I left the room after discussing a few details with Dean Wallace Heinz. My gait was a little humbler as I walked towards Mr Crawford, who had been waiting for me with utmost patience. He noticed the chain dangling from the front pocket of my vest and smiled. 'Everything went great, I presume? he asked, patting my shoulder softly.
'Yes. I need to visit the Planning Offices,' I replied.
'Right away,' said my stout companion as he led me out the door. He was as aware of the black-haired man as I was. That sharp glare was still directed at us, even while we retrieved our belongings. I thought to myself, who is he? Security? Bodyguard? Second assistant? Valet? Chauffeur with nothing better to do? Hairdresser— No! Can't be! With that short hair? Definitely not. He has no style. I scoffed, thinking I had any with scuffed shoes and discoloured socks. Oh, they weren't even mine, were they?
As I was thinking of buying a pair of each, we arrived at the familiar fountain. The flock of pigeons had gathered once again, but I vowed to ignore them this time. I was a grown man, you see. Surely, I wouldn't do it again— but I did! I stomped loudly and scared them away. Oh, what fun! Mr Crawford ignored my antics. By now, he must have figured I was capricious, no better than a child.
Soon, we arrived at the grand statue. I asked Mr Crawford, who was waiting for the tram beside me, 'What is the name of this place?'
He curled his moustaches, playing with them. I admired them a little, but truly, he looked funny in them. 'The manor is simply called 'Dean's Manor.' No ingenuity, I know. The square is called 'Wilhelm's Glory.' It was named after Sir Wilhelm Frank, who died defending the institute three hundred and twenty years ago. He was knighted young and died young, they say. He held, with his men, the whole of the academy. He cut and cleaved the barbarians that sailed and landed on our shores to the east; not one did enter the estate with limbs intact.' I admired these stories, and I admired the man who forged them. Soon, the tram arrived. 'Let us board,' said Mr Crawford. And so, we did.
I checked the hour on my new pocket watch, trying impetuously to dazzle the gathering of students around me. It was a very subtle way of making them envious, I believed. The watch showed half-past eight. It was about time for breakfast, and my belly spared no effort to remind me of it.
It was at the time when I was about to stash the beautiful piece of ticking silver in my pocket that I discovered direct glances at me. Assuming it as their jealousy, I revelled in glory. But that was not so. I could read on their faces their prevailing thoughts. They were curious, not about the watch but about me. Right, I thought. Only the teaching staff wears these. So, are you curious about what I am here for, what I am to teach? Wait, why do you investigate my face so cautiously? Do you believe me incapable of teaching? You discern that from one glance at my face? How rude! I have been told I have a good face. My mother used to say I am the most handsome boy in the neighbourhood! And let me tell you, she was no liar!
Even the girls at the orphanage and the orphanage mother used to call me pretty. Now, I disagree with that. I am handsome, not pretty. But a compliment must be appreciated. Oh, perhaps you wonder how come this boyish (I have been called that. Unbelievable, don't you agree?) boor is a professor? Well, I shall forgive you. I am generous, after all.
As I was thinking how good of a person I am, we arrived at our location. I looked at the watch. It had only been twenty minutes. 'That was quick,' I said, exiting the yellow vehicle.
'We are in the inner sector. Important venues are here. It is a large place, yes, but not larger than the outer sector.' I nodded along to Mr Crawford's speech, enjoying the scenery. I liked this place a lot. All the roofs were painted either grey or brown while every house had been built with stone. I wondered how magnificent this place must look from a high place, a hill or something similar. Perhaps I may yet be able to take a glance from atop that spire of the library.
I saw flowerpots of different colours and vines that covered windows and roofs. There was a white cat basking in the nice weather atop the rail of a balcony. As we walked through these narrow streets, I saw crowds going about their business. None of them looked poor or hard-handed. Most were dressed in uniforms. I saw children in black shirts, blue ties, blue double-breasted suits, blue trousers for men, and black ones for ladies. They also had earrings, headbands, and ribbons.
'We are here,' said the stout man while leaving the alley after what seemed like a five-minute stroll. There, on the bank of a canal, across the small stone bridge, was a three-storey building coloured in white.
'Where did this canal come from?' I exclaimed, finding it rather ridiculous.
