Mireille never expected to make it all the way to the principal's office on day one. Granted, she didn't wholly discount the possibility of it happening. In her mind, it was still higher in chance than precipitation, but she could never have predicted it to occur as a result of being assigned a new class.

For that reason, Mireille was happy to let events unfold. Just moments ago, she'd believed that she would be forking over what little money she had with her to complete an expensive return trip home. The issue of a new class to settle into was immaterial. She had no familiar faces to be torn away from.

Having been directed to complete this group meeting in such a stately office, Mireille was taking all the opportunity she could to admire the endless rows of portraits covering the walls. Intriguingly, there was precious little space left. She wondered what the conversation regarding who they eventually had to hook down first sounded like.

“. . . Classmates? So that's all it is. Hey, Principal, you gotta not make it sound like you're about to boot us back outside. It's bad for our hearts, you know?”

In a carefree voice, the girl with the rack admonished The Silver Aurelia, whose response was a solemn look of apology. It probably spoke volumes about them both.

“My apologies, Miss Holtsen. I didn't intend to make it sound so calamitous.”

She wasn't sitting behind her desk, but had remained standing in the centre of the room. She was the principal, but faced her students with ramrod courtesy. The girl with the rack broke into a breezy grin.

“Well, it's alright. Not like the world would've ended even if we were sent back. And as for the thing, Coco and I don't mind.”

“I see. That's certainly a relief . . . Is this true, Coco?”

“Affirmative.”

The little girl with the red Alice band nodded. With an expression as blasé as a solid brick wall, she didn't look like she particularly minded about anything whatsoever.

Seeing it was her time to chime in, Mireille broke her ceaseless act of nosing around and offered a cheerful smile.

“I'm fine as well. To be honest, being in any class is good. I didn't even expect to make it this far. I really thought I was about to head back onto the train, so um, feel free to drop me anywhere!”

“Thank you, Miss Kloeter. Your . . . stark honesty is appreciated . . . if unnecessary.”

Allowing herself to appear relieved, Principal Priscelia then turned to the rogue element within this room.

“None of these students are present are in my class,” said the blonde girl bluntly.

“They are. In your new class. And you'll start with the introductions. Do I need to remind you of how to conduct proper etiquette, Yuela? You should be leading the greetings.”

The blonde girl, Yuela, shivered as though struck by a shard of ice rolling down her neck. It was difficult to tell whether it was due to the principal's remarks or the thought of carrying them out.

With all the enthusiasm of a well bucket, she faced the three other students beside her.

“. . . My name is Yuela Vlinder. There has been an error of seismic proportions, and we will certainly not remain in this new 'class' together. Regardless, I wish you well for the year ahead.”

That wasn't an introduction. It was a farewell.

“I'm Tabitha,” said the girl with the rack, at ease with taking Yuela's hostility in her stride. “Tabitha Holtsen. All witch. All bewitching. And all natural. But with a delicate and feminine side. I'm looking forward to getting this academy thing started!”

Mireille found her respect for Tabitha Holtsen starting at a stratospheric level.

Such an audacious and daring introduction. To combat this bold manoeuvring within the prickly realm of first impressions, she could only offer hers with maximum power.

She breathed in and scrunched up her fists against her chest.

“My name is Mireille Kloeter! I'm pleased to meet you! You can rely on me for the year ahead!”

Success!

Tabitha nodded and gave a thumbs-up. Yuela was busy having a staring contest with the principal as they telepathically exchanged pleas.

Following that instant, a peaceful calm entered the room as everyone waited for the remaining participant in this unexpected gathering to speak. Apparently, having a spotlight on a harmless looking girl with the stature of a small animal was remarkably soothing for general atmosphere.

Principal Priscelia coughed, then shot a telling glance between Yuela and the girl.

“Haaaaaaah . . .”

Once again tossing any semblance of a pleasant façade out the window, Yuela delivered a sigh to the far reaches of the universe.

Then, she willed herself to look down at the source of the sudden calm, entirely out of obligation.

“Little girl, what's your name?”

“Coco.”

Coco's eyes nonchalantly met Yuela's.

“And your last name?”

“Coco.”

“What? Which one is it?”

“Coco.”

“. . . . . .”

“. . . . . . ?”

“I don't understand. Do you mean to say that's your first name or your last name? Or is it both?”

“Coco.”

“You're not making sense. Why are you repeating 'Coco'?”

“Coco.”

Yuela shivered. This time, it wasn't just her body. But her very soul.

Tabitha laughed. She placed her hand on top of Coco's head, who sunk half an inch.

