A bare mattress sat by the icy window. There were three beds in their room but only two were occupied. There had been some talk of another couple girls being brought from the west coast of Antica which would account for the longer journey.
"I hate how they look at us." Cecilia commented quietly in Antican.
Faye rested her back against the headboard, flipping through one of their new text books. It was for history class. It was as though someone had gone through with a pair of scissors and cut out half of human existence. With a groan she tossed the revisionist text to the side. It thudded to the floor.
"They might as well put us in cages like at the zoo," Faye replied dryly, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "Charge the public to come stare at us."
"It's not even that kind of stare. It's almost predatory." Cecilia pulled her braid over her shoulder and played with the frayed end.
Faye snorted, "I didn't get that impression."
"Well, I did."
Faye studied her roommate. The slight figure of the girl was dwarfed by the twin bed. With her spindly legs crossed in front of her, she made a neat, lean line on the tightly tucked woolen blanket. She was staring intently at a book on the Brechten language but she wasn't reading it. Cecilia closed her book in quiet resignation. After placing it gently on the bedside table, she wrapped a crocheted shawl around her thin shoulders.
"When do you think she'll get here?" she asked glancing over at the empty bed.
Faye was about to respond when the door flung open. Both of the girls shot to their feet and stood at attention by their beds. Matron Mauntrel was a tall woman. The bun of thick graying hair on the top of her head nearly touched the door frame as she passed under it. With her spidery hands folded coolly at her middle, she surveyed the room. Her expression was that typical, icy Brechten reserve. Even her thin lipped smile was frosty.
"Ladies."
"Matron Mauntrel," they replied in unison.
"I trust you had a productive and successful first day."
"Yes, Matron."
Cecilia cast her eyes to the floor as the Matron paused in front of her. Without a word, she carefully unfolded the shawl from the girl's shoulders. Rolling it up and tucking it under her arm, Matron Mauntrel peered down at Cecilia like a disapproving goddess.
"We discussed the school guidelines yesterday, did we not?" Matron Mauntrel asked, peering over her shoulder at Faye, "Miss Zimmerman?"
"Yes, Matron." Faye raised her gun metal grey eyes to the woman's gaunt face.
"I know you don't speak our language yet, Miss Heron," Mauntrel turned her attention once more on the nervous young woman in front of her, "But I think you understand my meaning."
Mauntrel moved away from her, strolling towards Faye's side of the room. She quietly inspected her living space. The woman's hawkish gaze careened down to Faye's feet. The history book lay face down and open on the floor where she had tossed it. Faye cringed as Mauntrel knelt and picked it up. The Gazette advertisement nearly slipped from the pages. It caught the Matron's attention.
"You interested in writing for the school paper?" Mauntrel asked calmly, reading the crumpled paper.
"Yes Matron."
"I think that would be wise. Your Brechten is nearly flawless." Mauntrel glanced up at her, "They are always looking for more writers. Their editor this year is a fine young man from a good family."
Faye clenched her hands behind her back. The adjectives fine and good were far from what she would apply to any of the Brechten youths she had met that day. She stubbornly saw them as the enemy, even if it was only in her heart. She nodded compliantly.
"You should go see him," Mauntrel handed her the book, "and try to take better care of our texts. They are only loaned to you. Nothing here belongs to you." She strode towards the door calling out a reminder that their evening meal would be served promptly on the hour.
"What was that?" Cecilia asked, rubbing her upper arms.
Faye released a lung full of air, "The Matron putting us in our place. You won't see that shawl again."
Cecilia's shoulders slumped as she sank onto the edge of her bed, "My mother made it for me before I left."
Faye walked to the opposite side of the room and sat down next to her roommate. Gingerly wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders, Faye attempted a smile as Cecilia looked up at her.
"She'll make you another one. I'm sure of it."
