It was the same as it’d always been, every year— they filed in, and took their seats, and waited for the principal to get everything in order. A stage had been placed at the far end of the field, bordered by artistically trimmed pines brought out for this sole purpose, and that same old garishly blue curtain, and a new overabundance of flowers, spilling out off the platform’s edges in an artistic touch Lily couldn’t help but appreciate.

To Avyr, though, it was all new. He was excited, clearly— at first shuffling around and trying to get comfortable in a space that had very obviously not been built for his species, pushing up awkwardly against her— then, silent. The presentation hadn’t even started yet, and he was already almost unblinkingly focused on the stage in front of him.

It was kind of funny, actually. That, and the way that nobody sat in the seats in front of them. Chuckling, she shoved his shoulder lightly— the motion of course doing nothing but getting his attention. “Relax.” He just slow blinked at her, as though the thought had never crossed his mind. “It’s just the initiation ceremony. The Principal’s going to give a speech, and everyone’s going to pretend they care, and then they’ll divide us up into our class groups.”

“I hope I’m with you.”

“For every class?” She opened her mouth to say it was unlikely, then paused. “Well, it’s not impossible.” Their scholarly interests were a bit different, but not so different— and the academy’s curricula not so broad— that it was impossible they’d be assigned to many of the same classes. “We’ll share all the advanced track classes for sure, but the others? Who knows.”

The big cat huffed softly, faintly, annoyed. “I suppose we’ll see where things lay.” Then he went back to staring at the stage, because of course. Lily just rolled her eyes. She hadn’t expected anything… else…

She blinked, then rubbed at her eyes, then blinked again as the teachers filed out up onto the stage, the final year teachers leading as they always did— except. Except amongst them, fourth in line, which had to be a prestigious position of some sort, stood Mr. Leng, looking utterly bored by the pomp of it all. Except— that didn’t make—

Elegantly, she simply said— “what?

” If elegantly was defined to mean with strangled inelegance, of course.

Beside her, Avyr blinked slowly. “Mingtian is teaching?”

“He said he wouldn’t though!” She hunched as she got a few glances from the students around them, then, quieter— “he was passionate about it. It was… shortly before I met you, I think— he gave me a whole lecture about how every real formations master never sells their work.”

“Except he’s working for the school, now.” Avyr finished the thought for her with a quiet mewl. “Interesting. Are you sure he wouldn’t work for them, under any circumstance?”

“He wouldn’t—” except, he was, obviously. She paused, the bustled and anticipation of the starting speech fading around her as she softly, truly considered the implications of it. “He wouldn’t, unless he wasn’t selling his formations expertise. Unless… he said there was a difference, in selling for favors, and in selling formations knowledge for money. ”

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“If we grant that as true… it follows then that whatever he is getting in turn for teaching is not mere monetary payment, but something that any reasonable amount of money can’t buy. Something outside the monetary system.”

Lily blinked. That actually made a whole lot more sense. What could it be, though? It wasn’t like Mr. Leng had been at all unhappy with his job, content to stay on his salary and just help out—

The obvious answer hit her like a wrecking ball, and as she glanced at Avyr, it was clear he had the same thought. If it was true… she owed him more than she’d thought— and she’d already thought she owed him a great

deal.

Finally, after the last of the teachers ascended to the stage and took their seats, the Principal walked up and took his place at the center of the stage, waiting a second for a hush to fall over the crowd. “Ah. Hello.” He smiled wanly, nodding first to the teachers, then to them all, before continuing. “I’m glad that you’ve all managed to make it here today. This is the four hundred and fifth initiation ceremony of East Saffron’s 32nd Preparatory Academy, and the three thousand, six hundred, and twenty first year of East Saffron University’s beneficence.

“Those of you who have studied the great histories of our world will know that this is only a short time, compared to the eons that the honored Immortal Ascension cultivators live, and a shorter time still on the scale of the sects. But East Saffron University is not a sect. The University and its preparatory academies are mortal institutions, made by mortals, run by mortals. It is in this collective unity that we strive for progress, and in that progress that the very face of the realm has been transformed. Under the benevolence of our enlightened age, we stand uniquely prosperous…” and so on and so forth, spewing out things that every kid learnt before they even came to school in the first place.

At least Avyr looked somewhat interested? Though Lily wasn’t sure how much of that was because of what was actually being said, and how much of that was from the novelty of actually hearing a speech like this for the first time.

“…and narrowly escaping disaster in the penultimate great war, and surviving the burden of the last war—” her expression soured a little bit at just exactly what that implied, as she was sure all the other orphans did likewise— “we now further that burden of excellence onto the next generation, and so burden them with the weight of the future. May you all reach out to excellence, for the glory and honor of East Saffron and the Bloody Saffron Sect.” He bowed, and the stadium erupted into cheers, students of all ages swept up in the dramatic end of the speech. Lilly just rolled her eyes, Avyr chirping with soft laughter beside her. It hadn’t even been that good of an end, either— but like throwing a dog a bone, just saying that something was for the glory and honor of the sect or whatever was practically guaranteed to get a reaction.

Lily supposed she could understand. If anything, she was at the very crux of that— one of the few people who stood a chance of actually progressing towards joining the sect for real, and not just as a principal or councillor or whatever other city position that might nominally be affiliated with the sect.

The crowd started to disperse them, slowly siphoned off by the instructors as they moved through their assigned years and one by one pulled groups of students. Avyr leaned towards her, looking a little amused. “How long do you think it’ll take until someone works up the nerve to take our group?”

Lily laughed. “I bet they’re going to wait until the end, and whichever unlucky sop has to deal with you is just going to have to deal.”

“No, no— I doubt they’ll let it get that far. But I think they will negotiate…” they argued amicably over that as they waited— only to find that both of them had been wrong. The final year instructors, instead of just picking large clumps like the others had, combed through the whole group, picking out specific students as they went. And, as it was, both of them were part of the group, so they’d actually ended up getting picked first. Definitely an upset to their predictions, that was for sure.

Herded into the bustling center of the stadium, a group of roughly thirty out of the four hundred or so final year students slowly coalesced. Lily had her suspicions when she saw Urmaphara was one of the students who’d been selected, but she became certain when she saw Guandong and Xinshi descend down to stand beside them, their mere presence commanding as much if not more space than Avyr got just from being spooky scary. She leaned over, whispering so as not to be overheard— “elites. This is the elite group.”