Apple IV

"I welcome you all to Demach!" The director's voice boomed through the largest auditorium in the Academy. A middle-aged man of small stature, he stood like a child in front of the line of instructors behind him. As he delivered his words, his tone caught attention without being domineering, his air trustworthy without the need to implore.

Seated at the second row in the pew, Apple's eyes kept darting behind her, searching for one particular golden-haired student. A sea of faces stared back at her. The auditorium was packed. It was difficult to pinpoint him, especially that his smell was non-existent.

"Since it's your first day, we have prepared a feast! Let us get to know each other. Your seniors will be joining you as well in the Morning Garden. Just one rule: Don't trample the flowers. Tallow would kill me."

The Morning Garden was nestled in the very center of Demach such that to the west loomed the tall spire of Bibliotheca, behind it a view of the Royal Keep; to the east the Henge Fields, the pool and the training grounds; to the north the professors' marble offices, and to the south the auditoriums and the dormitories. The garden displayed an impressive expanse of white flowers: daisies, lilies of the valley, snowdrops, pale roses, magnolias, and laces. Most of them were brought in from other parts of the world: the less-trodden corners of Araya, the nearby Scarlet Isles, the famed continent of Handilen and places cartographers had not heard of.

"This is the obsession of one Professor Tallow," a sophomore by the name of Quain had taken it upon himself to approach them. "She collects white flowers. She disappears every break. When you find a new species of white blossom here, then you'd know she's back."

"Why the white flowers though?" Apple inquired.

Quain turned to her, startled at her lack of use of any honorifics. He shrugged, "Who knows. Maybe it's her own kind of drug."

Most imposing of all was the stone behemoth that crouched at the very heart of the Morning Garden. It knelt on one leg like a knight swearing its oath to its liege. Its face cast to the ground; Apple could make out the shape of its closed eyelids. It was dressed in a carpet of moss embellished with white orchids that might or might not have been intentionally planted there. If it could stand, it would tower over the spire of the Bibliotheca.

"It's called the Guardian of Demach," Quain said when he caught her staring at it. "Legend says that when enemies breach the gate of the Academy, the Guardian will wake to crush them."

"I heard that before. Is it true though, can it come to life by itself?" Yuri asked, taking a sip of his juice.

"An artifact? A giant artifact?" Another student asked, zealous. She went by the name of Hannah of Copperhill. Yuri had saved her during the Henge Field Test. She had followed Yuri around since. She was a little timid, but Apple sniffed holy power inside her twice that of Yuri.

"No one had seen it rise before. It's not in any records either," Quain replied. "I just want to give you a heads up. You see those numbers on your chest?"

Next to her name, Apple's blue uniform had a small hexagonal emblem flashing a number pinned to it. An artifact. "Isn't it for tracking and attendance? It shows a number but why is it in the three-hundreds?"

"Yes, indeed. That's your rank among all students under the Ordination Course, not just in your class or in your year, hence the hundreds. But that ranking can change anytime starting from tomorrow. It's a little fun game that the Divine Ordination course plays but everyone takes it rather seriously, in order to stir up competition and learning. You can change your ranks depending on your merit and demerit points."

"So, a reward and punishment system? They seem to know how to motivate us."

"You can also steal the number from a high ranker by defeating them in a fair match."

Apple looked at Yuri's number which was 289, while hers was 290. I could easily take his number from him.

Sensing her malice, Yuri covered his pin. "Hey!"

The number flashing on Quain's was 48.

"You're among the top fifty. But you're just a sophomore," Yuri gawked.

"Oh," Quain blushed at the remark. "Don't be impressed. You should meet the top of my class then. He's currently third. Marco Vermilon. That man right there."

They followed his gaze to a column of white lilies where a lad of dark blond hair was passing by. He stopped for a moment to greet a freshman just a little bit shorter than him. As Marco Vermilon walked away, Apple recognised the freshman to be the root of her unrest. For a fleeting second, the look of his pained face in the curtain of petals occured to her memory. You're here. She felt her heart skip a beat.

Lucas caught her eye and waved at her with his injured hand. A black beret concealed most of his hair, although a few golden locks poked out over his eyes. So that's why I couldn't find you so easily.

Apple left her company without a word and crossed the plot of magnolias to come to him, while Quain shouted after her, "Watch the flowers!"

