Social classes in Sexton

Ruelle stood among the tall trees of the forest, sunlight filtering through the leaves above. Beside her lay the trunk she had set down just moments ago. Her parents had abruptly dropped her off midway, leaving her alone.

Her father's words echoed in her mind, "Don't disappoint us."

Despite the crisp, fragrant air that enveloped her, Ruelle found it increasingly difficult to breathe. Each inhalation felt laboured, her anxious nerves constricting like vines around her chest now with uncertainty. 

Suddenly, the sound of wheels creaking against the forest floor broke through the quiet place, growing louder as a black carriage rumbled towards her. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she waved her hands, desperate for a ride. But the coachman paid her no mind, driving past with a detached indifference, while inside, a group of young women looked right through her, as if she didn't exist.

"Wait!" Ruelle called out to the next carriage rumbling by, her voice tinged with urgency. But it disappeared behind the trees, leaving her feeling abandoned. 

Worried, Ruelle fumbled for her pocket watch, her fingers trembling slightly as she checked the time. It was ten past five. She needed to be at Sexton by six—not a minute later. If not, she would be denied entry.

With no other choice before her, Ruelle grasped the handle of her trunk and pulled it down the winding path, chasing after the ghostly silhouette of the last carriage that had disappeared into the trees. Just as despair began to creep over her, another carriage appeared, its wheels creaking and rumbling. She caught sight of the trunks piled high atop the carriage. Not wanting to lose this chance, she dropped her trunk in the path and leaped into the road so that the coachman didn't miss her. 

"Woah, lady! Are you trying to get yourself killed or the poor horses!" The coachman's eyes widened in disbelief as the horses shifted after the reins were pulled. 

The coachman regarded Ruelle, noticing the trail left by her trunk on the forest floor. After a moment, he sighed, his expression softening. "Let's get your trunk tied on quickly."

Ruelle's heart lifted at his willingness to help, a warmth spreading through her as she beamed up at him. "Thank you very much!" she exclaimed, the gratitude brightening her voice.

Ruelle's eyes brightened at his kindness and she thanked him, "Thank you very much!" 

Once her luggage was securely fastened to the carriage, she climbed inside. Her gaze swept over the interior, landing on two young women around her age. Instantly, a frown creased her brow as she recognised one of them was Ms. Clifford, her expression one of clear distaste, as if the very sight of Ruelle sullied the carriage they shared.

"I paid you to arrive at Sexton, not to pick up strays!" Ms. Clifford scolded the coachman, her tone sharp and condescending. She cast a dismissive glance in Ruelle's direction. "Does she even have the money?"

"I do, Miss Clifford," Ruelle responded calmly, her voice steady. "And if you need it, I will be happy to share."

The young girl shot her a cold glare. With a haughty sniff, she replied, "As if your meagre money could suffice for my living. I should have taken a separate carriage!"

"I can drop you here for you to pick a better carriage if you want, milady," the coachman stated from the front. Ms. Clifford gritted her teeth, clearly irritated by the coachman's audacity, while the other girl snickered. 

Ruelle took the seat next to the other girl, who had short brunette hair tied up in two playful low ponytails. The girl smiled warmly at her. "Hello! I'm Hailey Elliot. First year?"

Ruelle nodded, returning her smile with one of her own, "Ruelle Belmont," she introduced herself. 

"Me too!" Hailey exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Are you thrilled? We'll be studying at this prestigious place! My distant aunt was once chosen to serve the queen. Although I don't know her personally, I'm hoping for something along those lines. What about you?"

Ruelle was here against her will. She replied, "To land a decent job, I guess." A job that might finally bring in enough money to help her family escape their struggles, which she believed was because of her.

"The only job you'll find here is that of a maid," Ms. Clifford interrupted, her voice dripping with disdain. "Do you really think it's easy to secure a position close to the elites?"

"You should aim for the princes or the other high-standing men, Ruelle. In this carriage, you seem more suitable," Hailey stated, already disliking Ms. Clifford, who rolled her eyes. Ignoring the grump, she said to Ruelle, "But I hear there's a series of tests and scores that one needs to reach before one is even considered." 

"You should try for it too, then," Ruelle encouraged sincerly. 

"I would have, but strangely, I've always dreamed of being a head maid. It's been my ambition!" Hailey replied, her tone thoughtful, and she laughed. Ruelle smiled, though a hint of confusion flickered in her eyes. She found it odd that Hailey would settle for such a position. Yet she found it admirable. 

