For the first five months of the new academic turn the electrifying rush of novelty mellowed fast into the normality of  the routine curriculum.

Perfection of reading and writing, nd physical training were a must for all; the girls were segregated into being taught different support roles, while the boys into varying martial disciplines. 

For the newest students the pressure mounted the more the cold air became thick as the half-year exams came fast and sputtered off, the first set of serious trials they would undertake in their lives.

For the intermittent student body, it seemed like they were caught in a fixed whirlpool - the world around them changed, but they stayed the same.

For the graduating class, it still seemed unreal that they were a few months away from never seeing each other again, though it was not a hard prospect to imagine, for the ones no longer with them were fading fast in conversation and in memory.

Before the half-year exam period, among small groups, in hushed whispers, in between classes and before the lights were out, money was collected, invitations doled out, and plans adjusted. During free days, packs of neatly groomed and grinning partisans ventured to the nearby farms, the station stores, and the discrete liquor vendors to secure trade deals for specific items on a future date. 

With the exam period gone, the collective mood jolted back into a boiling pressure that staved off the freezing winds.

As the first flurries of snow blew and melted away The Celebration of High Light of Early Morning would soon be at hand.

Once the time for lit canals  and humbled reverence ended the pains and worries of the year burned in the umbral festivities.

In charge of the guard for the first night at the academy was the old major and a dapper professor, his long-time colleague who found his civilian clothes more fitting when not upholding his duties; or at least, his civilian coat and worker's cap he bought out of necessity, appropriate social convention be damned.

"Do you ever stop working?" The old major asked as the sharp featured man as he fixed the brown-blond hair off his eyes to better continue writing on the pile of documents on his desk.

"I can rest when I die, old sport. Besides, the night patrol will invigorate me just before going to bed, so why not earn my tiresome sleep?"

"You and every other that I have ever met with such a mentality always end up the same - men too old and too ghoulish long before they are burred  in the ground. You think you're encased to that chair of yours? You might just end up there, and you will find vigor staring at the corner quite the luxury."

"Major, you're scaring the children."

"What children?"

The dapper professor simply nodded with a smirk.

"You want to be tired, eh? I got just the thing..."

Reaching underneath his bed the major pulled out his small trunk and rummaging through his simple undergarments and personal trinkets pulled out a clear bottle in yellow labels filled with bright crimson liquid. The professor's eyes sparkled and his face animated with greed, building up moisture in his mouth.

Without waiting for his colleague's input the major produced two shot glasses and poured the sickeningly sweet yet faintly acrid liquid just enough to be consumed with the tongue.

The two slowly sipped the contents, savoring every last drop like the last they would ever sample.

"When we're done with the inspection, we can drink it all and sleep merry until late."

"What? Ignore the morning roll call?"

"It's the same with the old as it is with the young. Tonight we are permitted to be rascals. Why else do you think the stuporous drinks have not been outright forbidden?"

"Mmh, you ought to have been a correctioner."

The two began to make their rounds, with the cold air turning exhaled breath in a thick white smoke yet just warm that one may huddle by a crackling fire, of which there were a few around the barrack grounds where private parties among friends slumped in mellowed exhaustion.

Amidst the scent of burnt meat fat, arguably baked dough, and scented boiled alcohol, the professor, huddling himself with one hand and holding on to a lamp with another, approached the more sleepy groups and ordered them to go to bed.

"Enjoying your evening gentlemen!"

The last group he inspected were a duo of tall final year students - a black haired one bandaged up as if he'd been through a brutal battle, and a dirty blond one with a belt pouch where he stuffed his sharpened charcoal just before greeting with a salute.

"Sir! At your comman...!"

"At ease, you two, at ease. Cadet, I understand this is a military academy, but if you must prove yourself to be an eternal soldier would it be too much of an inconvenience to keep your body in good condition?"

"Sir! It was a bad judgement of mine, it won't happen again!"

"Yes, I see. But first you must decipher when you are spoken to in jest and when it is serious. How about you? When will you learn that you must trade your smears and ink for knives and bayonets?"

"...You are right sir! Let me make amends for this indiscretion!"

"You can start by helping your friend put the fire out and heading to bed. Off you go."

Further along in the round, the professor encountered an unsightly scene in the quad. The son of one of the more wealthy aristocrats was face down with red caked all over his head.

Upon checking for signs of life of the young man, the professor noticed something peculiar about the dark red ichor. Taking a chance, he took a sample from the forehead and placed it in his mouth. To his relief, it was some form of confectionery paste. The aristocratic young man did not even have so much as a scratch.

Still, it was imprudent to just leave the cadet asleep out in the field. The professor looked up and, by mere chance, two other cadets in winter cloaks were passing by.