'It runs through the underground tunnels, under the narrow streets,' Mr Crawford explained, leading me across the bridge. 'The tunnels open in very few places, like this here. This is how water is supplied to the buildings.' The water was clear and shone a brilliant golden by the grace of the sun's rays. It was blinding, a little uncomfortable but beautiful. I quickly ran to Mr Crawford's side, finding him way ahead of me. When I reached him, we were one step inside the white building.
What greeted me was a large courtyard with a statue of a woman in a loose gown carrying a wooden bucket filled with water. Sparrows and flinches were bathing in the bucket. I saw men heaving boxes along the balustrade on the first floor. The building had many windows when seen from the outside. I thought there should be as many chambers, but I was proven wrong. There was a corridor to both of our sides. I could see the outside from its many windows. There were short curtains and flowerpots around each of them. It was not luxurious like the Dean's Manor, but it had a certain calmness to it.
I followed Mr Crawford as we advanced through the left corridor. Around the corner, to the right, we found stairs leading up. We climbed and continued in the corridor of the first floor. I stopped once in a while to lean over the balustrade and gaze below at the ground floor. Then, I would hurry back to Mr Crawford's side as he kept on without me. We turned the corner at the end of the First floor and were greeted by a mahogany door. That was rather abrupt. The door had been oiled recently; I could tell by the smell. There were loud voices on the other side of it, but courteous Mr Crawford couldn't care less of it. He knocked on the door, and soon quick footsteps were heard from the other side.
The door opened. The one who greeted us was a lady with brown skin and wavy brown hair. She wore a lace cravat over a white poet blouse and tight black trousers. As soon as she saw Mr Crawford, she yelled, 'Finally! What took you so long?' Her eyes turned to me. 'Hello— My, you are pretty!' Handsome, you mean! I wanted to yell, but I held on for the sake of dignity and grace. 'Sorry for being so abrupt but, we are really busy right now.' She was not lying. I could see boxes full of papers stacked over each other around the desks within. Men and women, dressed similarly to the handsome woman in front, were working through those papers. There was much tension on their faces. Some had sweats and frowns. 'Start of an academic year is always rather chaotic,' she explained. 'I am Alisha Fritz.'
I shook her extended hand. 'Lile Dew,' I said, making my voice sound manlier to the best of my ability.
'You are young for a professor, Mr Dew, and pretty too.'
Again! Handsome, lady! Handsome! I took out the letter Dean had written for me and handed it to Ms Fritz. 'Here, Ms Fritz. Dean sent it for you.'
I admired Ms Fritz a little. She was tall, taller than average-sized men. And I was indeed an average-sized man. To be exact, I was just a little shorter than most men, just a tiny bit. And I was frail. If I hadn't had a good face, my bony state would stand out the most. This was not because of any lack of nutrition. The orphanage mother raised me well. She fed us even if at times she couldn't dress herself. I am simply the kind that struggles to gain weight despite the amount I gobble. But I was willing to rise up to the challenge. After all, a buffet awaited me.
The tall woman received the envelope from me. When she did, I spotted a ring on the ring finger of her left hand, but it seemed neither a wedding ring nor a black one like mine. 'It is miss, correct? Or is it missus?' I asked, curious.
'Alisha for you,' she said with a wink.
Just answer the question, would you, miss? Are you married or not? I won't bother you with advances, I swear. I simply wish to know. 'Call me, Lile, then.'
'I was going to,' she said, turning back to the letter. She read it once. 'Very well, come in— or perhaps not,' she said, seeing the state of her workplace. The room was not very inviting, I agreed. 'I will bring the papers to be signed. I have prepared them in advance.'
She went away and came back with a file in her hands. She made me sign a few papers which I very carefully read despite the piercing gazes of my new acquaintances. After confirming everything was done, Ms Fritz spoke to me. 'Well done. Your pocket watch will work as identification. If you lose it, do not expect a new one. We are not that generous.' I laughed awkwardly. I had indeed wondered how much money this little trinket could gather. 'Charm those kids, and show us some tricks next time,' she said while closing the door as we left.
It was quarter-past nine when we left the Planning Offices. 'No longer must you wait, Mr Dew,' my stout companion said, fixing his hat. 'We will visit the dormitories now. You will have your buffet there.' The thought delighted me. Suddenly, I was filled with gusto. My bones were young once again.
