Chapter 8: Merida Academy of General Studies

Once Dias was safely within the academy walls, Polly seemed to deflate, a visible wave of relief washing over her. This was, after all, her first assignment as a Guardian Officer, and her first time on active duty. Her earlier ferocity, it turned out, had been born more of nervous tension than true aggression.

Now, the harsh lines of her face softened, and she addressed Corneille with a newfound politeness. "Guardian Officers do not interfere in matters within the school grounds. My morning duties are thus concluded. Allow me to confirm, His Grace the Duke is dismissed at the fourteenth hour, is that correct?"

Corneille nodded. Male students at the Merida Academy of General Studies were required to arrive by the eighth hour. They attended three classes in the morning, followed by a lunch recess, and then one further class in the afternoon. After that, there were optional supplementary courses. Considering the limited duration of the transformation ointment, Dias had elected to forgo all supplementary courses, meaning he would be free to leave the academy after the fourteenth hour.

"Might I impose upon you for a small favor?" Corneille inquired.

"What is it you require?"

"I am to attend a gathering in the countryside. Without a male Guardian Officer, no public carriage will consent to transport me. I was hoping Mademoiselle Polly might be willing to accompany me. Naturally, I will compensate you for the overtime."

The Canid races were renowned throughout the Federation as the finest mercenaries. For sufficient coin, they were known to be both understanding and remarkably resilient. Thus, at the mere mention of payment, Polly’s demeanor immediately warmed.

"This gods-forsaken place is indeed thus," she said, shaking her head with a sigh. "A bizarre imbalance of genders, peculiar ethical codes, and even stranger regulations. I shall accompany you on your journey, Monsieur Corneille."

Meanwhile, on the other side of the academy gates, Anne Geneviève executed a graceful curtsy, her skirts whispering against the flagstones as she greeted Dias. Bolstered by the lingering courage Corneille’s presence had instilled, Dias managed a somewhat flustered, yet passably polite, return bow and a proper self-introduction.

"I trust Monsieur de Toledo is already aware," Anne began, her smile warm and welcoming, "that I have been appointed by the academy administration as your designated student companion." She affixed a small, six-pointed star emblem to her bodice. "Monsieur de Toledo, while the school grounds are generally secure, I would still advise you to remain within my sight as much as possible… unless, of course, you have other trusted companions here."

"Nay, I know no one here. I shall gladly defer to Mademoiselle Longueville’s guidance. Um, are you, perhaps, affiliated with the Men's Administration Bureau?"

Anne shook her head. "No, this is merely an intra-campus duty. You see," she gestured around them, "our academy has a rather… significant preponderance of 'light blue' over 'black.' And the majority of those in 'light blue' are also 'Oak Keepers,' which can, at times, create a certain… pressure… for our male students. If the male students become tense, the female students, in turn, also grow uneasy. This can lead to a situation where everyone keeps to themselves, with little to no interaction between the genders, which is contrary to the academy’s expressed wishes."

Dias nodded, understanding. The "light blue" and "black" Anne referred to were the colors of the Merida Academy of General Studies uniforms. The female students wore dresses, the primary color being a light blue, accented with white double-breasted buttons, the skirts falling demurely below the knee. Over this, they wore a short, open-fronted jacket – a bolero – that reached only to the midriff, also in a matching shade of blue.

The male students’ uniform consisted of a black coat and breeches, the coat similarly adorned with white double-breasted buttons. The sheer lack of creativity in the designs led one to suspect that the academy administration might have received certain… incentives… when awarding the uniform contract.

More peculiar still, both male and female students were required to wear bright, yellow-orange woolen stockings that reached up their calves, a non-negotiable and staunchly defended "tradition" of the academy.

"Oak Keepers" was the official designation for witches. All witches received their foundational education at the academy before deciding upon their specific career paths and delving into the exclusive magic of their chosen domains.

Dias glanced around. As Anne had said, the campus was a veritable ocean of light blue, with the black-clad male students appearing like scattered, solitary reefs. Each "reef" was surrounded by a multitude of "waves" – female students. His own situation, being accompanied by only a single female classmate, was indeed rather unusual.

As if sensing his thoughts, Anne smiled. "Rest assured, Monsieur de Toledo, even as a Longueville, it would be quite impossible for me to monopolize your company. Your designated group members have already been decided – they are, in fact, all individuals who were on your list of prospective marriage candidates. We have all been eagerly awaiting your arrival in the classroom, so that our group activities may commence."

She added, "Allow me to clarify: upon enrollment, all male students are assigned to a small group composed of several female students. This is intended to help the male students acclimate to the presence of their female counterparts, and, equally importantly, to help the female students gain a better understanding of males. Many of the young women here, prior to attending the academy, have had contact only with their own fathers. As a result, they often harbor… rather unrealistic fantasies and unfortunate prejudices concerning the male sex. The purpose of these groups is precisely to correct such misconceptions. Please be assured, all interactions within the groups are conducted in a rational and wholesome manner. And I, for my part, shall endeavor to ensure that your time here, Monsieur de Toledo, is filled with pleasant memories. This is not an act of pure altruism, I confess," she admitted with a charming candor, "as our interactions with our assigned male group members are, in fact, factored into our academic assessments. Now that you have arrived, Monsieur de Toledo, we may finally begin this particular coursework."