“Alright, alright, Missy,” she said, gently rubbing her head. “Answer her properly now.”

“Understood. Coco has no registered name. 'Coco' is Coco's assigned moniker.”

Yuela turned her sight squarely on Tabitha. Since she and Coco appeared to at least be acquainted, Yuela unilaterally designated Tabitha to be the smaller girl's spokesperson.

“How old is Coco? Is she truly a student here?”

“Why don't you ask her?” replied Tabitha cheerfully.

Yuela looked like she wanted to do anything but.

Still, she returned her attention to Coco, who was still staring with utter indifference back at her.

“Coco . . . does that academy uniform belong to you?”

“Affirmative.”

“I see. May I inquire as to how old you are?”

“Coco is younger than you.”

Yuela bit her lips.

“Yes . . . Yes, I know you're younger than me . . . Excuse me, but do you really think I'm old enough to be troubled by that?”

“Affirmative.”

Tabitha took the opportunity to squish Coco's head with just a little bit more force than necessary.

“Now, now. Answer her properly. Before the stressed looking lady explodes.”

Coco nodded.

“Coco is thirteen.”

“. . . Principal Priscelia!”

“Yes, Yuela, is something the matter?”

There was no outward change in the principal's rigidly attentive appearance, but her voice was tinged with the faintest onset of fatigue. Yuela did not hesitate to press on on.

“Principal . . . she is four years younger than us!”

“Your meaning?”

“Thirteen is clearly too young!”

“Oh? The academy has accepted younger.”

“In wartime. Berylcross has been at peace for over thirty years. Enrolling her would be unprecedented . . . You cannot accept a thirteen year old girl at the academy!”

“I cannot?”

The principal's eyebrows rose inquisitively, but there was no consternation in her expression. Rather, she appeared to be in good spirits. She was undoubtedly expecting this reaction.

“Oh dear, Yuela. Impertinence from such a refined young lady? I know you have good contacts, but please do be mindful. You also have no need to remind me how long Berylcross has enjoyed peace for. I was at that particular ceremony, after all. And all the inconvenience before that.”

A shade of scarlet assaulted Yuela's cheeks. She glanced at the floor.

“That's not what I . . . My apologies, Principal Priscelia.”

“Don't be. These questions need to be asked. Really, I think I'd be mortified if you didn't.”

Yuela met Principal Priscelia's warm smile, then returned to appraising Coco's small figure. The little girl not only lacked the tall staff Tabitha wielded, but carried no visible armaments of any kind.

“A witch adept?” asked Yuela quietly.

“Naturally. As is Tabitha,” said Principal Priscelia. “They came as a pair. Quite the bargain.”

Tabitha snuck in a peace sign. Yuela ignored it. Her concern appeared to be wholly centred on Coco.

“I see. She must have talent to be picked out at such a young age.”

Whether deliberate or otherwise, Yuela's voice became unnaturally steady, as if refusing to give her feelings away. She failed.

“Talent does her a disservice. You need not be concerned about her aptitude.”

“The academy board would need to give special dispensation.”

“And they have . . . Otherwise she would not be wearing that uniform.”

Suddenly, Principal Priscelia answered in a manner that would broker no argument. It was the same formal tone she'd used during the auditorium speech.

This one matter, at least, was now temporarily closed.

“Very well,” said Yuela, her voice even quieter than before. “What is the meaning behind this new class?”

The principal's cheeks hollowed as her smile hardened.

“Much to the delight of the faculty, a small number of additional students have enrolled at a considerably late stage. I believe you may be personally acquainted with some of them, Yuela.”

Yuela frowned. It wasn't directed at the principal, but was aimed at the door, towards the academy as a whole.

“. . . Prospective students should show more respect for the enrolment procedure.”

“Which is why I've always been fond of you.”

“May I inquire as to why these . . . late enrollers were not placed in a new class?”

“Because we were delighted to accept them in their preferred classes of choice. We were delighted to do so even with the class structures organised well in advance. And we were delighted to move existing students with whom we'd assigned by grade as a result.”

Mireille crossed her arms. She felt a little chilly.

“Classrooms are carefully designed,” continued Principal Priscelia. “And while it would not be unthinkable to accommodate a small number of outlying students, an excellent opportunity has arisen which would make that the second preferred choice. Why, you may even feel thankful to the latecomers.”

“Sounds good,” said Tabitha, her demeanour in total contrast to Yuela's sombreness. “What's the opportunity about?”

“Yes, Principal Priscelia . . . please tell me what makes it so 'excellent'?”

