First Petals of Spring at Garreg Mach

Gwen clutches her worn leather satchel as she shuffles into the grand entry hall, eyes fixed on the polished stone floor. Sunlight pours through high stained-glass windows, scattering color across the cloistered arches and the crowd of new students gathering in small, uncertain knots. Her heart thrums as voices echo off the walls, a swirl of greetings, laughter, and nervous introductions. Across the hall, a knight in church livery gestures helpfully toward a roster pinned beside an ancient pillar. Gwen edges closer, careful not to bump anyone, the chill of anticipation almost as real as her magic. A tall girl with striking silver hair pauses by Gwen’s side, glancing down at her with a tentative smile.

“Are you looking for your name too? I’m nervous as a kitten.”

The sound of the bell signals the start of orientation. Gwen forces herself to look up, cheeks flushed, and nods. Around her, the world of Garreg Mach waits to be discovered.

Gwen keeps her gaze lowered, her fingers tracing the worn edge of her satchel. She shifts slightly, her voice barely rising above the hall’s ambient hum.

"Me too,"

she admits.

"Not many commoners get in here, I've never seen a place quite like this."

Lysandra tilts her head, her silver hair catching the light.

The touch of Lysandra’s shoulder and the gentle squeeze on Gwen’s arm dissolve some of the tension, coaxing a faint, genuine smile to Gwen’s lips. The towering arches lose their weight, replaced by the unexpected warmth of this new connection. Lysandra waits patiently, her eyes searching Gwen’s face for a response.

A warm flush spreads across Gwen's cheeks, standing out against the cool stone of the hall. She offers a bright, relieved smile, her shoulders easing as the weight of solitude lifts. Lysandra beams back, her silver hair catching the light beneath the high, vaulted ceiling, then begins to turn toward the crowded announcement board.

The pair weaves through the crowd of students, moving toward the stone pillar where a knight stands watch over the parchment. The air carries the sharp scent of old ink mixed with quiet anticipation. Lysandra slows her steps, her eyes fixed on the list with a focus that matches the steady murmur filling the hall.

Gwen steps toward the heavy parchment, her shoulder brushing against Lysandra’s as they both lean in. The knight, Valerius, stands tall and unyielding, his polished armor catching the dimming light of the hall. His sharp, disciplined gaze follows the two girls as they search the long list of names for their own.

Gwen’s finger hovers just above the parchment, scanning the dense columns of ink. Beside her, Lysandra holds her breath, eyes flicking over the list with urgent focus. The knight stands unmoving, a stone monolith, his blue eyes catching the flicker of candlelight as he waits for their response.

Valerius lowers his gaze to the parchment, his gauntleted finger tracing a line through the dense rows of names. He pauses near the bottom, his expression unreadable behind the visor. The hall falls into sudden silence, the murmurs of other students fading away as he shifts his stance, his armor chiming with a sharp, resonant metallic clatter.

Gwen shifts her weight, her eyes flicking between the dense rows of names and Lysandra’s expectant face. She casts a brief, silent glance toward her companion, her heart pounding against her ribs as she waits for the knight to speak. Valerius’s finger moves slowly across the parchment, then comes to a firm stop.

The cold finality of the words lingers, sharper than the stone walls enclosing them. Lysandra’s silver hair brushes against Gwen’s shoulder as she steps back, a quiet dismay shadowing her face. They stand motionless, the space between their assigned houses suddenly feeling immense. Gwen’s eyes fix on the parchment, the ink blurring before her, while the knight remains a silent, rigid statue beside them.

Lysandra’s grip on Gwen’s hand tightens, her knuckles paling in the dim, cool light of the hall. Around them, the murmur of students fades into a dull roar, leaving the sharp echo of boots striking stone. Valerius turns his head, his gaze sweeping the hall with mechanical precision, ignoring the lingering girls.

Gwen feels the warmth of Lysandra’s palm against her own, a steady anchor amid cold stone and echoing footsteps. She lifts her eyes to meet Lysandra’s, her expression earnest and calm, cheeks still flushed with tension.

"I promise,"

she repeats, her voice clear and firm despite the noise around them. Nearby, Valerius stands silent and armored, a constant reminder of the rules pulling them apart.

Gwen pulls her hand back as if burned, the knight’s metal plate standing before her like a closed door. She casts one last, desperate glance at Lysandra, whose eyes catch the dim, flickering light of the hall. The air grows cold and heavy, silence stretching thin between them as the knight watches.

Gwen stands frozen as the rhythmic sound of retreating footsteps fades into the vast, echoing chamber. Valerius remains, his gaze a cold, unyielding weight upon her shoulders. She turns toward the opposite corridor, the path to the Golden Deer, while the lingering scent of incense and old parchment settles heavily around her.