"My apologies for delaying your progress," Dias said, his voice low.

"Please, lift your head, Monsieur de Toledo. There is no need for apologies. You did not willfully shun us; it was an unfortunate illness that caused this inconvenience."

"Had my health permitted, I would have been here sooner," Dias murmured.

Anne guided Dias to the faculty office where he completed his enrollment procedures. Dias noted, with a growing sense of unease, that he had yet to see a single male member of the teaching staff. Indeed, casting his mind back, he realized that since his arrival in Waite, he had not encountered any men engaged in professions that involved public interaction.

"There is still some time before classes begin," Anne said. "Come with me, Monsieur de Toledo. I shall introduce you to your other group members and help you familiarize yourself with the classroom environment." She then offered a piece of advice. "I would suggest keeping your introduction brief. And when you speak, try not to look directly at the students below. Instead, fix your gaze upon a specific point somewhere in the classroom. Perhaps recall your most important person, your happiest memory. This should lend you courage."

Anne’s amiable demeanor and sincere advice greatly increased Dias’s regard for her. The last person to offer him such detailed, thoughtful guidance had been Corneille. He found himself unconsciously accepting all of Anne’s suggestions, allowing his own rhythm to fall into step with hers.

Anne smiled with an outward display of warmth, yet inwardly, a sliver of disdain touched her thoughts as she regarded the beautiful young man before her. If Dias de Toledo possessed any remaining value in the marriage market, beyond his ducal title, it was likely only as a package deal that included the formidable Pierre Corneille. Now, there is an intriguing man, she mused. To bind him to my own life… that would, I imagine, be a source of considerable amusement.

The tiered lecture hall held only three other male students. They glanced at Dias briefly, then resumed their conversation, showing no inclination to engage with him. Dias looked to Anne for an explanation.

"You are the object of their envy," Anne explained with a knowing smile.

Dias was bewildered. "But why? I have done nothing."

"Precisely because you have done nothing, and yet, the most outstanding female students in our class – nay, in the entire year – have been assigned to your group. Naturally, this incites their resentment."

"Monsieur de Toledo," Anne continued, her tone becoming more serious, "Waite operates under a set of societal norms vastly different from your own. Men here have shorter working lives. Upon graduation, they are strongly encouraged, indeed, expected, to marry and embrace the life of a husband. Consequently, their quality of life is largely determined by the capabilities and social standing of their wives. The most idyllic existence, naturally, is to be chosen by a 'woman of six-fold excellence' – one who excels in beauty, character, conversation, intellect, social position, and ability. Even here, within the walls of the academy, male students begin their search for such rare paragons, engaging in subtle, and sometimes not-so-subtle, rivalries for their attention."

"This may sound like boasting," she added with a slight inclination of her head, "but the most promising candidates for such 'six-fold excellence' in our current year are, almost without exception, concentrated within your group, Monsieur de Toledo. You have done nothing, yet you already possess the foundational relationship of 'prospective marriage candidate' with all of them. How could this not provoke envy?"

"Therefore," she concluded, "the other male students in this class will undoubtedly isolate you, disparage you, and exclude you. But please, do not be troubled. As long as you conduct yourself with propriety, Monsieur de Toledo, they are powerless against you. Their own value in the marriage market pales in comparison to yours."

"That is… a rather chilling assessment of affairs," Dias murmured, a shiver running down his spine despite the warmth of the room.

"It is precisely because I wish to be your friend, Monsieur de Toledo, that I speak these truths so plainly. Waite, I assure you, is no gentle paradise."

Dias was then introduced to the other members of his assigned group. Including Anne, his five prospective brides were all young women of impeccable appearance, refined speech, and distinguished family backgrounds. They welcomed him with an outward display of warmth and graciousness.

Before April 1st, Dias might have found the prospect of a school life surrounded by such beautiful young women utterly thrilling. Now, however, it all felt… flat, tasteless. Because, in his transformed state, she was more beautiful than any of his prospective brides. This stark reality made it difficult for him to muster any genuine romantic feeling towards them.

The bell chimed, signaling the start of class, and students settled into their seats. The form mistress entered the classroom and proceeded to introduce the new transfer student. Dias rose from his seat and descended the steps of the lecture hall to deliver his belated self-introduction.

Countless pairs of eyes, each holding a different, unreadable emotion, fixed upon him. His fragile heart throbbed with a dull ache. His legs felt weak, as if they might buckle beneath him. The very air before him seemed to congeal, forming a thick, suffocating barrier.

I must hold myself together, he told himself fiercely. If I falter here, if I shame myself, Pierre too will be looked down upon.

He recalled Anne’s advice, summoning the image of his most important person, his happiest moment. The two thoughts merged, coalescing into a vivid memory: Pierre, on his ninth birthday, sneaking him out of the city walls for a day of forbidden, exhilarating adventure.

A warmth spread from his heart, infusing his rigid limbs with a renewed vitality. He straightened his shoulders, his bearing becoming more confident, or perhaps it was merely a well-acted bravado, the carefully constructed facade of a Duke from a foreign land. From Anne’s perspective, however, this sudden surge of energy was undoubtedly the invigorating touch of mana.

A second Isabella Trastámara? Anne thought, a slow, calculating smile playing on her lips. Excellent. The coming days, it seems, will not be dull.