talents and the wannabe Talents and the teachers had taught him as much, and his longevity as Leonardo's K-12 Director was his reward. Managing a few thousand students, transfers, and visitors from other cities were no easy task, but they were tasks he took on. So, when he heard that some faraway civilization wanted their share of the Ezharan experience, he had leapt to the suggestion, and when several of them started heaping donations on the Leonardo District, well, that only sweetened things.
Admissions, applications, arrangements of adolescents had all gone smoothly, or so he had been told, until he heard of the flight delay. That was outside his purview for once, so he could only hope that they'd make it in time for the introductions.
And then... reports began pouring in.
How did any of those individuals get accepted?
There were gang members apparently — or at least, they insisted to translate it as "gang" and then turned around to say "well it's more like a brotherhood." One kid claimed to be a trained assassin, like he'd believe that. Another brought a horse, which at least one person in the university sector brought her horse. Several tried to bring in weapons, ranging from axes to blades to guns to an artillery cannon, and he pretended not to hear, as technically, weaponry was allowed on an Ezharan plane with enough security. Whether they'd dare to bring them past their dorms...
Then again, the boy scouts carried guns and they had at least two trained snipers on the university campus, so maybe it wasn't too abnormal. Besides, most requests were for non-gun weapons, which he hoped were for martial art purposes. Part of him doubted it, but the kids at least weren't rowdy. Perhaps they were the sort that took a lot to piss off and go nuclear, rather than the sorts that would be easily swayed to violence.
But standing next to a Msdal-nahrn boy with masterful skill at pyrotechnics that he had entrusted with a few fireworks, Darrel figured that they couldn't be much worse. After all, none of them brought in explosives, and they weren't being trusted with events. If anything were to go wrong, it'd be the wrong that Darrel was used to, like the several times Hasan almost blew himself up, saved only by his friend in blue, Menos.
"Hasan," Menos said, "all of the fireworks are here, right?"
"Let's see!" He looked at the open crates. "We have our blue mines to start it off, the blue and white waterfalls with some multicolored falling leaves, multicolored palm trees, the golden crossettes at the end, and... well, hold on. Menos, hold my spot." He hopped on his bike, which had a basket in front. "I don't have my multi-breaks nor the crossettes, and if we're having something like this in the daytime, I think we'll need something more spectacular if it's wanting to be seen."
"Not like there's anyone else here." Menos looked to Darrel. "I'm pretty sure he pretends to forget just for surprises."
"That boy likes surprises a lot, doesn't he?"
Menos shrugged. "He's an adrenaline junky, honestly. Now, don't you have a speech to make?"
Darrel stared at Menos, and the boy looked away. "Sorry, sir."
"None taken." It wasn't an exchange meant to intimidate. Inasmuch as Ezharan youth enjoyed abundant freedom and independence, there were emotions that had to be expressed better and not simply thrown out. Still, Darrelhad to wonder why it was the younger regulating the elder's impulses and why they remained together in spite of everything.
Amina Al-Rashid, principal of Leonardo High, stepped in. She was dressed in her usual light turban and veil. "Darrel, most of the kids are here— where's Hasan?"
"Forgot his fireworks," Menos said. "Which really means he's bringing more."
"Do we at least have someone on the fireworks he left here?"
"Of course." Menos touched one of the crates. "He's impulsive and adds more to the show than anyone ever asks, but he's not stupid. The paid pyrotechnic guys will know their way around. Whether he'll be happy about it, well, that's not our concern right now." It was sort of known that this was a consequence of working with Hasan, that he'd always leave to get some exciting new firework.
But a Talent's impulses were not in Darrel's purview, and he turned to Amina. "Guess it's time."
He left for the stage. It'd be a quick and clean speech at least. The fireworks?
He'd have to see.
Kopi looked up at the stage, taking a sip of her mocha. Next to her was Tansacha, whose apron was still dirt-covered from garden work. He lazily poked the ground with his shovel.
"Kopi," he said, "you judging the work stains?"
"Yes."
He sighed and poked her with a trowel. "You really got nothing better to do, Kopi?"
"No, I'm just flirting with you."
He laughed. "Good god, woman, does everything have to be love?"
"It makes for a funny exchange." By now, Halstead had made his way to the center of the stage, while the other administrators — Kopi could recognize the three principals, plus the president of the university branch, the deans, and the estate manager — took seats behind him. "Oh, looks like we're about to get to speeches. Here's hoping he's not long-winded."
"From what I hear," Tansacha said, "he enjoys being concise. Not sure about the others, but he at least apparently always gets the primary speaking role just because he can do it faster than everyone else."
When he stopped walking, a single bugle's piercing cry rang from the orchestra pit in front and through the auditorium. Halstead nodded to the bugle player and looked out to the crowd, surveying the hundreds of students, and even from afar, Kopi could sense his surprise.