A tram arrived as I was contemplating what marvellous food I will be presenting to my poor belly. I was prepared to jump in as soon as it stopped, but Mr Crawford held my arm. 'This one will take us in the opposite direction, Mr Dew,' he said to me. 'We must wait for the next one. They come intermittently. Sometimes we must change trams once or twice to reach our destination. You will learn all about them once you get settled, until then, ask around. Anyone will help you.'
I doubt it, I thought to myself. Do you know what children are made of? Pure evil. I doubt any would spare a glance at me. 'I will do that,' I said with a smile. The next tram arrived five minutes after the first one. We boarded and in half an hour found ourselves at our destination.
It was a residential area with no tram rails. Instead, like the Planning Offices, there was a canal where the street should be. Footways were narrower, and to cross, there were stone bridges at intervals. The two-storeyed buildings were all similar in structure and look, with only a few, minor changes of note. They were closely stuck together, leaving only enough space for a tree or two. They had balconies on the first floor, while the ground floor had a pergola covered in crimson glory beside which was a little arbour facing the canal. The walls had trellises for green vines that climbed and flowered purple and pink.
'I will be living here?' I asked, half in disbelief. And when a resounding 'yes!' came, I was filled with exhilaration. I could cry and jump in the name of joy, but my heart felt heavy for some reason. I recalled the orphanage mother and the children there. Somehow, my happiness mellowed. I took a breath or two to calm myself and with a smile said to the stout man, 'It is beautiful.'
'Truly. There is a reception room, a bedroom, a study, a kitchen, washrooms, and a storage room. And it is all furnished. You need not buy a single thing for your stay other than clothing, of course. Toiletries will be provided as per your request. Tell the housekeeper what you want, and they will buy it for you. They will keep the larder and kitchen stocked. Your house will be cleaned by the time you arrive from the academy. Leave them a note of all your needs and rest they will handle. Academy pays them.'
'Laundry?'
'That, too, they will do for you. And the kitchen exists solely if you want to cook. The meals will be provided at the pavilions.'
'What pavilions?'
Mr Crawford gestured at a place on the canal where a bridge should be. 'Like that one.' Over the canal littered with red leaves was a pure white pavilion. It had a domed roof. Pillars of white stone supported it. It was built on a bridge wider than others. There was a large marble table inside, around which were placed cushioned chairs and marble stools. On each pillar was a lamp placed.
The academy simply did not stop me from being in awe. 'There are six of them in this place,' Mr Crawford said. 'Dine at the closest one. Dishes will be placed before breakfast and dinner. Take a seat and wait for the staff to bring mouth-watering fare. Lunch will be served at the academy's canteen. That is how it works.' Mr Crawford looked at me. 'My men have informed them of your arrival in advance. I simply need announce it while we have breakfast. Shall we?'
'Why, of course.'
There was no one but only us at the pavilion. It seemed all had breakfasted way before we arrived. We were served boiled eggs, toast, milk, coffee, tea, orange juice, apples, and bacon — a light breakfast common across the country. Mr Crawford was shocked looking at me eat. It seems he was assuming I would eat like a swine. But I was above it. I was a country bumpkin, yes, but I was not without pride and grace. I ate very delicately, without noise or clutter. I thanked the staff when we were done.
For a minute, I simply sat there, feeling full. 'That was a fulfilling breakfast.'
'They will have a proper buffet for you at dinner. Stews and curries and whatnot,' said Mr Crawford. 'You will have to visit a restaurant for lunch today.' He stood up, lightly put the hat on his head, and turned to me, 'I will be leaving now. Rest for the day, Mr Dew. I will meet you in the evening. We will go sort out your businesses. You need proper clothing too.'
It felt awful to be told one lacks of presentable attire, but it did not hold me from proper manners. 'Yes, thank you,' I said. 'You have been most helpful the whole morning.'
'It is what I do.' He reached for his pocket and took out an elongated key. It was connected to a key chain of carved wood. Engraved on both of its sides were letters: One-Seven. 'One-Seven means the seventh house on the second row. It is that one.' He pointed at a house with his chin, and I nodded. 'It is yours from today onwards. Then, I will see you at eve.'
And, while holding his belly, the stout man left.