The food at the National Academy was the best part of the entire experience. After years of rationing, their portions growing more meager at home as defeat drew closer. The girls were in awe of the abundance. The second evening's meal proved to be even more impressive than the first.
At the three long tables designated for their use at the head of the chamber, they were directly beside the teacher's table on a dais. Though it had been refurbished for modern use, the main building was the shell of a hundred year old castle. The exposed beams in the ceiling and tall side windows black with night left Faye feeling vulnerable.
"Can you... vegetables?" Cecilia attempted to say in Berchten, pointing to the bowl of lightly buttered carrots.
The girl across from her rolled her gooseberry eyes and shoved them in Cecilia's direction, "Faye, your friend could use some more practice. Her accent is atrocious."
Faye's eyes narrowed at the pinch faced girl, "And yours sounds like you learned your Berchten at the cinema, Gladys."
Gladys Albert took a bite of her steak, "At least I learned it from both my parents, Halfbreed."
Faye's grip on her fork tightened. Cecilia subtly reached over and laid her fingers on Faye's hand.
"Don't let her get to you. We're all we've got here. We need to stick together-" she whispered in the forbidden Antican tongue.
"Miss Heron?"
Faye swallowed her bite hard and peeked over her shoulder. Matron Mauntrel loomed over them, her steely eyes fixed on Cecilia.
"Miss Heron, I thought you understood the consequences for speaking in Antican," Mauntrel chided darkly, "You are going to have to come with me."
Cecilia's eyes moistened. Faye impulsively jumped to her feet.
"It was me," She blurted, loud enough to catch the attention of the boys at the table across from them, "I was the one speaking in Antican. I'm sorry, Matron."
Mauntrel drew her gaze slowly towards Faye. Pursing her lips, she folded her hands primly over her stomach.
"Very well. Come with me, Miss Zimmerman."
Following the Matron, Faye glanced over at the last slab of boys in the line-up. They were the older ones, closer to her age. Her heart dropped into her stomach as she caught the eye of the Gazette editor. She wondered if she'd ever have the chance to write for the paper after this debacle.
The Matron led her directly to the Headmaster. "The Anticans already causing trouble, I see?" The man commented wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Well, what has she done?"
Headmaster Burns was notoriously against the Antican Experiment, as the girls had come to be called. He felt it was a waste of time to interbreed with a less superior people. At their 'welcoming' ceremony, he had the gall to say that hopefully they could burn away the weakness in their blood as it was the only way they would be worthy of a Berchten suitor.
"She was speaking in her native tongue." The Matron replied, standing aside so the Headmaster faced Faye.
"Her native tongue?" Headmaster Burns leveled Faye with a steady stare, his unblinking hazel eyes snakelike, "Come forward, girl."
As Faye stepped up, adrenaline fired in her veins. She struggled to keep a straight face. Even as a child, she hated being shamed for doing something against the rules. Her stomach rolled with dread, even though in this particular incident she had done nothing wrong.
"What is your native tongue, girl?"
"Antican, Headmaster."
"Is it now?" His gaze narrowed as he rested his elbows on the table, "What is your lineage? Your parents, where are they from?"
The stifling room was unbearably silent. She sensed the stares of the students drilling into her back, "My father is from southern Antica, the state of Gallic."
"And your mother?"
Faye wet her lips, "She is from the Egova region of Berchta to the south of here."
"I see," The Headmaster managed a frostbitten smile with yellowed teeth, "An Egovan girl. They are known for their speaking voices, as great orators. The best in the world. So it could be said that your native tongue is also Berchten?"
"Yes, Headmaster."
"Now, wouldn't you want claim the better part of your lineage first before the lesser? And practice your Berchten with that doubtlessly beautiful Egovian voice you possess?"
Faye bit back a grimace and tried not to think of her gentle eyed Antican father, "Yes, Headmaster."
"Very well. I believe this will do you some good."