"You two! Over here!"

"Run! Run!"

"Wha...GET BACK HERE!"

He had heard that voice before when dedicating a peculiar lesson about logistics to a very unique class as a cursory introduction. Under the supervision of the headmistress of the female student body, there was a first-year student who was rather timid and nervously suspicious of those in her class.

And even on this night, she had no business being on this side of the academy.

The professor chased the duo trying to blow the whistle, which as proving difficult to do if he wanted to catch up fast. Towards a nearby wood the duo ran, and one of the figures got caught in the undergrowth. Without hesitation, the figure pushed its other compatriot forward and motioned to continue on. After one long look, the other one ran away.

Having caught up, the professor yanked the trapped figure by scruff of the neck and brought themselves out in grass.

"Take the cloak off or I will do it for you!"

Much to his misfortune, a rogue cloud arrived and covered the moon, masking the identity of the figure.

"Identify yourself, now!"

The figure motioned to something wrapped around the head while mumbling with the mouth closed. Given the depth of the noise, the professor at least concluded that it was a male cadet who was at his mercy.

"Professor! The headmistress needs to see you now!"

One of the female students shouted from behind. Rather than bring the unknown male student with him, the professor scribbled out a sanction on a note slip and handed it to the mute cadet.

"You may think you have escaped, but here's your sanction nonetheless. Take your punishment like a man. We WILL find you out if you do not, and then it will be worse, understand?"

The professor was ushered towards one of the girls' dormitories where the headmistress waited outside the commons holding a discipline rod and  a few of the female students lined up against the wall. Inside the commons were more students with such miserable faces it seemed like their lives were about to end violently.

"I apologize for this inconvenience, but we were wondering about the whereabouts of one particular student."

A few of the students in the room stepped forward.

"Sir, we were here and all of a sudden our princess just disappeared. We already looked everywhere in the dorm but could not find here."

"She'd never do something like this!"

"What do you suppose happened?"

The professor rubbed his eyes out as the frustration swelled his vision into a fog.

"If it's whom I think you're speaking about...I'll keep an eye out for her. And what of those three on the wall?"

"Oh, they have nothing to do with this affair, so do not bother. They'll just wish they were not so misbehaved when their hands go raw from the amount of work they'll endure."

Two of the girls, a white blond with reading glasses and a brown haired whose hot-cold face remained even as her voice winced at the imminent sanction, turned around to plead their case. The third one, whose black hair had two side buns, remained looking at the wall resigned to her fate. The professor could barely understand what it was the pleading girls were saying - something about "not us" and "being lied to." They were quickly reeled back to facing the wall when the headmistress raised here cane with one motion away of swiping it down on their cheeks.

"My apologies for that. There was some incident with one of the girls, the one whom is always humble and a dear, yes? She was found in a most deplorable state by one of the second-year girls, all pale and presumably wounded in some way..."

"Ma'am? The doctor is looking for you."

So the headmistress and her quarry left with the aforementioned second-year girl, a bright blond long haired maiden whose glasses were encased in a luxurious red frame.

Returning back to his proper segregation the professor encountered the one cadet the other boys hailed as a savvy loquitur with a mind fixed in diligence, unconsciously spread over branch whose barren branches pierced his clothes and would not let him free. The more the professor yanked hard and smacked the cheeks of the cadet the more his hands stained with a sticky film.

*Crack*

The sound was nearby, and it was then that the professor noticed the nearby buildings - more barrack dorms for the cadets, and to their right end, a separate building meant for their showering needs.

*Crack*

His eyes fixated on said building and immediately got his alarm whistle ready. There were more crackling noises, and all over the grass there were many other students lying contorted and twisted impregnated with the smell of liquor. As he approached the entrance the incoherent singing coming from inside grew louder until the moment the open door let in the cold air, where it reached a harmoniously mad chorus. 

Throughout the main changing room and in the adjacent shower rooms had passed out cadets mired in water, strong drink, and vomit, and once cheerful drunks slowly sobered at the presence of the horrified professor. Where the main party room was held was so full of cadets the professor just about managed to fit past the threshold but no more; all of those inside realized that their celebration, for all the planning and investment done, was over. At the far end was one particular cadet, a short haired blond in a white-with-black uniform with a blue sash and the epaulets of a first lieutenant minus the star to denote proper rank, raised on a chair held by the more taller and stronger cadets.

The face, barely illuminated by candlelight, was not necessary for the professor to see to come to the conclusion that it was the one slated to be the honor student at graduation, and the fact that a few of the students removed their shirts and coats to further obstruct the sight was proof enough that the one on the chair was a well respected individual.