I left the room after discussing a few details with Dean Wallace Heinz. My gait was a little humbler as I walked towards Mr Crawford, who had been waiting for me with utmost patience. He noticed the chain dangling from the front pocket of my vest and smiled. 'Everything went great, I presume? he asked, patting my shoulder softly.
'Yes. I need to visit the Planning Offices,' I replied.
'Right away,' said my stout companion as he led me out the door. He was as aware of the black-haired man as I was. That sharp glare was still directed at us, even while we retrieved our belongings. I thought to myself, who is he? Security? Bodyguard? Second assistant? Valet? Chauffeur with nothing better to do? Hairdresser— No! Can't be! With that short hair? Definitely not. He has no style. I scoffed, thinking I had any with scuffed shoes and discoloured socks. Oh, they weren't even mine, were they?
As I was thinking of buying a pair of each, we arrived at the familiar fountain. The flock of pigeons had gathered once again, but I vowed to ignore them this time. I was a grown man, you see. Surely, I wouldn't do it again— but I did! I stomped loudly and scared them away. Oh, what fun! Mr Crawford ignored my antics. By now, he must have figured I was capricious, no better than a child.
Soon, we arrived at the grand statue. I asked Mr Crawford, who was waiting for the tram beside me, 'What is the name of this place?'
He curled his moustaches, playing with them. I admired them a little, but truly, he looked funny in them. 'The manor is simply called 'Dean's Manor.' No ingenuity, I know. The square is called 'Wilhelm's Glory.' It was named after Sir Wilhelm Frank, who died defending the institute three hundred and twenty years ago. He was knighted young and died young, they say. He held, with his men, the whole of the academy. He cut and cleaved the barbarians that sailed and landed on our shores to the east; not one did enter the estate with limbs intact.' I admired these stories, and I admired the man who forged them. Soon, the tram arrived. 'Let us board,' said Mr Crawford. And so, we did.
I checked the hour on my new pocket watch, trying impetuously to dazzle the gathering of students around me. It was a very subtle way of making them envious, I believed. The watch showed half-past eight. It was about time for breakfast, and my belly spared no effort to remind me of it.
It was at the time when I was about to stash the beautiful piece of ticking silver in my pocket that I discovered direct glances at me. Assuming it as their jealousy, I revelled in glory. But that was not so. I could read on their faces their prevailing thoughts. They were curious, not about the watch but about me. Right, I thought. Only the teaching staff wears these. So, are you curious about what I am here for, what I am to teach? Wait, why do you investigate my face so cautiously? Do you believe me incapable of teaching? You discern that from one glance at my face? How rude! I have been told I have a good face. My mother used to say I am the most handsome boy in the neighbourhood! And let me tell you, she was no liar!
Even the girls at the orphanage and the orphanage mother used to call me pretty. Now, I disagree with that. I am handsome, not pretty. But a compliment must be appreciated. Oh, perhaps you wonder how come this boyish (I have been called that. Unbelievable, don't you agree?) boor is a professor? Well, I shall forgive you. I am generous, after all.
As I was thinking how good of a person I am, we arrived at our location. I looked at the watch. It had only been twenty minutes. 'That was quick,' I said, exiting the yellow vehicle.
'We are in the inner sector. Important venues are here. It is a large place, yes, but not larger than the outer sector.' I nodded along to Mr Crawford's speech, enjoying the scenery. I liked this place a lot. All the roofs were painted either grey or brown while every house had been built with stone. I wondered how magnificent this place must look from a high place, a hill or something similar. Perhaps I may yet be able to take a glance from atop that spire of the library.
I saw flowerpots of different colours and vines that covered windows and roofs. There was a white cat basking in the nice weather atop the rail of a balcony. As we walked through these narrow streets, I saw crowds going about their business. None of them looked poor or hard-handed. Most were dressed in uniforms. I saw children in black shirts, blue ties, blue double-breasted suits, blue trousers for men, and black ones for ladies. They also had earrings, headbands, and ribbons.
'We are here,' said the stout man while leaving the alley after what seemed like a five-minute stroll. There, on the bank of a canal, across the small stone bridge, was a three-storey building coloured in white.
'Where did this canal come from?' I exclaimed, finding it rather ridiculous.
