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Morning dawned slowly over the mythic mountain fortress-city of Sevan with its floating bridges and delicately suspended city districts. Above the hush of waking streets and the perfumed airs of the gardens and the great river itself sounded the call to prayer, interwoven with the soft tolling of Orthodox church bells. It was a time of quiet beginnings, of a new day. Things were calm and still even at the impressive halls of the Rrazmakan Akademia near the heart of the city, through the arch bearing the university motto "Honor virutis preamium"—"Honor is the reward of virtue".
At least, quiet for about a minute.
"Mina, let it go! Take the hand offered. You know it was not meant," a male student said, grabbing his fellow by the shoulder. The Arusai girl's gray eyes were narrowed, her fingers touching blood from her lip. Looking at her was the nervous figure of another young woman, darker skinned like the average Nalayan, her hand outstretched.
"I am sorry, I did not—"
The Arusai slapped away the hand and spit blood onto the stones. "I will not forget this, k'ats!" she hissed, shoulders squared for a fight.
"The catfight is over, ladies," a voice barked sharply. Dressed in a black uniform, the grim figure of Khajag Vratsyan advanced on the scene. "Petrosian, get that lip cleaned up! You're supposed to be handling new arrivals! Do I have to do everything myself?"
"On it, Himnakan," Mina said, heels clicking together as if on reflex. She dabbed at her lip again with murder in her eyes. Later, when she was free of duties, there would be a settling of scores.
If Sevan was calm, it was only because of the Akademia. The unified front Nalaya presented to the world was a thin veneer of civility layered over fierce loyalties, tribal mind sets, rigid honor codes, ethnic and religious tension, and old grudges. Anahid Vaneni had worked a miracle in creating Nalaya, in blending cultures together and forging a nation unified despite its fractured past. But the work was far from finished, a delicate balance maintained only with difficulty. And yet, a spirit of optimism prevailed here: the old rivalries slowly faded into irrelevance as students worked together and struggled to excel, slowly replaced by military camaraderie and mutual respect.
Khajag frowned. "I expect better from you, Petrosian," he boomed. "It won't happen again while you have duties, will it?"
"No, Himnakan," she said stonily, looking straight at the beautifully groomed grounds of the Academy, resembling perfectly maintained forest more than a neat lawn, albeit one with stone paths meandering pleasantly through it. The Akademia itself was built into the side of the mountain, a smooth stone front decorated with delicate arches and carefully trimmed climbing vines.
This was what their new foreign students would see at the gates, their introduction to the Nalayan world.
