Machinist of Mana

“Everybody up!” came the cry on our first day of actual classes. “Headmaster has called an assembly of the students in half an hour. That means get in your uniforms and be ready for full inspection in fifteen minutes.”

I of course had no context for what 'full inspection' meant, but a wild guess told me that I needed my uniform properly on and hair combed, so I began to do just that as I rubbed sleep from my eyes. The speaker had been our resident senior Ollie, a whipish guy with small, but toned limbs and a sharp face.

As the last of us stumbled into the common area he looked around, before heading to Kilus, the boy in the dorm to the right side of mine and working on his buttons, which for some reason weren't quite right.

“Look guys I know you have no context for this, and no idea what any of this means. You haven't been taught a damn thing yet, but the Headmaster won't take that as an excuse. You're supposed to get corrections and booklets on how all of this is to be done but that comes literally today, after he's done talking to us. Had I known we'd be doing this now I'd have shown you some things, but such is life.” Our senior, Ryan, didn't seem thrilled.

“So?” I asked, displaying my uniform for him.

“Looks good,” he replied. “Good, good, it'll do,” he said to each of the other boys in turn. “Alright, I'm going to show you how to stand and march for these, try to get it right because we don't have time to practice.”

We quickly found ourselves out in the morning air, along with every other boy in the school, and headed into the main courtyard to stand. The older students in charge of the dorms were allowed, to a limited extent, to move around and correct people as we all got into place, for there was a proper place, and readied.

At some signal I missed we began to move, dorm by dorm, and year by year into the auditorium. There were no chairs, no seating for us, but rather assigned positions. Each group had to march into place as we'd been shown moments ago and to stand at attention towards the front.

The teachers were gathered there. Some, like Professor Killic, were in something akin to what one would see on a professor from Earth, others were in a military style uniform, not unlike our own. At the center of them all, overlooking everything as if it were mildly displeasing to him stood our Headmaster, eyes sharp as we came in.

Headmaster Logan was a mountain of man, with little hair atop his head, scars covering every bit of his face and a mustache that would have made a Kaiser proud. His face was set hard, eyes shining like diamonds in narrowed slits, his stance ramrod straight. He waited, watching, seeming to note each misstep, each infraction as we made our way to where we needed to be.

The Headmaster pulled a watch from his pocket, looking down with a frown before snapping it shut and turning his attention to us.

“Acceptable timing,” he said. “But one you can all do better on, will do better on. Some of you have not known discipline,” he added, eyes seeming to bore into each of us. “It is my solemn duty to correct this, to turn you boys into men that will make our nation proud. Each of you will learn, or continue to learn, to grow, to become iron and steel against our enemies. We, the people of the Penumbra Kingdom are without a doubt the greatest nation upon these lands, and I will not have any slouch destroy that legacy. None of you are ready yet, but you will be, you will grow into men to make us all proud. For now though, welcome to another year at my esteemed academy. Exit the way you came and head to your first class.”

After that short message we were all sent out, and as soon as we'd made it back outside everyone breathed out.

“That seemed pointless,” one of the other first years near me said.

“Because it wasn't for your lot you twit, not entirely,” Ryan answered the boy.

“He was inspecting you, and the other older students. Making sure you're not slacking around before classes?” I guessed, looking at our esteemed leader.

“Yeah, if I had to guess so.”

“Reckon you did alright?” asked Simon, another of our dorm's cadre.

“Better than some. I'm sure I'll know each and every mistake by dinner though,” the older boy griped. “As for your lot, you heard the Headmaster, off to your classes.”

Simon was also in my first class, knowing nobody else and having no seating chart he elected to sit beside me.

“This morning is going to be awful,” I groaned, since our professor hadn't made it in yet.

“Not get enough sleep?” he laughed.

“What did you eat for breakfast?” I retorted, since I'd slept fine.

“Oh, well shit.” It seemed that observation took the wind from his sails. Not a one of us had managed a morning meal, something we'd not noticed because of stress, but which would certainly be apparent before long.

I was right too. The first classes of any school were always devoted to teaching the rules and this one was no exception. While they didn't call it 'home room' the first class we had was everything but the name. The professor came in slightly after we'd gotten seated and began to run us all through the expectations and obligations we all had. None of it was too terrible, though apparently the Headmaster maintained strict discipline at any formal function.

By our second class the cracks in our student body were already starting to show. Few of us had missed any meals, and many were quite spoiled by their parents. Various boys were starting to mope or get in a slightly worse moon. When lunch finally rolled around a full quarter of the first years could be described by the southernism of 'hangry' and ready to lash out at anyone in their way. Knowing this didn't improve my own mood in the slightest, for I hated this kind of test-like nonsense.

It was clear to me that all of this had been planned. It would put stress on each of us, make us step out of line. The teachers could then use our misbehavior to quickly put us back in line, establishing an order and discipline even if it was all caused by their actions. Personally I highly doubted that they didn't know and plan this.

My suspicions were further confirmed when I saw lunch. Seldom had I seen such a pathetic plate of food. The portions were small, and it had a visible and distinct lack of meat. I wasn't the only one to notice either.

“Is this it?” one of the boys asked one of the women serving food.

“It is, the Headmaster set the menu for today, so if you've any complaints you may direct them to him,” she replied slightly nervously. I had no doubts that any such gripes would be seen as an excuse.

“If he does this for supper too there'll be a riot,” Kilus observed as he joined Simon and I.

“Or mass theft from the kitchens,” I added.

“What's our next class anyway?” Simon asked.

“Hand-to-hand combat,” I answered.