'It runs through the underground tunnels, under the narrow streets,' Mr Crawford explained, leading me across the bridge. 'The tunnels open in very few places, like this here. This is how water is supplied to the buildings.' The water was clear and shone a brilliant golden by the grace of the sun's rays. It was blinding, a little uncomfortable but beautiful. I quickly ran to Mr Crawford's side, finding him way ahead of me. When I reached him, we were one step inside the white building.
What greeted me was a large courtyard with a statue of a woman in a loose gown carrying a wooden bucket filled with water. Sparrows and flinches were bathing in the bucket. I saw men heaving boxes along the balustrade on the first floor. The building had many windows when seen from the outside. I thought there should be as many chambers, but I was proven wrong. There was a corridor to both of our sides. I could see the outside from its many windows. There were short curtains and flowerpots around each of them. It was not luxurious like the Dean's Manor, but it had a certain calmness to it.
I followed Mr Crawford as we advanced through the left corridor. Around the corner, to the right, we found stairs leading up. We climbed and continued in the corridor of the first floor. I stopped once in a while to lean over the balustrade and gaze below at the ground floor. Then, I would hurry back to Mr Crawford's side as he kept on without me. We turned the corner at the end of the First floor and were greeted by a mahogany door. That was rather abrupt. The door had been oiled recently; I could tell by the smell. There were loud voices on the other side of it, but courteous Mr Crawford couldn't care less of it. He knocked on the door, and soon quick footsteps were heard from the other side.
The door opened. The one who greeted us was a lady with brown skin and wavy brown hair. She wore a lace cravat over a white poet blouse and tight black trousers. As soon as she saw Mr Crawford, she yelled, 'Finally! What took you so long?' Her eyes turned to me. 'Hello— My, you are pretty!' Handsome, you mean! I wanted to yell, but I held on for the sake of dignity and grace. 'Sorry for being so abrupt but, we are really busy right now.' She was not lying. I could see boxes full of papers stacked over each other around the desks within. Men and women, dressed similarly to the handsome woman in front, were working through those papers. There was much tension on their faces. Some had sweats and frowns. 'Start of an academic year is always rather chaotic,' she explained. 'I am Alisha Fritz.'
I shook her extended hand. 'Lile Dew,' I said, making my voice sound manlier to the best of my ability.
'You are young for a professor, Mr Dew, and pretty too.'
Again! Handsome, lady! Handsome! I took out the letter Dean had written for me and handed it to Ms Fritz. 'Here, Ms Fritz. Dean sent it for you.'
I admired Ms Fritz a little. She was tall, taller than average-sized men. And I was indeed an average-sized man. To be exact, I was just a little shorter than most men, just a tiny bit. And I was frail. If I hadn't had a good face, my bony state would stand out the most. This was not because of any lack of nutrition. The orphanage mother raised me well. She fed us even if at times she couldn't dress herself. I am simply the kind that struggles to gain weight despite the amount I gobble. But I was willing to rise up to the challenge. After all, a buffet awaited me.
The tall woman received the envelope from me. When she did, I spotted a ring on the ring finger of her left hand, but it seemed neither a wedding ring nor a black one like mine. 'It is miss, correct? Or is it missus?' I asked, curious.
'Alisha for you,' she said with a wink.
Just answer the question, would you, miss? Are you married or not? I won't bother you with advances, I swear. I simply wish to know. 'Call me, Lile, then.'
'I was going to,' she said, turning back to the letter. She read it once. 'Very well, come in— or perhaps not,' she said, seeing the state of her workplace. The room was not very inviting, I agreed. 'I will bring the papers to be signed. I have prepared them in advance.'
She went away and came back with a file in her hands. She made me sign a few papers which I very carefully read despite the piercing gazes of my new acquaintances. After confirming everything was done, Ms Fritz spoke to me. 'Well done. Your pocket watch will work as identification. If you lose it, do not expect a new one. We are not that generous.' I laughed awkwardly. I had indeed wondered how much money this little trinket could gather. 'Charm those kids, and show us some tricks next time,' she said while closing the door as we left.
It was quarter-past nine when we left the Planning Offices. 'No longer must you wait, Mr Dew,' my stout companion said, fixing his hat. 'We will visit the dormitories now. You will have your buffet there.' The thought delighted me. Suddenly, I was filled with gusto. My bones were young once again.