He waved the Matron forward and murmured something unintelligible to her. Mauntrel swept past Faye who remained standing on the dais. The Headmaster resumed his meal. The other professors eyed her with contempt. Faye dropped her burning face, trying ignore the dribble of sweat pearling at her hairline.
It was an eternity before Mauntrel returned. She lugged with her a heavy, leather bound book. The Matron waved over one of the serving maids and pointed towards a podium by one of the windows. The girl dragged it over, propping it up front and center. The Matron set the book on it with a thud.
Laying his napkin on the table, the Headmaster straightened the jacket of his uniform. The many medals on it glinted in the lamp glare. The room grew quiet once more without him needing to say a word.
"As many of you already know, our Antican guests are here to learn our ways. To be purified of their former lives and begin anew. It is a generous opportunity they have been given. However, it seems some are resentful of our charity," The Headmaster lifted a finger, "If you could turn please, Miss…"
"Zimmerman." The Matron whispered.
"Miss Zimmerman here prefers to soil her mouth with the language of her former country. She betrays her own race by doing so and endangers all of you with mediocrity. Now, if you will apologize to them, Miss Zimmerman?"
Faye gaped at him. His gaze tightened on her, daring her to rebel. Faye's posture stiffened and her jaw clenched.
"Loud enough now, so they can all hear you." The Headmaster chided coolly.
"I'm-" Faye's voice cracked as she faced the room, her fists cramping, "I apologize."
"For what, Miss Zimmerman? And louder."
Faye could see the kitchen staff watching in the shadows. She exhaled heavily as she met eyes with the Gazette Editor. His sage green gaze held the chill that had invaded her bones since stepping foot in that damnable country. Faye's adrenaline shifted from shame to anger.
"I apologize!" She barked hotly at the green eyed boy, "I apologize for not speaking in your language!"
"Who's language?" The Headmaster goaded.
"My language!"
"Very good, Miss Zimmerman. Now, if you will please approach the podium."
Faye did as she was told and surveyed the cover of the book. The gold leaf words read 'The Book of Our Fathers' in Berchten. She was familiar with the title and immediately felt sick.
"Miss Zimmerman will now practice her latent Egovan rhetoric skills for you until I say so," The Headmaster directed, seating himself, "You may begin, Miss Zimmerman."
Swallowing with a dry mouth, Faye's hands hovered over the cover.
"Miss Zimmerman?"
With a dull thump, she opened the thick tome. The verses were concocted acid, lines of pretty poison fed to the Berchten public since their venerable Emperor came to power. It was clownish propaganda parading as the heritage of a once noble people. Faye tried not to think of how this would break her mother's heart.
"And then the Ideal came down from the mountain. A Divine of purity and courage, pervading all around him with his spirit. We are the descendants of such, we walk the thin line between heaven and our earth. We have been chosen as Masters and they…" Faye gripped the podium, "They are to be the Mastered."
The reading continued for the rest of the meal. At the sound of the half hour, the room emptied in an orderly fashion. Faye paused, watching the rest of the students leave for their dorms. She glanced over at the Matron quizzically. Mauntrel tightened her lips.
"Till I say you can stop, Miss Zimmerman." The Headmaster gently reminded her as he calmly descended from the dais, "Until I say so. I'll be informed of your progress. You are doing wonderfully."
Faye stared in mute horror at the page before beginning once more. She glanced up to see the Editor standing in the aisle. His caramel head was cocked to the side, studying her as though she were a specimen on display. She lifted her pert chin defiantly.
"No better than the animals," She read aloud without breaking eye contact, "Bloodied jaws, harbingers of the drought, hungry for the hunt. Beware the Lowborn. They only bring famine."
The maid servants ignored her as they cleaned the tables and swept the room. Soon she was speaking alone to a barren room with only the single lamp over her head. By midnight, her stomach was protesting. She had only been able to eat half of her green salad when the incident had occurred. Faye ignored the pangs and did her best to muster strength into her voice.
