Cassandra was sitting in a lecture on the theory of magical combat against the undead when the professor suddenly fell silent and shifted his gaze to a staff that had begun to glow.
Lifting it, he listened in silence to someone's voice for several moments, occasionally giving short nods. Afterward, he thoughtfully swept his gaze across the stufons before stopping on Cassandra.
— stufon Cassandra, proceed to the reception hall. A new stufon is waiting for you there and must be escorted to the swordsmen's wing. You will be awarded fifty units of academy currency for completing this task, — the professor said evenly.
Cassandra looked at the professor. She had been about to refuse, but the mention of fifty units of currency noticeably cooled her desire to argue.
— Fine, he's in the reception hall, correct? And when will I receive the currency: immediately after I escort him there, or can I collect it already in the reception hall? — Cassandra asked.
In the Academy, currency meant everything. More often than not, professors assigned stufons dangerous or time-consuming tasks, paying them precisely with it.
— He is in the reception hall. You can collect your currency from the professor in the swordsmen's wing—they have already been informed about you. Once you escort him there, return here immediately, — the professor replied, watching as Cassandra headed for the exit while noticing the whispers of the other stufons, who followed her with amused smirks and knowing winks.
Cassandra nodded and left the classroom. This lesson was optional for her; for members of her race, fighting against the undead was little different from a child's game. As a dark elf, she had inherited both the gift and curse of her people—the command of dark magic that had given rise to many undead and ghosts.
As she walked, Cassandra passed countless stufons hurrying to their lessons or returning from them.
Upon reaching the reception hall, she knocked and, after hearing permission to enter, opened the door. Inside, a young man was already waiting for her. He sat in an armchair by the wall, dressed in black, with white hair and a gaze filled with sadness and quiet resignation.
Somewhere deep inside, Cassandra mentally cursed the professor for choosing her specifically. She knew far too well how humans reacted to dark elves.
Light and dark elves differed not only in the nature of their magic, but also in their appearance and manner of dress. While light elves preferred more reserved clothing in pale tones, dark elves wore far more revealing attire that accentuated their figures, which often drew very particular looks from humans.
— Cassandra, this is stufon Trey. Please escort him to the swordsmen's wing, then return to your classroom, — the light elf said coldly.
The hostility between light and dark elves had existed since ancient times, though now it was supposedly a thing of the past—at least officially, all races lived in peace.
— Yes, I know. The professor already informed me. Come, stufon Trey, I'll guide you to your wing, — Cassandra said, waiting for him to rise.
Trey stood, picked up his sack and the rulebook along with the Academy map. Just before leaving, he turned toward the elf woman and gave her a slight bow.
— Thank you for your assistance. Farewell, — Trey said in a calm voice.
Opening the door with one hand, he held it open to let Cassandra pass first.
Cassandra clicked her tongue in annoyance and silently headed toward the swordsmen's wing. Trey walked beside her, curiously observing everything around him; his gaze moved over paintings, corridors, and the stufons passing by.
Many watched them with astonished looks. A dark elf and a human walking together—would the red moon rise tomorrow as well? Cassandra could almost read that question in their eyes.
Irritated, she quickened her pace, only to glance back soon after and see that Trey was still calmly following behind, not even trying to match her speed. For some reason, that irritated her even more.
— stufon Trey, can you walk faster? We're not out for a stroll, — Cassandra snapped irritably.
Trey looked at her, let out a quiet sigh, then silently nodded and increased his pace. Yet the farther they walked, the more attention they drew.
Frowning, Trey quickly examined himself, as though trying to determine whether he looked strange in some way. Finding nothing unusual, he shifted his gaze to Cassandra. Noticing how tenser she became with every step, he finally decided to ask:
— Why are they looking at us like that?
As he said this, he glanced around once more, unintentionally drawing even more attention to them.
— Because of you, — Cassandra replied irritably. — A human and a dark elf walking together look about as natural as water and fire. Besides, humans tend to give dark elf women very particular looks.
Trey raised an eyebrow slightly. It was clear he wanted to say something, but in the end he merely shrugged and decided to ignore their surroundings.
Meanwhile, Cassandra was growing more nervous by the moment. Her only faint comfort was that this human at least wasn't staring at her the way so many others had before him.
She understood that right now he was simply overwhelmed by the Academy and the sheer number of unfamiliar faces. But sooner or later, he would most likely become just like the others.
When she noticed the turn they needed, Cassandra visibly brightened. Around the corner stood a massive door bearing the inscription "Swordsmen's Wing," beside which a professor was already waiting.
As they approached, she noticed him raise an eyebrow slightly in surprise, but she chose to pretend she hadn't seen it. Stopping before him, Cassandra gave a short bow.
— Professor, I have escorted stufon Trey from the reception hall. I must now return to my classroom. Please transfer the promised fifty units of currency, — she said, trying to keep her voice calm.
The professor nodded, withdrew his staff, and brought it toward the medallion hanging around Cassandra's neck. Afterward, he quietly spoke:
— Transfer fifty units of currency to stufon Cassandra.
A soft beam of light shot out from the staff and flew into her medallion.
After confirming the currency had been transferred, Cassandra cast one final glance at Trey and the professor.
— Farewell, Professor. Goodbye, stufon Trey, — she said, giving a brief bow before turning toward the exit.
Just as she disappeared around the corner, a calm voice sounded behind her.
— Thank you.