She hadn't expected this many people, either. The Ezharans, she estimated some one-hundred-plus, of course: about ten per capital, there were sixteen capitals, totaling to one-hundred-sixty theresabout. Those strange foreigners, the ones that had that air of ethereal fantasy about them, were something she had heard of, but that was it, and the other foreigners... well, they weren't too many.
Really, she was just here to use her free trimester and spice things up a bit.
Soon enough, Halstead was at the podium. His confusion turned to a smile.
"Friends, family. Students from distant lands and close to here, we welcome you all to our great institution here. I am the director of Leonardo's K-12 district, and I am pleased to see all of you, and just as excited to hear of what projects and collaborations will arise from all of our fateful meetings. The many individuals behind me are the other leadership who have been essential to the Leonardo Education District. They include..."
First up was a woman in a turban, a man with short black hair in a dress shirt and jacket, and a man in multicolored shawls. "Amina Al-Rashid, principal of Leonardo High. Vinh Bai, principal of Leonardo Intermediate. Amaru Mamani, principal of Leonardo Elementary." He paused for a second to let them sit down.
An older woman with faded auburn hair rose, alongside a younger lady. "Irene Durham, president of Leonardo University, and Battista Gouze, manager of the Leonardo Estate."
And finally, the deans.
First was a woman in a pink and blue hanbok, carrying a blue fan in her hand. "Kim Hye-Sok, dean for the Arts." Her serious expression conveyed no warmth, but there was a solemnity in it, like flowers blooming in mud.
A motherly woman who looked more like a housewife. "Anna Echazarreta, dean for Education and Social Work." She beamed as her name was called — a beautiful, earnest smile of a mother watching her children grow up.
Grumbling as he rose, a tanned, middle-aged man surveyed the crowd. His light cotton was adorned in black lines, as though he had written all over it. "Čemnouti Fanous, dean for the Humanities."
Taking off his yellow kalpak, another man rose and bowed with his hat in his hands. In the sun, gleams of light reflected from the metal cufflinks on his wrist. "Adil Arslan, dean for the Market."
A thin woman with pale hair and glasses. "Kythera Rhinehart, dean for Engineering and Technology."
"Nikolai Laennec..." The man that was called seemed slightly younger than expected. Rubbing his dark eyes, he sprang up when his name was called. "Dean for Life Sciences."
A well-groomed hair and mustache. "Harwell Brynjolfsson, dean for Physical sciences." Although he looked to be the oldest among them, he had more hair, facial and on his head, than some of the other men on stage.
And that was that.
"These are all of the leaders who have made Leonardo possible, but of course, those who uphold Leonardo's reputation, those who give back to the wider community with the skills they receive here, are you, the students. Henceforth, for these few months, no matter who you are — no matter what you've been through — these next few months will be in one of Ezhara's most diverse and welcoming communities. As the geographical, transportational, and political center of Ezhara, every city is wonderfully close." Behind him, Fanous covered his mouth, but the wrinkling of his eyes told that he was stifling a laugh. "And it is here that they mix and mingle. We here in the Leonardo District will do our best to support and aid you in this small scene of your life."
With that, he bowed slightly. A gentle applause rose, with the stranger section of the audience being the last to join it.
Next up was Durham, who smiled as she stepped to the podium. "We were expecting quite the crowd, but this is certainly more than we expected." She laughed a little to herself. "But as Halstead has said, we here are the center of Ezhara. While you may be here for the academics of Leonardo, I urge you to go out and explore the rest of Ezhara, whether that is in the dorm life, Woroshire, or the other regions — it's what the train pass is for. There's so much to learn and to live for outside this simple estate."
"Of course, before we adventure, we must have a good foundation, a home to return to. To acclimate new international students to the Leonardo District, our departments, both at the university and in the K-12, have volunteered their time, faculty, and current students, who will all be happy to introduce you to the work, research, art, and life of the Leonardo District. As you depart, please be sure to check with your program. They will be elated to get to know you." She nodded. "Thank you for your time, and we hope you'll enjoy your time at Leonardo."
The same gentle applause was, this time, drowned out by fireworks erupting behind the center stage — blue mines volleying up like a shotgun, blue and white waterfalls erupting from single dots into showers, while other fireworks scattered like leaves. Somewhere within the backstage, though, came a boy's yell.
"Hasan, your coat!"
"What!"
A speck of a blue missile carried something green. Something fabric, and something that wasn't supposed to be on it, and something that was incinerated as it erupted into blue, among other colors, into palm-tree-esque shapes. Finally came golden comets streaking up that shattered into more comets in twinkling bursts.
From the corners of the backstage, some could probably catch a glimpse of two boys walking out from there, one covered in ash and smoke.
