Control Comes from Within

A few days after the end-of-year ceremony, everyone who had been named during the ceremony, both the dunces and dedicated as the headmaster so eloquently put it, were called into the administration building to meet with the headmaster in his office. No reason was given, just a time and place to show up at.

All the dedicated students showed up early, patiently waiting outside the office for a while before the dunces arrived in one big clique, talking and laughing as they sauntered up the hallway.

Somehow they all wore looks of disdain…or contempt? Whatever it was, they were united in their viewpoint of looking down on the dedicated. It was an odd position for them to take, but those were the ways of the jealous. ‘If I can’t have it, it’s no longer valuable.’ Disguising envy with scorn, the tactic of somebody trying to have the last word in an argument and thus be right. The commoners among the group also had expressions matching that of the nobles, confirming my thought that their families were all associated with each other outside the academy.

Ignoring them, I tried to talk to the other students there with me to provide a distraction, and somewhat reluctantly, got to know the other ‘dedicated’ students. Everyone was polite enough, even if the nobles were a bit haughty. While my academic ability was enough to gain me some recognition, a lack of birthright prevented them from truly socializing with me.

All things being equal, I was fine with that.

The other commoners and I got along relatively well, and I had no problems fraternizing with them. The main topic of conversation were the upcoming ‘internships’, I guess you could call them. Everyone was looking forward to studying under the pros in their field of interest.

Except for one of the students, who had or would very soon receive a rare smithing material. I wasn’t that familiar with the crafting disciplines, outside of the basics covered in the intro to magic classes, but apparently the material he was awarded was extremely efficient when it came to dispersing essence, and he had tentative plans to incorporate it into a shield.

After everyone had assembled, the door to the headmaster’s office opened and we were all called in. The dunces went in first, and I and the other dedicated students followed behind them.

Entering the headmaster’s office, I felt like it gave off the feeling of low-key arrogance. Everything was subtle yet exquisite, to the point that even I could tell that everything was expensive without being gaudy. Even the size of the room was huge, large enough to fit a hundred people. The wall behind the headmaster’s desk was a single pane of glass, displaying a stunning view of the grounds beyond the academy, a large sprawling forest and a lake just before the horizon. Just like most of the other academy buildings, the floor and walls were opaque somehow, while the view was spectacular, a transparent window overlooking a natural vista.

Nothing was overtly screaming ‘Silence, you idiot and bow down before your superior’, but in conjunction with everything else, that was how the room made me feel. And, evidently, I was not the only one to have that feeling.

The room turned silent as I walked in, the dunces having been stifled by the room’s appearance. The headmaster was reviewing a stack of papers on his desk, the scratching of his quill the only audible sound in the room. After he finished, he set aside the papers, and took a look at everyone in front of him.

Sighing, he rubbed his temple as he asked, “Who was the last person to arrive? Anyone?”

We all wore confused expressions on our faces as we looked around, unsure of both the answer and the relevance of the question.

“I’ll answer for you, since all of you either don’t know or don’t care to tell me.” He consulted a metallic plate, which looked similar to the affinity board I had seen during my enrollment, before he continued. “Oh? In what I’m sure was a coincidence, every single student with poor performance came here at the same time. Together. And late.”

“Headmaster, we –”

“Quiet. I honestly don’t care,” he said, holding up a hand to stifle the one speaking. “Haaa, did none of you attend any etiquette lessons this year? Or did a member of the royal family somehow forget to impart to you the significance of showing up on time? Wasn’t there a saying she taught you in class? Young lord Everett, you should know what I’m referring to.” the headmaster said, looking at one of the students.

Nodding his head, he replied, “Yes, headmaster. Arch-, ahem, Lady Degrachaff taught us the phrase I believe you’re describing. ‘Being early means you’re on time, and being on time means you’re late, and being late is unacceptable.’ It was meant to describe how wasting another person’s time is considered rude, as you are indirectly showing that your time is more valuable than theirs, as they are unable to proceed in your absence.”

Everett was one of the two people who scored above me, and I could see why. While I understood the lesson as well, I wouldn’t have been able to summarize it as succinctly or fluently.

Well, that and I was somewhat average when it came to history and geography. The unfamiliar names and terms took a while for me to get used to.

The headmaster nodded, proceeding with his speech. “So, for blatantly showing up with no respect for my time, all those who arrived late will have twenty points deducted. And do not even think of complaining! Perhaps your behavior will improve after your winter lessons.”

And just like that, the dunces were handed the schedules for their remedial lessons, which would be held over winter break. One by one, they all received their schedules, endured a personalized rant from the headmaster, and were then sent on their way. Some held back tears, some failed to hold them back, and some were stoic and unflinching, taking the reproach without comment. But one thing was certain:

There were no smirks of disdain anymore.

After the troublesome half of the students left, the atmosphere of the room lightened up a bit, the headmaster muttering to himself about bad seeds and leaning back in his chair, relaxing much more.