By the time they arrived at Sexton, the sky had begun to change colour. Ruelle felt herself pressed against the window, her heart racing with a mixture of awe and apprehension, much like the others around her who were stepping into this place for the first time. The towering silhouette of the academy loomed ahead, its gothic architecture rising majestically against the vibrant twilight.

The buildings towered with multiple spires and countless windows, each casting a warm, golden glow from within. There was something hauntingly beautiful about the sight—a delicate balance of warmth and eeriness.

Ruelle was the first one to get down from the carriage and her heart had once again begun to beat faster. If Caroline were here, she would have shared her excitement with Hailey, she thought to herself. But she couldn't remove the sense of dread she felt right now. 

Ms. Clifford wasted no time in grabbing her bag, her eyes scanning the gathering crowd in search of individuals she deemed to be of higher status. Ruelle handed the coachman more than his intended fare, for bringing her here on time.

"Let me give you a tip before you leave," the coachman said, his voice low and gravely serious as he addressed the two young women. "If you find yourself at the bottom of the social ladder, you'll be bullied to death by the vampires. But if you aim too high, it won't just be the purebloods who threaten you—it'll be the humans who will bury you." He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle in the air between them.

"That's not very encouraging…" Hailey murmured, her excitement being pulled down a couple of notches. 

"I say this because there are a minimum of ten deaths every year at Sexton." The edge in his tone was sharp, making Ruelle's heart quicken. 

"What should we do then?" Ruelle asked the coachman quickly. 

The coachman advised, "Don't provoke the elites. Don't soar too high or too low. Just enough to keep you alive and you might survive. You'll soon discover that it might have been better to stay home than to step foot in here."

This was something Ruelle already knew, but her name had been given and there was no taking it back. 

Before Ruelle could pose another question, the loud and clear toll of the tower bell reverberated through the air, leaving a slight echo that seemed to ripple with urgency. It was a summons, a clear call to enter the grand building and assemble with the others. With a polite bow towards the coachman, she turned on her heel and set off with Hailey.

The new students buzzed with excitement, their faces alight with anticipation, as if they could hardly wait to seize the first opportunity that Sexton would present. There were young men and women, whose ages ranged from sixteen to eighteen.

On their way, Ruelle's eyes fell on a person with a deep blue robe and silver mask that hid the person's face. She murmured, "Hm? There's a long time before Hallow arrives to be dressed like that. Isn't it?" She asked, doubting the dates. 

"A ball, perhaps?" Hailey questioned, who didn't know either. 

A vampire strode confidently through the corridor, stepping up onto the raised platform. He appeared no older than forty, his striking red eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity. His brown hair was impeccably styled, combed neatly to the side, exuding an air of meticulousness. Clad in dark blue and grey trousers paired with a tailored vest, he finished his attire with a white knotted cravat that spoke of elegance and authority.

When everyone had gathered before him, the vampire paused for a brief moment, assessing the assembly with an unwavering gaze.

"I am Edmond Mortis, and I will be in charge of you," he announced, his voice steady and commanding. His face was as impassive as stone, yet his sharp eyes flickered across the crowd, taking in each young face before him.

"As you know, Sexton has welcomed humans of unknown backgrounds this year, bringing in seventy-two students."

"The academy is divided into three classes," Mr. Mortis continued, his tone deliberate as he outlined the stark hierarchy. "First, we have the Elites—pureblooded vampires of the highest standing and the highest ranking humans' children. Next are the Halfbloods—the humans turned into vampires, carrying both the weight of our lineage and their former lives. Lastly, we have the Groundlings—that is, you humans," he finished, his gaze lingering on them as if to emphasise their place at the bottom of the hierarchy.

Ruelle and the other humans around her could already feel the heavy difference and the prejudice that were right around the corner, waiting to hammer on them. As beautiful as the place appeared, wrapped in elegance and wealth, she could only imagine what was to happen and a shiver of anxiety crawled up her spine.

A young girl from a reputed family raised her hand, her expression that of a self-assured know-it-all. "Mr. Mortis, when will we receive our masks and robes?"

"Aren't those masks reserved for the elites?" Someone in the crowd interrupted, confusion rippling through the murmurs. "The robes are different for the two top classes."

The mask was part of the uniform? Ruelle asked herself. Why wear a mask at all? Unless… It was easy to commit crimes and not know who was the one who caused them, she thought to herself.

