A few more minutes later…725Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡePCDqhZ773
The summit of the hill was an expansive plateau that softly descended further inland over an enchanting view of the sea with a coastline of pebble beaches reaching into the dark blue waves that must have convinced its first settlers to stay. There was a prestigious school mounted on the site of a former castle whose emblem of an ancient noble house had been reused. Displayed on its brick wall was a golden martlet on a plaque of silver that bore a motto in an ancient language and the name of it in modern verse: King Ælle College. Rushing through the front gates, the late students hurried into the grand campus, which featured a single gravel avenue leading to the main building, flanked by neatly trimmed trees and bushes that formed a lush evergreen corridor. The front facade faced the winter sun that projected a vibrant film of colours that painted its classical architecture that welcomed its students into its warm embrace, and as expected for a school of such affluence, the image of this particular institution would not be complete without training grounds for every known sport, churches and gardens, and snobbishly posh students. Arminius and Colt sprinted indoors through a pair of twin doors and slowed themselves when they entered the reception, hounded by a lone lady receptionist who gave them a stern look before they picked up their pace once more, finding themselves in a crowded hallway that led out in three directions despite the homeroom bell having rung already. Eventually finding their way through the currents of bodies, the pair slipped into another hallway and made their way past their fleeting junior schoolmates bisected by the rays of light piercing through the great aisle windows under the watchful gaze of romantic oil paintings of sceneries and kings before coming around to their classroom. Its doors were wide open, and their classmates were, as usual, being unruly, but when they entered the room, they were hit with a cry of victory.
“Eat shit, Ed! I told ya they won’t be late on a Wenesol!” A foul-mouthed student yelled out and spat all over his friend as he plucked his winnings from Ed’s fingers.
Holding onto his face, shaking his head, Edmund sighed even though the wager should not have bothered him as much as it did. “I am starting to have my suspicions that you’re colluding with one another.” The upper-class boy fussed over the loss of his pocket change.
They were bunched up in a corner of their classroom where most troublemakers gathered, and the pair that they wagered coin on to be late walked separate paths to reach their friends, hoping to be able to pass some time before their teacher arrived.
Raising an eyebrow with a slight chuckle, Arminius swung around his desk and set his schoolbag on the ground. “You should’ve known not to play with him, Ed. He must’ve bribed Lady Luck.” He reminded him of his past defeats, but he was suddenly interrupted by the easily excitable Easterner.
“There ain’t no way, Al! Is that the new pocket phone?” Colt snatched it off another one of his friend’s hands without asking for his permission.
Letting out a small yelp when his new device was carelessly taken out of his hands, Albert reached for it, but it was already being passed around their group, so all he could do then was to wait for it to be returned to him.
Inspecting every function on the miniature keyboard beneath the digital screen, Albert’s friend was speechless at the limitless possibilities that a machine like this could offer. “How much was it?” Arminius enquired, already wondering whether or not he would have to fight the queues to purchase one.
After his pocket phone had been returned to him safely, Albert scanned it for any scratches that may have occurred on the screen. “Five hundred crowns. But they’re not on the market yet. Not for the common folk at least…” He shyly told them.
“Hey, Richmund, do ya think you could ask your pops?” The troublemaker Edward nudged their wealthiest friend, planning to use him for his connections again.
Sighing, Edmund turned ahead when he heard footsteps approach their classroom at last. “I’ll see what I can do.” He let out a scoff, but he smirked when he did so, appearing in agreement.
Arminius noticed their teacher walking into their classroom, and he braced himself behind his chair. “All rise!” Being the representative of his class, he commanded his classmates.
The sound of chairs screeching and clothing rustling filled the air as students jumped off their tables and rose from their seats. In order, starkly different from a moment ago, they stood to attention. “Ei biding jü ene finnër sol, Hist Rust! (Good morning, Mister Rust!)” Together, the twenty students greeted their tutor with false passion in the Alber dialect.
He was a stern man in his fifties, with a hunched back and the gait of a military man, effortlessly carrying a mountainous pad of notes and textbooks in one hand, which he gently set down on his desk at the front of the class before taking his seat. “At ease.” Rust waved his hand at his class, who did not know it, but he had already finished his headcount.