“Because your instructor is Olivia Barinette, a highly accomplished individual in her own right. She was not due to begin a formal teaching role at this academy, but following the unexpected arrival of additional students, I personally convinced her at very short notice to head a new class.”

Yuela, apparently comfortable to wear her frown for the remainder of the session, directed it squarely at the well-meaning principal before her.

“I've never heard of this . . . Olivia Barinette. Is she a knight? With which Chapter?”

Principal Priscelia floated an overly lovely, charming smile. Mireille had seen a girl with wavy, blonde hair conjure something similarly bogus early in the morning.

“Oh dear, Yuela. That information is not prudent.”

It was prudent.

It was so prudent that Yuela's mouth fell open in disbelief for the second time in short succession.

“The four of you compose this year's intake of the academy's scholarship students. You have, between you, accumulated some of the highest scores the entry examination has seen in recent years. Since we have certain expectations of you, I believe the best way to further your academic potential is to separate you into a focused learning environment.”

Mireille blinked.

Then proceeded to say and do absolutely nothing.

“Scholarship . . . ?” Yuela's eyes widened. as if only just realising what a scholarship entailed. “I accepted the scholarship as an additional merit, not to be separated into an experimental new class.”

“Uwah, accepted a scholarship as a merit?” said Tabitha as she hugged her staff. “Wow, that's amazing! Talk about rich girls' panties.”

“Excuse me. But please keep your obscene remarks to yourself.”

“Eh? Panties is obscene? So . . .what, you're not wearing any?”

“Excuse me?!”

Tabitha leaned forwards, her wide grin threatening to overpower the entire room, much less Yuela.

“Hey, mind if I check? I'm kinda curious about how high society dresses these days.”

“Ahem.”

Sensing a tragic duel about to begin, Principal Priscelia wisely made herself known.

As for Mireille, she kept her attention on the portraits watching over their conversation.

Silent as a mouse.

Yes, as long as she made no loud noises or sudden movements, nobody would take notice of her. Nobody would see her unnatural smile. That's what she hoped.

“Is there a problem, Yuela?” asked Principal Priscelia. “Scholarships are awarded for distinction in the entrance examination. Your classmates are outstanding.”

“My appointment is completely arbitrary. The fourth member of this class doesn't have to be a scholarship student. There are non-scholarship students with excellent grades who would be more than willing—”

“It is not arbitrary, Yuela. And you were not the fourth to be chosen. You were the first. Please consider what that means . . . Now, I do believe it is time you met your instructor.”

Allowing the first sigh to escape her lips, Principal Priscelia glanced towards the windows. Yuela shivered, but said no more. Her silence was tantamount to a grim acceptance, although it was clear this war against the ordinary academy life she envisioned was far from over.

“Where is she?” she said, her voice resounding in its emptiness. “Why is she not here with us, her supposed students?”

“She's in the mountains within Alexandrite District.”

A deathly hush swallowed the room whole.

“. . . Why?” whispered Yuela.

“There is a high probability she is lost.”

Yuela palmed her face. She didn't even have the will to argue anymore.

“Lost. The new, highly accomplished instructor you've forced on me is lost . . .”

“On the way to the academy, I expect.”

“Principal Priscelia, it takes forty-five minutes to reach St. Florin's Academy using a carriage by the east entrance. Even less by train. In no way does a mountain factor into any travel route.”

“She took a detour.”

“A detour.”

“She also has an atrocious sense of direction, so she may not have even reached her detour destination, either.”

Yuela further buried her face in her hands. At this rate, she'd need to take the pocket mirror out again.

“. . . And . . . if she is lost, how you know where she is?”

“I see smoke.”

Principal Priscelia casually gestured out of the window. Following the point of her fingertip, Mireille spied a faint trail of black dust in the distance. It wouldn't have looked out of place billowing out from a healthy chimney.

“Hmm . . . then, shouldn't you be the one to find her, Principal?” asked Tabitha, standing in for the wordless Yuela.

“No, I believe it would admonish her more if her students found her,” she replied, as if this was simply what every principal would do.

“. . . Principal . . .”

Yuela spoke up in a tiny voice.

“. . . Can't I join another class instead . . . ?”

Principal Priscelia took a step towards the quietly trembling girl, extended her arm, and gently planted her hand down on Yuela's shoulder.

Her optimistic smile never wavered.

“. . . If you do have any complaints afterwards, we'll talk. But for now, why don't you meet your new instructor?”

It looked like Yuela Vlinder was about to cry.