After the assembly, Oren walked Sable back to his room, their conversation filling the vast halls.
From him, Oren learned the truth of the border.
One of the many privileges of becoming Enlightened.
Apparently, entering the city required a hefty amount of yie, and remaining within it demanded far more.
Nothing inside was free, and those from the outskirts who crossed without paying were beaten and driven back.
Becoming Enlightened allowed free entry into the city, yet Oren knew there were further benefits beyond what Sable had said.
This explained why Enlightenment was so heavily sought after by the candidates. For most outskirtsmen, even in revered familes, their birthplace was a fixed destiny.
No job could grant them passage beyond the border, nor allow them to live in a city where their potential was recognised rather than dismissed.
Later that day, alone in his room, Oren attempted to sense the world's energy through meditation.
Though the concept felt familiar, no matter how long he concentrated, nothing answered him.
There was no presence, no flow, leaving him with a quiet realisation.
The thoughts faded as the next several days flew by in an instant.
There were now only five days left to prepare for the Trial of Longing, something said to take most candidates an entire week to complete.
With no further information, countless rumours spread throughout the academy.
Oren had heard that some students had lost hope, finding it pointless to remain until the trial day arrived.
Though they were only a handful, their actions led to immediate exclusion, and a warning was sent to every remaining candidate.
Oren, unlike some, found a way to continue gaining knowledge through the open lectures held within the academy.
During the day, the lectures covered mathematics, English, and science, helping him better understand the language and lore of the world.
Occasionally, they even touched on medicine, combat, and survival.
Due to his extensive past and former ties, Oren was already proficient in several subjects and fighting styles, far surpassing most other first year candidates.
Yet none of the lectures addressed Enlightenment or other uncanny matters, as the majority of those attending were upcoming first years.
At night, Oren continued practising meditation, attempting to sense the world's energy, yet his efforts showed no change.
Now, Oren could barely remain composed, for the day did not begin quietly.
…
In the far outskirts of the city, iridescent beams shone, cutting through scraps of metal and the roofing of old, tattered houses lining the streets.
Sunlight slipped into the distant academy classroom as the red sun rose steadily.
Oren was seated in the front corner of the classroom beside the window, leaning against his desk as he tried to get some rest.
So bright. He snickered, then looked away from the window.
Oren's eyes were cold, duller than usual, marked by sleepless nights.
He groaned inwardly, remembering his poor excuse for a bed.
The mattress he had slept on was, Cold, hard and thin. It was as though he slept on a mat not a bed.
In hindsight, he had been surprised to receive a room to himself.
They had said the rooms were for individuals, yet his was the size of two.
That fact alone made him question how the Academy obtained its resources.
How they could afford to grant such space at all.
But the size had not made up for quality.
He had been given a bed, a closet, a table, and a desk, academy uniform and gowns, all serviceable but poorly made.
The sort of furnishings common in the outskirts.
It was a quiet deception, especially when compared to what he had woken up in before.
Oren looked around the classroom.
The class was filled with twenty or so students. Their nervous taps and whispers filled the room.
Yet all gazes remained on him.
Just why. Why me, out of everyone.
Infront of the stares, Oren forced a smirk.
He did not know why they still cared so much. Was being late truly that severe?
Are they holding grudges?
Him being late to the assembly was a week ago. No matter the reason. He attracted alot of attention.
I am so popular already.
This was only their first real lesson in the academy, and all attention was on him, for better or for worse.
To be honest, he would have much preferred it if the introductory lesson was after the assembly instead of a week later.
But because it was a week later, Oren had been given a full week to explore the academy grounds.
He had discovered that this building was reserved for first years, which explained why he had not seen any other years.
The second and third years occupied the same structure, though it was divided into three sections, or blocks, that from the front of the academy, appeared merged.
Oren suddenly turned, instantly hearing a young girl's voice aimed at him.
"So this is the candidate who was late to the assembly."
The young, esteemed Telei ru spoke calmly, glancing at Oren with a serene smile.
A few students snickered.
Telei ru did not.
Rumours meant nothing to her until she met the person behind them. Oren was her list of people she had wanted to meet.
That was what she had been taught all her life. Do not judge a book by its cover.
Her snow white hair and emerald eyes reminded Oren of someone he could not name.
Not from poor memory. He had simply never met this person before.
Oren smiled and nodded.
"Yes, that is me. I was the one who was late, what of it."
He looked around the room, then let out a deep breath, seeing the candidates' grim expressions.
His voice turned sweet in an instant, a smile shone on his pale face.
"I apologise for being late. Please forgive my actions."
But his words fell silent under the hisses of the students.
They seemed not to care. Apologies meant nothing without change after all.
If he wanted to apologise, it would be best he did so through actions, not words.
Despite the distaste in the students' whispers, Telei ru continued, muttering.
Her voice was almost silent.
"Prove them wrong."
The words barely reached his ears, and so he did not understand what she meant.
What does she mean.
Before he knew it, Oren found himself turning around.
Another voice caught his attention. It was Candidate Forty Three, Kaeren.
Unlike some in the room, Kaeren had no named family of importance, or so Oren had heard.
That was why Oren was surprised to see him so confrontational.
Across the room by the bookshelf, Kaeren stood from his desk. He too was part of the larger group of candidates.
He raised his arm and pointed at Oren.
"You were born in the outskirts, were you not. Someone like you should know best not to be disrespectful."
Oren naturally nodded to that argument, but he was not from the world, let alone the outskirts.
How was he meant to know the norms of society.
But hearing another shout, Oren understood why they were so upset.
"You were late to the assembly. Do you not know how important the entrance assembly is. Do you not understand."
You dare act indifferent at esteemed Kaeren's words.