“Sigh, now that that’s done with, I can move on to the better part of today’s meeting: apprenticeships.”

With a much kinder tone, the headmaster, whose name I only learned at that very moment, via his nameplate, was V. Leywinlook, handed each of us our own schedules for our apprenticeships. The last two months of winter were designated as the academy’s only vacation, with most students free to do as they wished, either returning to their homes, or staying at the academy.

While the bottom and top scorers were both made to stay behind for the break, the dunces had to attend remedial lessons, while us dedicated were able to ‘apprentice’ under select experts. It was giving us early exposure to subjects that could potentially be covered later on, depending on our choices.

Yep, the second year of the academy let us choose elective classes depending on our interests. The headmaster only mentioned it briefly before moving on.

The pros we would be learning from were either alumni of the academy or instructors in other academies. It was explained to us as having a one-on-one class with a guest lecturer, which I was fine with, or a two-on-one in my case, as I was meant to learn from a pair of tamers.

After being given our schedules and having a few minor questions answered, we were dismissed from the headmaster’s office and returned to our dorms – barracks, they’re called barracks here.

Shaking my head, I thought about the situation a bit.

The only reason I was looking up taming in the library was to see whether the taming spell could mutate somehow, as it did for me with the beast space, and if it had ever happened before. To my disappointment, I never found anything beside the most common methods of taming and the types of bonds one could have with their tamed. And while that was somewhat useful, it didn’t shed any light on the unique situation I found myself in. Nor did I believe that asking pro tamers about it would be helpful, outside of exposing one of my secrets and landing me in trouble.

So yeah, this ‘apprenticeship’ under a couple of tamers was effectively a waste of time for me.

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“I swear, the academy’s letting in too many lowborns nowadays!”

“Shut up, Paedro, your father’s only a count, what do you know? I’m the one who got slapped on the first day! And I didn’t even do anything wrong!”

“Fyor, you lower the intelligence of everyone around you when you talk. Just be glad we’re only taking remedial lessons and not…correction lessons.”

The nobles and their entourage of subordinate lowborns were walking back to the barracks, arguing about who had it worst in their group and whether or not complaining to their parents would accomplish anything.

Well, the nobles were discussing the issue loudly. The commoners following behind them were the sons and daughters of servants in the noble’s households. The agenda devised by the nobles was for the commoners to branch out and make connections with other people outside of their usual social circle, but that idea was derailed immediately as soon as the noble heirs accompanying them were given a speck of control, freed from the watchful eyes of their parents, as they threatened or coerced the commoner students into essentially acting as their lackeys, running errands for them or other, in the eyes of the nobles, ‘minor’ tasks.

That these minor tasks made the commoners’ academic performance decline was a non-issue. Why would it matter to the next generation of noble lords and ladies if their followers were doing poorly? If anything, it was a good thing for them, as it kept the lowborn in their place where they belonged: below the nobles.

When in public, the commoners acted as their noble ‘employers’ demanded, wearing haughty expressions or acting however they were told to, but in private, they were exhausted, running around doing various laborious jobs, getting pocket money for the nobles, or desperately trying to salvage their gradually worsening academic life.

It didn’t help that the academy turned a blind eye to the situation, as the commoners never asked for help, and the staff had their own reasons for not getting involved.

“You, what’s your name, again?” One of the nobles turned around and pointed at one of the group’s female followers randomly. The person being pointed at quickly curtsied and said, “My name is Ulna, my lord.”

Nodding, the noble said, “Huh, Ulna, what kind of name is that? Actually, forget it, I don’t care that much. From now on, you have a new job. Come to my barracks after dinner tonight and I’ll tell you about it.”

“Yes, my lord.” she said, her posture still deferential as she retreated to the group of commoners.

The nobles laughed amongst themselves as they continued walking, while the few commoner girls next to Ulna held her hands surreptitiously, discreetly trying to comfort her as she held back tears, desperately hoping that she wouldn’t be made to do something irreversible.

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“It’s disgusting. We can at least all acknowledge that point, right?”

The headmaster and every senior member of staff, along with the heads of every department and a certain archduchess, were gathered in a conference room to discuss the problem that never seemed to go away:

Entitlement. More specifically, the entitlement of the noble students.

And the royal cousin was making her thoughts on the matter quite clear.

“I refuse to believe that my esteemed colleagues have not addressed or at least deliberated on this issue before. How can such rampant… vanity and conceit proliferate in these glorious halls?” Lady Olyn said, her voice rife with anger.

“As you know, Lady Olyn, this is a delicate matter. While everyone, commoner or noble, has basic rights, the upper class has always viewed their…privileges…as innate as their rights,” the headmaster claimed, rubbing his face in exasperation.

This issue was a constant thorn in the side of every academy since its inception: how to enforce decent behavior among noble students when there were no consequences for their egregious actions.

“We can’t simply ban it outright?” one instructor asked.