A tram arrived as I was contemplating what marvellous food I will be presenting to my poor belly. I was prepared to jump in as soon as it stopped, but Mr Crawford held my arm. 'This one will take us in the opposite direction, Mr Dew,' he said to me. 'We must wait for the next one. They come intermittently. Sometimes we must change trams once or twice to reach our destination. You will learn all about them once you get settled, until then, ask around. Anyone will help you.'
I doubt it, I thought to myself. Do you know what children are made of? Pure evil. I doubt any would spare a glance at me. 'I will do that,' I said with a smile. The next tram arrived five minutes after the first one. We boarded and in half an hour found ourselves at our destination.
It was a residential area with no tram rails. Instead, like the Planning Offices, there was a canal where the street should be. Footways were narrower, and to cross, there were stone bridges at intervals. The two-storeyed buildings were all similar in structure and look, with only a few, minor changes of note. They were closely stuck together, leaving only enough space for a tree or two. They had balconies on the first floor, while the ground floor had a pergola covered in crimson glory beside which was a little arbour facing the canal. The walls had trellises for green vines that climbed and flowered purple and pink.
'I will be living here?' I asked, half in disbelief. And when a resounding 'yes!' came, I was filled with exhilaration. I could cry and jump in the name of joy, but my heart felt heavy for some reason. I recalled the orphanage mother and the children there. Somehow, my happiness mellowed. I took a breath or two to calm myself and with a smile said to the stout man, 'It is beautiful.'
'Truly. There is a reception room, a bedroom, a study, a kitchen, washrooms, and a storage room. And it is all furnished. You need not buy a single thing for your stay other than clothing, of course. Toiletries will be provided as per your request. Tell the housekeeper what you want, and they will buy it for you. They will keep the larder and kitchen stocked. Your house will be cleaned by the time you arrive from the academy. Leave them a note of all your needs and rest they will handle. Academy pays them.'
'Laundry?'
'That, too, they will do for you. And the kitchen exists solely if you want to cook. The meals will be provided at the pavilions.'
'What pavilions?'
Mr Crawford gestured at a place on the canal where a bridge should be. 'Like that one.' Over the canal littered with red leaves was a pure white pavilion. It had a domed roof. Pillars of white stone supported it. It was built on a bridge wider than others. There was a large marble table inside, around which were placed cushioned chairs and marble stools. On each pillar was a lamp placed.
The academy simply did not stop me from being in awe. 'There are six of them in this place,' Mr Crawford said. 'Dine at the closest one. Dishes will be placed before breakfast and dinner. Take a seat and wait for the staff to bring mouth-watering fare. Lunch will be served at the academy's canteen. That is how it works.' Mr Crawford looked at me. 'My men have informed them of your arrival in advance. I simply need announce it while we have breakfast. Shall we?'
'Why, of course.'
There was no one but only us at the pavilion. It seemed all had breakfasted way before we arrived. We were served boiled eggs, toast, milk, coffee, tea, orange juice, apples, and bacon — a light breakfast common across the country. Mr Crawford was shocked looking at me eat. It seems he was assuming I would eat like a swine. But I was above it. I was a country bumpkin, yes, but I was not without pride and grace. I ate very delicately, without noise or clutter. I thanked the staff when we were done.
For a minute, I simply sat there, feeling full. 'That was a fulfilling breakfast.'
'They will have a proper buffet for you at dinner. Stews and curries and whatnot,' said Mr Crawford. 'You will have to visit a restaurant for lunch today.' He stood up, lightly put the hat on his head, and turned to me, 'I will be leaving now. Rest for the day, Mr Dew. I will meet you in the evening. We will go sort out your businesses. You need proper clothing too.'
It felt awful to be told one lacks of presentable attire, but it did not hold me from proper manners. 'Yes, thank you,' I said. 'You have been most helpful the whole morning.'
'It is what I do.' He reached for his pocket and took out an elongated key. It was connected to a key chain of carved wood. Engraved on both of its sides were letters: One-Seven. 'One-Seven means the seventh house on the second row. It is that one.' He pointed at a house with his chin, and I nodded. 'It is yours from today onwards. Then, I will see you at eve.'
And, while holding his belly, the stout man left.
