Chapter Four: Lessons

Alceta woke to the sparkling ring of bells at dawn, though it was quite obvious that few others had actually heard it. She rolled off her bed and changed into the uniform, leaving her light cotton bathrobe in a pile on the floor. On second thought, she picked it up and folded it neatly. There was no point in making more work for the maid, Misa, her name was.

Gazing outside her window, she watched as clouds of rose and gold drifted above the horizon, and after them, followed the sun in all of its dazzling majesty. Bright rays of light shone through the glass and came to rest at her feet, and Alceta smiled almost sentimentally. Her first sunrise in this new land-now all one needed to hope was that it would not be the most glorious of all to come.

But it was uninteresting, no, simply boring to sit alone. Soon she found herself riffling through coats and such in the vain effort to find an object of amusement, more so, a good book. There was none. The Mother Goddess had not found it fit to supply her with anything other than twisted metal.

At the sound of a knocking on the door, Alceta leaped off her bed and pulled half her hair into a loose but acceptable ponytail. When she opened the door, she found no one standing outside. Misa had come and gone silent as a mouse, leaving only a slip of paper behind.

Lady Alceta of Deimos Point, it read, please find as follows your schedule for the forthcoming year. She frowned but continued reading the note that dictated her life for a year, memorizing it well as so to make as few mistakes as possible.

The Golden Bells only signified that breakfast began in an hour and a half, at 7:00, so it had been pointless for her to actually get up then. After breakfast, which lasted for half an hour, and a half hour period of free time came the morning classes, which were in literature, history, and mathematics, the last of which she acknowledged with a raised brow. Lunch went from 12:00 to 12:30 in the dining hall and was commenced with a single toll of the Emerald Bell. Afternoon classes seemed to be the ones that she had wanted to avoid; every day, she was scheduled for an hour each of etiquette and sewing, of all things. The other two hours were filled by the cycling of dance, art, music, management of estates, and falconry or riding. At 5:30, the Ruby Bell sounded for dinner, and from 6:00 onward was free time, which she would doubtless occupy in her room alone. Then the Silver Bells would tinkle at 10:00 for lights out.

Alceta scowled at the innocuous-looking piece of paper that had "Idiocy" spelled all over it. Mornings would be acceptable, but there existed no point at all to spend an hour every day learning manners and how to make clothing. The same applied to dance and art, both of which she was certain she would be hopeless at, but to the others, she held no opinion. Music had been taught as a supplement to the sciences, since several studies had shown that it enhanced creative thinking, but dance and art simply took up too much room. As of falconry and riding, she simply viewed them as a chance to see a real falcon. But a 10:00 lights out was stupid, no, inane. The Daughters were forcing them to waste a good two hours of the day by extinguishing the lamps and candles, and even if they didn't view it as such, the mind was clearest late at night. Then again, "ladies" didn't use their minds much at any time of day but needed their rest early.

She solemnly vowed never to become a lady.

* * * * *

When chattering voices filled the hallway outside, Alceta shook the creases of her dress out and stepped outside into the cluster of first years, but they moved away farther down the corridor. Not knowing whether to believe that it was her presence or merely following each other down to the dining hall, she shrugged and trailed them at a healthy distance. She took a seat near the very end of the long table and ate a slice of scantily buttered toast in silence, carefully ignoring the others. They used a considerably longer amount of time for the first meal of the day than she had expected, but when the entire hall rose to its feet and prepared to exit, she tried to just blend in. There were more than enough girls so that the First Daughter would not notice a few seconds of delay on any one's part.

Literature, the first class of the day, was taught by a short, dumpy Daughter whose name Alceta never managed to hear and whose lessons she didn't bother to make any effort to comply with. Instead, she flipped the leather-bound book open to its table of contents and scoured it for any titles of interest. There didn't seem to be any, and even if there were, the font was much too embellished for her to read any of it. Pity that no temporary hideaway existed in the books of Tortall.

Her brief moments of discovery were interrupted by the Daughter when she snapped the command to begin reading on page…what was it? Soft giggles sprung up throughout the room, deliberately evading her watchful eyes. Alceta ignored them with a stony expression on her face and frantically leafed through the book until she found a page that seemed remotely like what they had been reading before.

"But not all had been vanquished in the final assault," she said in her clearest, most exact speaking voice, "for there was a survivor lying in the ashes. His name was—"

"That's quite enough," snapped the Daughter. "Chapter Two of The Briar Rose, if you please. And see me after class for punishment work. The Daughters aim to instruct you in respect, humility, and attentiveness, no matter where you have come from."

The faintest of blushes surfaced on her cheeks, an occurrence Alceta was completely unfamiliar with. She had no choice but to read more, so she continued, "On a hill to the far, far West stood a lonely stone castle. Though the villagers had never seen the inside of the castle, nor even seen who lived inside it, they were forced to pay taxes yearly and—"

"Now, girls, who can tell me why the villagers wouldn't be happy?" For some reason, perhaps the stupidity of the readers, the black and white robed Daughter felt it necessary to interrupt at any given point. But there was a smattering of raised hands, and she smiled in approval. "Saira of Leewayrd?"