His students sat down and unpacked their pencils and books before they adhered themselves to chatter again as Rust placed down his pen and swept a pile of paper into his hand. When he stood up, the class realised that they were finally going to receive results from the exams they had taken at the start of the term, and their voices gradually subsided. Before long, all twenty sets of papers had been handed out, and their grades, inked in red, however low or high, were revealed for friends and classmates to compare and laugh at. One knew that he need not compare himself with anyone apart from his friend and whistled for his attention, holding up his score for him to see: twenty-seven out of thirty. Arminius nonchalantly tossed his paper across the aisle, landing it beside Colt’s as their friends leaned in to see the results of their duel, but they could not hold in their laughter when they saw that his score was just one point higher than the Easterner’s. Burying his face into his hands, Colt wished that he could hide himself from the embarrassment as Edward shook him around, howling despite having scored the lowest in the class, but they soon quietened under the sound of chalk vigorously scratching on the blackboard at the bow of the classroom.
“Turn to page one hundred and eight.” Rust referred to his textbook as he commenced his class, scribbling down a series of numbers and equations, which quickly informed his students that they would first be punished by the bane of all schoolchildren: mathematics.
But some students had other plans for passing time. Edward, Edmund, and Colt sneakily retrieved their unassuming handheld machines, which had the power of a computer. When they opened them, each revealed a glass-like screen that displayed a video, impressively controlled by buttons on a panel beneath. Despite the distractions, Albert chose to concentrate on the lesson.
When his video game came alive, the foul-mouthed student frowned when he noticed that his wallet in his fictional world did not quite add up. “Did I forget?” Edward muttered to himself and leaned forward, tapping Arminius on his back. “Trade me four marks, will ya? I’ll pay ya back.” He whispered, keeping an eye on their teacher, who had yet to turn to his students.
Although he appeared unsure about whether or not he should join his friends in the mischief, the half-blood boy looked over his shoulder and agreed to his offer before he had time to think about his actions. “Uh… sure...” Arminius reached into his schoolbag and brought out his video game console, tangled in wires, and flicked open his screen, but when he did, its power switched on with a chime he had forgotten to silence.
In his tranquil classroom of weak whispers and rustling paper, it was as loud as an echo at night, and his classmates did not hesitate to turn around as quickly as they could as he slid his console into his schoolbag to hide the evidence, but it did not escape the hawk-like ears of their teacher, who spun around on his heel.
“Who was it?” Rust, with a stern face wrinkled in vexation, glared at the usual suspects as he asked his class.
Without hesitation, Arminius stood up, hoping that his honesty would protect his companions from their teacher's suspicion. “I, Hist Rust…” He answered.
Obediently, he remained still, but he flinched when an eraser flew across the room and hit his head with its wooden handle, leaving a reddish scratch on him. However, Arminius had endured worse. His friends were thankful that he burdened himself with the blame and slipped their electronic devices into their pockets.
“Arminius Reichner, you’ve earned yourself another detention.” Rust informed his class representative, although no one knew why he had not yet been stripped of his title. “If it weren’t for your grades, then we’d have tossed you out already.” He pointed at the student with a piece of chalk and warned him about the precarious situation he was in.
The class was intensely silent, and no one dared to whisper; however, Arminius understood that if he acted as unseemly as a villain, neither the principal nor the school board would take action against him because their primary concern was maintaining their prestigious results, of which he was key. Still, Arminius could not deny the guilty feeling for having caused so much trouble for his teachers ever since he joined the school two years ago. He sat down and began to scratch his pencil in his notebook.
Believing that he was quieter than the wind, one turned his head and stirred a conversation with a mouth that did not seem to be capable of ceasing. “Ed, you owe me ten crowns—” Colt reminded his friend about a wager with a smug expression, but he had forgotten that everyone could hear him.
“You too, Colt, if you’re so insistent.” Rust was chalking on the blackboard when he notified his second-best-scoring student with the same offer.
Colt whipped his head forward, stammering, but he could only roll his eyes, knowing that Rust was the least likely man to go back on his word as the classroom burst into sniggers. They returned to their schoolwork, no doubt whispering about the fiasco of their best-performing classmates and their apparent senselessness in everything apart from academics, while their teacher continued to fill his blackboard with numbers and annotations transformed from his stick of chalk. Arminius and Colt did not speak to anyone until lunch break. They swung on their chairs and bit the ends of their pencils, having just been humiliated, but this feeling was short-lived as the sun moved across the sky.725Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPhlFsa8xhp
725Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡi9I2pSkZEt
and then Add to home screen.