The Garden

"DRIIIN DRIINNN DRIIIIIIIII. CRASH!" I realized what had happened. "Oh no, I broke it. Damn." The ornate, small mechanical bird near my bed was now smashed on the floor.

"North, what happened?" my mother called. 

"Oh, that comes from your pocket money, young man!" 

"But, Mother..." 

"No 'buts.' Now put on your clothes and come downstairs for dinner. You wouldn't want to arrive late on your first day at school!" she said as she left the room.

I stood up, groggy from sleep, and walked slowly to my wardrobe to take out my uniform. The outfit began with a tailored waistcoat crafted from rich, textured fabrics like deep burgundy or forest green, adorned with intricate brass buttons that gleamed under the soft glow of gas lamps. Beneath it, students wore finely pressed, high-collared white shirts with ruffled cuffs, adding an air of sophistication.

Boys wore fitted, slightly cropped trousers that showcased polished leather lace-up boots, both practical and stylish. For girls, a knee-length pleated skirt in a complementary colour flowed gracefully, often layered with lace or ruffles at the hem. 

Boys and girls donned long, fitted coats with high collars embellished with pockets and gears as decorative elements, reflecting the steampunk style to complete the look. Accessories were key at The Garden; students sported stylish hats—top hats for boys and elegant bonnets for girls—each adorned with feathers or small mechanical gadgets, adding a whimsical touch.

Cascading scarves or cravats in muted earth tones provided warmth and character, while leather gloves protected against the chill of the sea wind. 

Overall, it was a cool-looking uniform. Trust me, wearing something like this is far better than the monochrome uniforms we had in kindergarten; I hated those.

After a quick shower and getting dressed, I trotted downstairs for breakfast with my parents. Today, Stiri was planning to make a traditional English breakfast, something I had suggested because, unfortunately, the mighty British Empire hadn't reached our shores. What a shame—no tea at 5 p.m. was slowly killing me.

"So, are you ready for your first day?" my father asked, his eyes still glued to the morning newspaper, the DryBay Post.

"Yes, Father, I don't fully understand this class division mentioned in the brochure."

"Well, they'll explain it better during the inauguration ceremony today. You first get assigned a class based on your awakening result, and then every month, through a points and strength system, you can advance to a higher class or get demoted to a lower one."

That seemed stressful. I imagined it would be like an arena system from those fantasy novels, where people constantly challenge you to steal your place; it would be horrible, tiring, and wasteful.

After enjoying a delicious English breakfast—thank the King—I walked outside to head to school. Luckily, it was near my home, so my parents let me walk there alone. I know I'm only six years old, but it would have been embarrassing to have my mother weep in front of everyone just because her baby boy was leaving the nest. So, I opted for walking alone.

As I strolled down the bustling main road that cut through the heart of the city, vibrant storefronts and the chatter of pedestrians surrounded me. Suddenly, my attention was drawn to a small boy, his face streaked with fear, sprinting ahead with desperate urgency. Hot on his heels were two imposing figures, clad in dark jackets and exuding an air of menace that screamed "gangster." Their footsteps pounded the pavement like a drum, closing in fast.

Just when I thought the boy was cornered, a sudden blur of motion intercepted their advance. A shadow erupted from the crowd, swiftly swatting away one of the men's outstretched hands. The air was tense as a fierce, defiant voice cut through the chaos. "What in the world are you two chasing a small boy down the main street? Don't you have any shame as adults?" The words rang out like a clarion call, bold and unwavering, instilling a momentary sense of hope in the small child.

I moved closer to the crowd because I was curious about the commotion. I soon recognized the speaker as George Nivios. He was the same person who had embarrassed himself just days before when he walked away from the crowd with his face red from shame. I remembered him saying something about "transmigrator privilege" with a bitter tone. Despite his earlier troubles, he was gathering ether now. The strange shadow at his feet showed he had gained some power, which he could only achieve with etheric energy.

-"Kid, mind your own business; a snobby brat like you has nothing to interfere with; we could get you and sell to repay his father's debt if you want to help"-

I could see George shaking with fury, ready to respond, but he knew he was powerless against the two brutes before him. Knowing I was already late, I wanted the situation to resolve swiftly, so I whispered behind the back of one of the adults watching, "Look, isn't that the Nivios kid who just stood up to them? Are they going to kidnap a Nivios in broad daylight? They must be powerful."

As the two thugs leaned in, examining the kid more closely, their eyes narrowed with curiosity. They noticed his jet-black hair that shimmered slightly under the afternoon sun and the deep, dark pools of his eyes that seemed to hold secrets. For a moment, they entertained the thought that he might be a striking lookalike of someone they were familiar with. However, their scrutiny was soon redirected when they caught sight of the Nivios noble crest proudly affixed to the fabric of the kid's garment. Realizing who he was, they exchanged a quick, knowing glance filled with a mixture of recognition and fear before swiftly darting off in opposite directions, their plan thwarted.

With the departure of the thugs, the crowd of onlookers began to disperse, leaving me standing out in the open. George, glanced my way, his surprise evident in the way his eyes widened momentarily. Yet, just as quickly, his expression softened into a knowing smile. He turned his attention back to the small child he had just assisted, offering a few reassuring words and gentle encouragement. I resumed my path, making my way toward the school.

After a brisk 10-minute walk, I reached my destination: The Garden, a stunning and almost enchanting landmark. Its smooth white marble walls, streaked with hints of deep blue, gleamed under the city lights, reflecting the soft steam that filled the air. Delicate black iron patterns adorned the building, adding an element of mystery and history to its captivating facade.

Gracefully, multiple spires rose toward the sky, each topped with slowly turning orreries and mechanical sculptures that seemed to dance in harmony with the celestial rhythms. Large arches of cobalt glass linked the towers, capturing the glow from the city's portal energy and mirroring the shifting colours of the evening sky.

At the entrance, a pair of intricately designed black iron gates stood wide open, welcoming visitors to enter. These gates, adorned with elaborate patterns and silver accents, emitted a soft, otherworldly light. Nearby, tall walls punctuated by narrow, deep blue stained-glass windows bathed the marble façade in a gentle glow as dusk settled in. Below, quiet steam-powered mechanisms operated elegant street lamps that resembled blooming brass flowers, casting a warm and inviting light along the path. Dominating the skyline was the tallest tower, crowned with a rotating dial of rings and hanging orbs that appeared to keep a watchful eye over the city. After 10 minutes of walking, I arrived at my destination. The Garden stands out as a beautiful, almost magical landmark. Its smooth white marble walls, streaked with hints of deep blue, shine under the city lights and gently reflect the soft steam that fills the air. Delicate black iron patterns adorn the building, adding a touch of mystery and history to its appearance.

Multiple spires rise gracefully toward the sky, each topped with slowly turning orreries and mechanical sculptures that seem to mimic the rhythm of the stars. Large arches of cobalt glass connect the towers, capturing the glow from the city's portal energy and reflecting the changing colours of the sky.

A pair of finely wrought black iron gates stand open at the entrance, inviting visitors inside. These gates feature intricate designs with silver accents emitting subtle, otherworldly light. Nearby, tall walls punctuated by narrow, deep blue stained-glass windows gently illuminate the marble façade as dusk falls. Below, quiet steam-powered mechanisms power elegant street lamps that resemble blooming brass flowers, lighting the path with a warm, welcoming glow. Dominating the skyline is the tallest tower, crowned with a dial of rotating rings and hanging orbs that seem to watch over the city.