1.13 - Barracks

'First-year barracks' wasn't a wholly correct way to describe the accommodations. Technically, there weren't any policies mandating that a person bought their way out of the shared living space, not that Natalie knew of. So there could be second-years, or fourth, for that matter.

But any reasonable person would get out of the barracks as soon as possible. Even the most long-suffering didn't want to be crammed in with dozens of other students, especially in what wasn't so much a room as a long hall lined shoulder-to-shoulder with beds and lockers.

Natalie had arrived late, relatively speaking. Tinford was in the far south of Valhaur, and the five-hour train-ride was longer than the vast majority of students had needed to travel.

Walking slowly in, wearing her backpack and lugging her suitcase in one hand, Natalie scanned her surroundings, looking for Jordan. There were no guarantees they'd be roomed together. Considering the size of the barracks, though, there weren't horrible odds. Natalie didn't have an idea how big Tenet's yearly student-intake was, but surely not more than a few hundred.

Which still meant roughly eight barracks of this size. So not great odds, either. But random chance might bless them. Natalie tried not to get her hopes up, because she doubted they'd land the one-in-eight dice toss. She'd never be so lucky.

Peering around, hopes deflating, she didn't see Jordan's black hair tied up in a bun. And even worse than that … something else caught her eye.

Hair, of a more distinct, recognizable quality.

White hair.

Natalie barely didn't groan. Sofia. Of course she'd gotten placed in Sofia's barracks.

And, as Natalie finished looking around the long hall with growing dread, she realized something else. All of the beds were claimed. Not all had their occupants present, but all were claimed. Literally. Every single one, besides a single. Natalie was the last of the barracks suite to arrive—and Sofia had been second to last.

And guess where the only open bed was?

Natalie couldn't quite fight off the groan, understanding the fate that had befallen her. The nearest student—a short girl with brown hair—gave her an odd look, which forced Natalie to compose herself. It was best she didn't earn a reputation for eccentricity that fast after arriving.

The event was organic, not coincidence. As the last to arrive because of their long trip from Tinford, she and Sofia had received the two least-desired beds of the grouping—the ones in the middle of the rows, and directly beneath the cooling glyphs engraved into the ceiling. Not only would the hum of magic be the most audible there, she and Sofia would be getting blasted with cold air whenever they were active. Considering they were in a Valhaurian summer … pretty often. Not to mention the foot traffic, being sandwiched in by everyone.

Natalie sighed. Honestly, all of the above didn't bother her. She'd been braced for misery, coming to Tenet. Hardship was one of the appeals, even. She was starting her future as a delver … and delvers didn't have easy lives. This was more or less what she'd expected.

But why Sofia?

Well. Looking on the bright side, it wasn't like Natalie would be at the barracks often. She'd be out training, studying, or otherwise being productive. With forty roommates, she doubted anyone would be spending much time here, besides for sleeping.

As Natalie walked down the long barracks hall, she took in the living space in greater detail. There was an economy of design in the layout … because how else would they cram everyone shoulder-to-shoulder?

Each student had a slightly elevated bed (where underneath, it seemed, shoes were going), a locker, and a chest at the foot of their bed. Not much storage space, hence Natalie's—and everyone else's—limited luggage. The locker, one of which Natalie could see inside as she walked toward her inevitable fate, was fairly deep, and had a rod plus provided hangers to hang clothes from. There was a mirror inside, and a glyph for producing light. Also, several drawers of varying sizes. All in all, about what she'd expected. Simple accommodations.

The chest probably wasn't worth mentioning. There were locks and keys for each. It was where anything valuable would go. Though, Natalie doubted there were many thieves at Tenet. Of the mundane sort, she meant … there might be a few [Thieves] of various sorts.

As she'd already mused over, only a tiny portion of their studentbase were in Natalie, Jordan, and Sofia's situation … which was to say, not obscenely rich. The kinds of people qualifying usually had generational wealth—and training—behind them, helping them reach this point. Why would they steal anything?

But still. A lockbox was nice to have, for peace of mind. Even if she didn't have anything valuable monetarily, she had sentimental belongings whose safety she'd want ensured.

The bed was tiny, though enough to fit a single person comfortably. The sheets were made with crisp edges. Natalie wondered how long that would last—the sharp, organized condition of everything here. Sure, Tenet had policies for keeping their living spaces in good condition, but they weren't, to her knowledge, overly strict.

The similarities to a military academy were visible, but Tenet wasn't such, not actually. She might be required to make her bed in the morning, but there wouldn't be drills, or instructors inspecting for the smallest infraction. That wasn't, ultimately, what Tenet was here to encourage. Conformity wasn't the goal. Conformity was the opposite of the goal. They wanted students who stood out as starkly as possible.

Despite the cramped layout, the quality of everything was outstanding. The barracks sparkled, floor to ceiling. There wasn't a single scuff-mark or patch of discolored paint. Tenet was the premier training academy in all of Valhaur … and likely in the top five for the world. Funding wasn't a problem. How could it be? The students who left this campus, having graduated, were a collection of professionals who powered a staggering amount of the Valhaurian economy just by themselves. Monster cores grew in strength exponentially, and so the strongest adventurers hoisted society up on their shoulders, essentially, with the loot they dragged back from a delve. And a decent portion of that esteemed echelon of society came from Tenet.

Low- and mid-rank adventurers were just … kind of there. Trying to reach those heights. Certainly useful, but a mid-rank monster core provided a sliver of a fraction of what a high-rank core did.

Tenet's goal was to create high-rankers. The best. Hence, their exacting standards, and the systems they'd designed, carefully, to force competition—and thus growth.

Like being stuck in a shitty, cramped barracks, and having to buy your way out through their token system. Tokens, which were earned in a variety of ways … but most notably, the obvious. Delving.

Or academic excellence. And academic excellence at a delving academy meant, most prominently, combat prowess. So more or less the same thing.

Sofia had her suitcase laid out across her bed, and she was unpacking her belongings into her locker.

Natalie arrived to her bed. Sofia looked up and saw her.

She grimaced.

"Preaching to the choir, Sofia," Natalie said sourly, thumping her own suitcase onto the only open bed. "Preaching to the choir."