A shadow slid in the door. She assumed it was one of the Headmaster's informers there to make sure she continued her lonely vigil. As the shadow drew closer, keeping to the walls, Faye's heart sped up. She wondered if anyone could hear her scream from there. The hair on the back of her neck rose as the figure drifted behind her. Faye paused and waited. Someone tucked a small parcel wrapped in a kerchief into her hand at her back.
"We're all we've got here, right?" The girl whispered harshly in Antican.
Faye blinked at the figure of Gladys Albert as she swiftly dipped into the shadows and left the room without another word. Faye unwrapped a half a roll and a small piece of chocolate. She fought a smile.
The words blurred in her eyesight. Occasionally she sensed another presence lingering by the open door but never saw anyone. Towards dawn, she had nearly lost her voice. The thorny lines of hate and superiority melded in a living nightmare in her sleep deprived brain. Faye had nearly lost sense of time in the grey gold glow when the bell calling for the morning meal sounded.
She didn't acknowledge the groups of students filing towards their tables. Clutching the podium till her knuckles whitened, she swayed. Her eyelids felt like sandpaper as she struggled to focus on the glaring white page. Appearing from thin air like the Divine Ideal coming down from the mountain, the Headmaster stood before her. He calmly sipped his coffee, the morning light catching the veins of silver in his neatly combed amber hair.
"Very good, Miss Zimmerman. You may step down and have your breakfast now."
Faye swallowed, though her mouth was parched dry. The Headmaster glowered at her with scornful apathy before marching away. She took one shaky step away from the podium before her knees gave out. The world spun madly for a brief second before turning black.
"She's coming around," a strange voice announced, breaking through the darkness.
Faye struggled to peel open her eyes. The incessant pounding at the center of her brain drove her to consciousness. She groaned as she took in her surroundings.
"That's a girl." A young woman coaxed as she brought the rim of a cup to her lips, "Here, you need to drink."
Faye obeyed, the water dribbling slightly down her chin. The girl reached out with a handkerchief and dabbed it away.
"Who are you?" Faye croaked.
The girl laughed brightly. "You seem lucid enough. That's a good sign."
"Faye!"
Cecilia was at her side, dropping to the floor by the bed. She grasped Faye's hand in her warm fingers, her wide eyes filling with tears.
"Faye, I am so very sorry. I don't know how-"
"Please, Cecilia," Faye's voice faltered, "You aren't the one who did this to me. We're the victims here."
The unknown girl snorted, "We aren't victims. We are survivors."
"This is Estella Winter. She's our third roommate." Cecilia explained.
"Took you long enough to get here." Faye smirked at the brunette, liking the look of the girl's long, open face.
Estella smiled, highlighting a dusting of freckles over her nose, "I see I missed all the fun."
"How long have I been asleep?"
"Almost all day," Estella replied, "We are overdue for dinner. We'll bring you back something."
"Thank you," Faye nodded, "You two go on then. The last we need are more punishments for silly infractions."
Cecilia pursed her lips, "You shouldn't speak like that, Faye. Please."
Faye felt the chill of fear that resonated in the book's hateful words permeate her mind. She bit her lip.
"Of course."
Once her roommates had left her to the half darkened room, Faye's eyes rested on the history book. It was carefully laid on her bedside table, the Gazette advertisement visible between the pages. Faye sipped her water as she settled into her sheets with a sigh. She gazed at the book till she realized there was another piece of paper tucked behind the cover.
Sitting up gingerly with a cringe, she opened the book in her lap. On a torn piece of notebook paper, there was a short note.
Miss Zimmerman,813Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJoESlHKx5K
If you could come to the Gazette office at your earliest convenience, there is a writer's position that has become available. Bring any samples of your work with you organized in a portfolio to be reviewed.813Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2IJvNhs3Iv
Sincerely,813Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqpyqFwWC1z
Gustav Wolff, Editor in Chief