It seems I am not as informed as I thought, candidate forty three is esteemed?
Before Oren could respond, Kaeren sneered, then continued.
"Despite all of this, you fail to redeem yourself."
Kaeren snarled at Oren, his voice bitter.
"You even choose not to contribute in this easy introductory lesson."
"Oren.... Candidate Number Fourteen. You were late to the assembly and now cannot contribute in an easy lesson."
"How distasteful."
Oren chuckled, but his smile did not reach his eyes, fixed on Kaeren's own.
Despite not saying a word, Kaeren took it as a warning and sat back down.
"Ignore such impediment."
The words were calm, yet authoritative, coming from the front of the large classroom.
Me! I am an impediment. What did I do wrong.
But before Oren knew it, all eyes had returned to the front of the room.
There sat a young man behind an oak wood desk, his short brown hair framing his pale face.
"Continue your assignment that is on the board. I will be with you all shortly."
Elder Sloan's eyes sharpened as he spoke, his jaw tightening when he glanced at Oren.
Oren was currently trying his best not to doze off.
Giving in, he told himself, just five minutes of rest.
Not even a minute passed before a scraping sound made his head shoot up in shock.
He stared at the board in confusion, then squinted in disdain.
It was only Elder Sloan raising a piece of dirty white chalk to write again.
He glanced at Oren and smirked, then continued.
Today's lesson was written in capitals.
Beneath it, Elder Sloan had written a theory called a starter, something a few outskirt students, including Oren, had never encountered.
Elder Sloan then spoke, his voice cutting through the indulgent whispers of the youths.
"This lesson will only be taught once every few months in this academy, so listen carefully."
After a few minutes, Oren rested his head in his crossed arms, listening silently.
"Resource Theory."
Sir Sloan exhaled heavily, surveying the room.
Then he continued.
"Has anyone heard of this subject."
Well, i have never heard of it before, but just because Oren had never heard of it, did not mean he'd answer.
Instead, a proud voice rose from the centre of the room.
The young, hench man leaned forward in his chair, making it creak.
He was Surois yu.
Elder Sloan glanced at Surois yu longer than necessary.
The Yu family belonged to a revered lineage of merchants and tradesmen.
Not a high ranking family in the outskirts, but a rare and respected one.
Elder Sloan grinned. This student, in particular, should be well informed.
A mischievous smile spread across Surois yu's face, revealing his pearly white teeth.
"It is a geographical subject, but it is mostly known as an economic one, I believe," he muttered.
Elder Sloan chuckled.
"Correct. Today's lesson, however, will concern the currency you should all know. You may already be familiar with it."
Oren glanced across the room, his gaze passing bookshelves and desks alike, rarely spotting any disorder.
Yie. That is the currency we were given. Are there more forms. Oren wondered.
There should be different currencies for different continents and lands, more than one even within the outskirts.
He was uncertain. Did the outskirts even share the same currency as the city beyond the border? There must be more ways to obtain Yie too.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, a place he recalled, flickered into thought.
A place that could shift his situation if he played it right.
Oren's eyes remained fixed on the books at the back of the classroom. His unyielding stare drew a few students' attention, though none shared his interest.
The books were organised by year rather than reading level or comprehension.
Brown and murky red volumes were reserved for first years, which the candidates had yet to become.
Navy blue and dark green marked second years, while white and gold belonged to third years, the academy's final stage.
The third year books held the most information, with second and third years receiving far more knowledge, while first year volumes rarely exceeded a hundred pages.
They are most likely for the Enlightened. Those who could manipulate the world's energy.
"What is he doing."
The words quietly escaped Orens mouth as he noticed Sir Sloan lower his hand into his pocket.
In the next instant, a small, rigid coin rested in the elder's palm.
"It is Yie," Oren murmured unintentionally, just before Elder Sloan spoke again.
"Yes. Yie. This is specifically made from the rocks and steel of the Unison Mountains. It is called Mountain Yie."
Elder Sloan glanced toward the window and the city beyond.
"There are several types of Yie. Does anyone know them. The Yie the academy granted you was Mountain Yie."
No one replied, prompting Elder Sloan to sigh lightly.
His next words were slow and deliberate.
"Yie is the currency of the Unison Mountains. One of one. That is why none of the other lands can place a value on its name."
"In other words, the Unison Mountains' currency is invaluable."
Walking to the front of his desk, he continued.
"Does anyone want to guess what this invaluable currency is made from."
No one answered.
Upon hearing his words, Oren's eyes dimmed.
If they tell us the material, would they not try to recreate it.
It seemed Elder Sloan did not care about such a possibility.
His voice rose as he caught a breath.
"It is forged from rare resources, metals, and stones. Each type has its own worth. Golden Yie is the highest and most prestigious in the outskirts. Only certain families possess it."
The teacher continued, describing various resources found throughout the outskirts.
Oren, despite the free and valuable information, remained quiet.
At least I have you, he thought, glancing down at the chair.
"So warm," he murmured, then focused again.
Elder Sloan announced, "Mountain Yie is the average currency of the outskirts, with Mineral Yie being the lowest."
Despite sounding accessible, Mineral Yie was difficult to obtain.
Elder Sloan clarified this to prevent foolish ambition among candidates seeking to exploit the system.
Elder sloans voice grew calm, and dull, a blunt blade that had seen countless battles.
"To gather the correct materials, large groups of Enlightened were required."
"Most often, these were trained men and women dispatched from Unison City, and even those drawn from the outskirts under our own head clans."
His voice rose subtly.
"You must understand, they are organised into sanctioned teams and tasked with harvesting resources from the volatile zones that mundane citizens can not withstand."
"In other words, do not be so foolish to try and find such resources, you all are yet to be Enlightened."