“It wouldn’t work. Eventually, those brats would complain to their parents and leave the academies altogether. They might accept it for a time, but they’d make a fuss doing so. I can already hear them clamoring. ‘Nobles have rights as well! What’s wrong with a noble making requests of their household staff? They’re always free to ignore any requests they’re not capable of doing.’ Pfft, as if those children have any say in how they’re treated. It’s disgraceful.” one of the female department heads shouted.

“We could refuse to admit nobles altogether for a certain time period. See how that affects them.” another staff member proposed.

“No.” The headmaster dismissed it immediately. “The founders made a vow when they created the academies that nobody would be forbidden from enrolling due to their status. I do not intend to be the first to break the spirit of that vow.”

The will of the founders was not something to take lightly. The teacher who proposed it flushed and apologized for his indiscreet remark.

The headmaster continued, “We also can’t raise the fees for select students, as that would also constitute discrimination, nor can we purposefully lower their scores, although quite frankly, they seem to have no troubles doing that on their own.”

“So you’re saying even if I approached the king directly–” Lady Olyn said.

“His Majesty could create a law forbidding the mistreatment of commoners tomorrow, and the only result would be nobles protesting, refusing to comply or, Mother forbid, retaliating.”

The headmaster pushed on, “All the academies have tried different solutions throughout the years. Separating the commoners from the nobles. Staggering their classes so they don’t interact often. Mild punishment. Someone had the inspired idea to raise taxes for those brats’ parents, and he was released from service the next day, as he should have been. The academy was meant to be a place free of the politics and environment of the outside. You all know the combat classes start from the second year until the fourth, and the training grounds are full of opportunities for those little–” he stopped himself before he could cross the line.

Silence reigned over the room for a few seconds as they all tried to come up with any viable solution on how to solve this problem, or at least reduce the frequency at which it happened.

If this continued, commoners in general would see a decline in both performance and enrollment, ultimately going against the wishes of the original founders of the academy.

In the worst case scenario, the academy or the entire city could be attacked by a monster horde, and yet another rule would be added to the Commandments, that list of rules to abide by unless one wanted to see the inside of a vorander’s mouth up close.

“Is it…maybe if…” one voice muttered.

The owner of the voice, a teacher’s assistant, was looking at the floor, his head in his hands, hunched over, whispering to himself. His neighbors stared at him until he suddenly stood up, grasping the large circular table in front of all of them.

“Headmaster! I have an idea I think might work!” he said.

“Alright, get on with it, man. Wait…who are you?”

“I just recalled something that I think could be applied to this situation! Imagine this, you’re on the battlefield, your comrades are either dying or fighting for their lives against the enemy, leaving you alone to deal with whatever is coming for you. You’re outnumbered, outmatched, fatigued. You wouldn’t go down without a fight, would you? This battle is lost, and everyone knows it. But you would surely do your absolute best to take as many of those savages with you to the Mother’s Embrace!” he exclaimed at the top of his voice.

“What are you even talking about, man?”

“Self-sacrifice. Giving your life for a worthy cause.”

The room, which had a few whispering among themselves, now became silent.

“You’re not asking us to die, are you, lad?” the headmaster asked jokingly.

“Ah, no, forgive me, headmaster. I only meant that we have been looking at this from the wrong point of view. Instead of thinking of how to make them stop, we should have been thinking about not giving them the opportunity in the first place.” the assistant head replied.

“So, your solution is…” the headmaster prompted.

“We stop taking in donations. If that fails, then we stop enrolling students entirely.”

His declaration was met with silence, followed by scornful laughter, then quiet murmuring.

Donations made up more than 70% of the academies’ budgets, so a proposition to stop accepting them was…nothing short of financial suicide.

“Let me see if I have this right.” the headmaster said, massaging his forehead. “What was your name, lad?”

“Ah, sorry, headmaster. I’m Quis Levidna. You’ve…probably heard of my mother.” he said, turning a bit embarassed at the end, his face turning red as he said it.

“You’re Ynta’s son?” he cried out, eyebrows jumping up in shock. “How –, no, never mind, we can talk about that later. Just, explain your plan to me – I mean, us, but this time with more details.” the headmaster waved him on, urging him to proceed.

And so the staff listened as they heard the young assistant explain his plan with slightly more details.

As they heard more and more of his speech, which they initially ridiculed internally as absurd, they gradually became convinced of the feasibility of his plan.

“And you said this idea was inspired by a student?” another department head asked him.

“Yes. I recalled a certain answer to one exam question that stuck out to me due to how…incongruous it was.”

“Well, at the very least, we’ve made some progress, exploring new avenues. I’m willing to try it, just to see a couple of those old foxes squirm,” the headmaster chuckled. “We’ll reconvene in a week’s time. For now, you’re all dismissed. Keep thinking of possible ideas in the meanwhile.”

It was only the second meeting of the day, but the headmaster’s headache had already returned.

Thinking of the potential cut to his revenue stream did not alleviate it.