"Do we get robes too?" another student asked eagerly. The student's eyes sparkled with anticipation, as if the prospect of free garments was the highlight of their day. This only showed the poverty they came from, which had some of them look at the person in disdain. 

"I don't recall giving any of you permission to speak," Mr. Mortis stated, a sharp edge to his voice that quickly silenced the room. "To put it bluntly, humans don't deserve masks. Simply because you lack any abilities, and two, because you aren't the elite. The masks are each of the pureblooded vampire's signatures. If you wish to have the black robes of the Halfbloods, then you must prove yourself worthy of being changed. Elevate yourself to the next class, not just within Sexton but in the grand hierarchy of the world." 

Ruelle glanced around at the crowd surrounding her—there were many eager faces from a better background than hers, while there were some who were repulsed by the idea of turning into something they despised. 

A guard stepped forward, and handed a parchment to Mr. Mortis. 

"I will call out each of your names and your assigned roommates," Mr. Mortis declared, his tone firm and authoritative. He began to read aloud, his voice ringing through the tense gathering. "Groundling Faith Ritter with Althea Silverstone, Halfblood. Groundling Peter Atkinson with Lazslo Cobb, Elite. Groundling Austin Rhyes with Konrad Williams, Groundling..."

As he continued to read, Ruelle felt a sense of realisation washing over her. Sexton had chosen to mix all three classes. A wave of unease rippled through the crowd, and she observed the pale faces of some students whose names had been called. 

Ruelle held onto a flicker of hope that she would be assigned to a room with Hailey, but her heart sank as the names continued to be called. "Groundling Hailey Elliot with Blake Stellaris, Elite."

She was going to room with a vampire? Ruelle thought. In that moment, she was unsure whom to pray to for a favourable outcome.

Then, Ms. Clifford's name appeared as Mr. Mortis announced, "Groundling June Clifford," and there was a proud smile on the young lady's face as she straightened her back, a peacock flaunting its feathers. 

"With Ruelle Belmont."

"You must be joking…" Ruelle muttered under her breath, finding it unbelievable that they were going to share a room. Across the room, June Clifford's expression darkened, her lips pressed against each other before cursing under her breath. 

Mr. Mortis finished reading the remaining names. As the last name echoed in the air, he instructed everyone to follow him to the dining room, where the seniors and teachers awaited them. The passageways were wide and grand, illuminated by flickering candles and chandeliers that hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow that felt both inviting and intimidating.

With every step forward, Ruelle's foot turned heavier than the last as she dragged herself. 

Finally, they arrived at the imposing wooden doors, intricately carved with twisting vines. Ruelle moved slowly, falling almost to the back of the group, her heart pounding as she neared the entrance. When she stepped inside, she caught sight of the four long tables, each clearly designated for the various classes and the teachers.

A young girl right behind Ruelle looked terrified at the sight of the several red eyes on her and her ankle twisted. And as she fell, she also stumbled against Ruelle, who lost her balance for a moment, but one of the elites caught her in time.

"Are you alright?" asked a bright voice belonging to a young man as he released her. Though his face remained hidden behind a golden mask, Ruelle noticed his tousled, dirty blond hair catching the light.

"I—I am, thank you very much. I was certain I was going to plant my face on the carpet today!" Ruelle nervously blurted out, a shaky smile spreading across her lips. As she glanced to the side, she caught the gaze of another elite at the table—his darker red eyes piercing at her. 

"That would have been horrible!" he replied, a playful tone in his voice. "Nothing should be plastered except for paint or tiles."

"I didn't know vampires could be nice," Ruelle retorted before she could think better of it. A fleeting thought crossed her mind—Maybe he was just a human elite? But the rich red of his eyes quickly dispelled that notion. 

The person suddenly pushed his mask upward, revealing his face and asking, "Is that so?" and Ruelle shook her head.

"Vampires in Sexton are so much nicer than outside," she hoped, her heart racing as memories of the coachman's warning flickered in her mind. She had to behave nice and not make enemies here. She leaned in and whispered, "I recently encountered this arrogant vampire in the market who acted as if he owned the world and only added to my problems. He was dreadful!"

And as if on cue, the other elite, who had been watching her intently, casually pulled his mask slightly down, as if to adjust it. Ruelle's mouth fell open in disbelief. This was the same vampire she had encountered in the market—the one she had just badmouthed without a second thought.

His piercing glare locked onto hers, an unmistakable mix of annoyance and recognition. Oh no… she thought to herself.