"Because we nobles were overtaxing the poor peasants, and we must always be considerate of our servants."

Alceta barely suppressed a sneer at the girl's obviously well rehearsed response but decided not to add her own comments. For one, whoever said that they were overtaxed? As anyone with sense knew, the lower classes needed someone to help them make decisions, and that someone had to be paid, hence taxes. It was a very fair bargain after all; the plebes supplied the leaders with money, who would in turn protect them fairly but sternly. The system insured the survival of both parties, and survival mattered more than anything else. Love, hatred, loyalty—what were they? Who would be loving or loyal when they were starving or dying of radiation poisoning? The Convent was a joke compared to the Academy, she thought. Even though she had not been a major in politics, all the students were given some instruction, and that was proving to be a decent education after all. Nations needed to be governed with the utmost of dispassion; if emotions and personal beliefs were mixed in there, the state was doomed to fall. Under this train of thought, Tortall was already gone if their literature was an accurate reflection upon the actual society.

The teacher droned on and on until finally Literature became History, not that she really noticed for a few minutes. But the Daughter in charge of this class was young and obviously fresh, since she had just the trace of life still in her. As she accepted a book of Tortall's past, Alceta even managed to give her a tiny smile in return.

She found that while just as strict as the others, Daughter Vallya could also be dramatic and entertaining. She swept around the small classroom exuding radiant energy, and the sunlight caught on the blond coifs on either side of her head and gave them a vibrant sheen. Her voice ranged from melancholy to stern to exuberant all in one sentence, for she enjoyed not questioning the reading and writing abilities of her new student, who in fact, could read and write on what was considered an alpha level, but simply talking about the pain and love that Tortall was founded upon. Though Alceta knew nothing about this foreign nation and saw the Daughter waltz out of the room without knowing any other rigid facts, she was perfectly happy in that there was at least one teacher who could teach.

Mathematics, discovered the girl, was a waste of time in this strangely backward land. Many of her year mates, including, not surprisingly, Taria and Elise, could barely do simple arithmetic. To the rest of the class the Daughter assigned a set of elementary algebra problems. Alceta had learned those concepts during her first year in the Academy, and she finished them in a few minutes.

"Have you completed the problems already?" she asked sharply. "Let me see." The Daughter pursed her lips and snatched the sheet of parchment without waiting for any response. Scanning the answers, she grudgingly admitted that all were correct and assigned the next page to be completed for tomorrow Alceta merely nodded but refused to do any more work for the present time.

Her skills were absolutely useless here, she realized with a pang of disappointment. No one understood or needed to understand differential algebra or string theory, and she had spent her entire life as of yet studying the abstract in order to apply them to the technology of the city. But in this place, no one knew what technology was or even thought about it; they were all wrapped up in a cocoon of ignorance. And Alceta pitied them for their stupidity, yet envied them for their acceptance of the world.

Lunch consisted of small sandwiches, and afterwards, the girls walked to the other side of the Temple for afternoon classes. In Etiquette, the First Daughter's assistant outlined the entire course of study in a single minute and explained how they were to "conduct themselves like the court ladies they were" at all times. Then she demonstrated the ideal posture of standing. They were expected to raise their heads, pull back the shoulders slightly, and position their feet in such a way that they would neither topple over nor give the impression of a coarse village wench.

Just as she had expected, the entire class was a time dedicated to behaving like a useless priss. Sewing was little better even though the instructor was old, wrinkled, and generally incapable of doing any teaching. As they began their first needlepoint, that of a single rose, Alceta learned that she could thread a needle and tie a knot, but for all her efforts, the fine embroidery silk insisted on tangling itself.

"Having a good time yet?" whispered a dry voice in her ear. She turned to find a mass of red curls bouncing just above her line of vision. Of course, it would be Carole, her outcast mentor.

"Of course I am," she responded with just as much sarcasm. "In fact, I'm wondering why I got sent here and agreed in the first place."

"Good," Carole smiled wickedly. "Because the First Daughter's pet teaches dancing, and the seamstress Daughter does art too."

SilverKnight7: Thanks for being my first reviewer, and the response to your question is that "All shall be revealed in good time." :P

Helsuzaba: Thanks for reviewing too. Alice/Alceta doesn't question anything because at the time, she was too shocked to ask. At first she tried to decline since she was given the choice, but if it's the Goddess, choices generally don't matter very much. It also has to do with the atmosphere at the Academy, which will come up from time to time. As of right now, she knows that she's in a place called Tortall but not that she has any special abilities or what her future is. Hope that clarifies a few points :-)

I have another chapter waiting…so the more people review, the sooner it'll be up.

And happy Festivus for the rest of us!