She carefully stepped on the edges and finally came face to face with him. He smelled of nothing — like the time she first met him, free of the demonic stench that came off of him inside the Henge Field. "You ran away. I couldn't even thank you."

"There was no need to, we're friends."

"Still, I'm really thankful."

He gave her a warm smile in response.

"So, is your hand well now?" It had been bandaged heavily that only the tip of his fingers peeked out. His good hand held a tall glass of juice which was nearly empty. "Did you get treatment?"

"It's alright. It's going to heal soon." He raised it and moved it around as if to prove his point.

"Why are you standing here all by yourself? Join us."

"Can I?"

She took his arm, surprised at how tender and cold his skin was. "They'll be glad to meet you. Just watch the magnolias." She tugged him along.

"The friend you were obsessing about," Yuri remarked, when they joined them. "Hi, I'm Yuri."

"I wasn't," Apple denied, her cheeks suddenly hot.

"Good day, my lords, my lady, I'm Lucas of Vermil. It's a pleasure to meet all of you." He pushed his beret lower, concealing his eyes and hair.

"I'm no lady," Hannah corrected him in her soft and countryside lilt. "I'm Hannah of Copperhill."

"Quain Foilsebay," the sophomore introduced, tapping Lucas lightly on the shoulder. "How did you get so injured pal?"

"It was during the Test with the cursed tumbleweed, my lord."

"That one? Nobody said someone was hurt so badly though."

"I'm alright, my lord. It wasn't too bad of an injury."

A palm that got pierced by a large vine and he passed it off as trifling as a bruise. Apple wondered what kind of wound Lucas considered serious.

"But why is there no number on your pin, Lucas? I know you're in an Ordination Class," Yuri asked. 

Apple glanced at the pin on his chest. It displayed nothing. 

"Professor Hilbury said I cannot enter the rankings yet since I don't have holy power. I believe I should be at the bottom last, but he did not feel the need to show it."

Quain said, "That makes no sense, why would he put you in Divine Ordination if you don't have holy power? How did you even get in?"

"Upon Professor Hilbury's recommendation, they've put me in Zayin class, my lord. He said my case is only probational."

"I remember now, you're the only student there. How peculiar," Quain looked at Lucas with interest. 

Can I even tell them that it was Lucas who defeated the tumbleweed? I don't know how he did it, but he certainly is hiding some cards up his sleeve.

"But you'll still be attending classes with us though?" Apple noticed that she was still holding his arm. She flinched way from him, embarrassed.

"He said I can sit with any class I want, but most of the time, I'll be helping him with his research."

"Great, you can always sit in with us in Aleph. Right?" She turned to her group for approval, but their faces did not look so inviting.

"I'll be right where you are," Lucas said.

As the western sky became dappled in orange and the sun disappeared behind the Bibliotheca, Apple and Lucas began to make their way to the dormitories. The room handed to her had decent furnishing: A bed, a desk, a closet, a breakfast table, a lamp, and a vanity mirror. As a commoner, she did not know what more to ask for. It did not feel so cramped, especially that she was alone.

"So how is it living on your own? I had to leave my father behind, but I'll still visit him outside Demach when I have leisure."

She found it Lucas's habit to stare up at the sky. The clouds that took on a gold and red hue stretched far into the horizon. He stared heavenward as though he was entranced by them. His eyes never left them as he replied, "I am used to living alone."

"Really? How about your parents? You still have family, don't you?"

He set his gaze down. "They thought it best I live apart."

Did they send him to labor? What did he mean?

"May I ask why?"

"It was... an arrangement that suited everyone. I'm a troublemaker, you see." His voice softened, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly.

She laughed at his humor. "Liar. You don't seem like it. Maybe you just stink."

"Do I?" He sniffed his underarm.

"No, you don't. You don't smell like anything at all," she said. 

The next morning on her way to her first class, Apple found Lucas right outside the auditorium doors. His beret sat low, shadowing his eyes. His uniform seemed tousled, the collar askew.

"Were you waiting for me?" Through the open door, she glimpsed the sharp glares of a few students.

He answered with a wry smile, "I don't think they want me inside there. I should go. Perhaps, I'll just meet you at lunch?"

"No. Stay, you said you can sit with whichever."

Yuri stepped out the door, scratching his head, "Diana kicked him out. She wanted to murder him."