"We...we're just having a meeting in the shower room...nothing more."

From behind the covers the cadet collapsed to the ground with a grunt flattened by the impact on the tiles.

Before the whistle touched the professor's lips his eyes burned with doused liquor as the cadets reached to snap the instrument and the candles snuffed away.

In the struggle some of the blacked-out cadets aroused in pain as boots kicked and stomped them out of the intoxication. In the void, punches hurled and bodies slammed against one another, and every piece of tether or neck collar that a finger brushed upon ripped apart in desperate, inebriated frenzy.

Feet kicked sluggishly high and straight, swipes at the groin were made, anything to stop the whistle from blowing.

A fruitless endeavor.

The alert whistle blew hard and erratically as it disappeared into the night.

The cadets scrambled out and lost themselves amidst the many others snuffing out their fires or coming out of their head-thumping sleep as alert drums banged and bugles called. The remainder of the night degenerated into the privates on guard herding and reeling what amounted to unruly cats in various states of sobriety. No one bothered to give the morning call as the incident surpassed the sense of time.

With as much formality as the disheveled and squinting eyed professors could muster the inquisition at the commandant's office went under way with the two in charge of the guard and some of the faculty.

"It was a riot, sir commandant! In all my years under uniform I never had to endorse such proscription."

"I agree, but we cannot punish the whole of the academy. It would be an embarrassment..."

"Sir, I would like to make special emphasize to the bathhouse. Every single one of them deserves punishment at the least."

"Do you realize what it is you are suggesting?!"

"This is a military academy, not a social club! We do not allow favoritism to mire our judgement!"

"Enough! All of you!"

The commandant fiddled with his fingers as his eyes squinted more from the pressure.

The headmistress steadied herself to ask.

"Sir, and what about the girls? What happened last night, especially with the missing..."

"As soon as the list is brought up you will know."

After an undisclosed amount of time, but what was unbearably long, a private entered with one cadet held by the ruff of the neck.

"We found one of those ones responsible for the damages to the main storehouse."

The accused, a cadet in white undergarment overalls and boots, was just as equally disheveled as the exhausted faculty.

"You lie to us, or I even suspect you are lying to us, I promise you that you will be walking out that door a civilian. Now what say you?!"

"Sir, me and the others were...we volunteered to keep the storehouse clean before the beginning of the break period. When we finished we found the entrance locked and..."

"That justified what you did, is that it?"

The cadet nodded in negation. It took awhile for the commandant to respond after huffing in great frustration.

"Who was the one who commissioned you to be in the storehouse?"

The cadet produced a slip with the orders so worn and wet even the signature was smeared.

"Were you given this personally?"

"No sir! We were handed this after the morning assembly."

The commandant tapped his fingers on the rich red wooden desk before dismissing the private and the cadet without much exchanged. Just as he left another cadet, uniformed and in recently polished boots, entered with a file folder and handed it to the commandant, all stern and serious as any well drilled soldier.

"Why not just make him an actual deputy at this point?"

"We do not compensate dubious failings at birth with lofty unearned ranks. This is the Army!"

The other faculty snickered and laughed, and as they calmed down, the commandant opened the folder.

"In here, we have a list of the worst offenders, based off of everyone's reports. Seventy-five in total...Twenty of these? We won't ever see them again, among them...You can guess for what reasons, so I'm sure that will suffice your worries. Fair enough? The others will be mandated towards volunteer work in the neighboring community if they ever want to earn their sword and baton. Before I disclose the names, I'll look at them first."

So he mumbled to himself on while checking the list.

"Yes, fair enough...Wait, I know this one. The die-hard? What is he supposed to be responsible for? Being too hysterical when alerting the guards?"

The others grumbled or made humorous huffs at such a notion. When he finished the commandant began crossing out a few names off the list.

"The names I cross out...I'm sure we can ALL agree that their indiscretions were lamentable, but rather difficult to finger culpability..."

The dapper professor interjected.

"Sir, about the graduating class's honor student - it was obvious he had a hand in what occurred last night. DIRECT hand. Don't spare him."

The commandant was lost in thought for a short while before breathing deeply.

"Would you excuse us?"

The others in the meeting saluted before exiting.

"The most important thing, now, is the preservation of the institution, under all circumstances."

"Sir, it was a wild night, I understand, but I'm sure we're not in that much of a dramatic..."

"What I'm going to do next I had hoped that it would be done with a more exceptional call to unity, but it seems that it will not be so. You and the major were in charge of the guard last night. Therefore the fault must fall on you."

"Sir, I can accept my capabilities where applic..."

"Just you."

The professor's thoughts fizzled away with no clear point from where to start again.

"No one would believe it if it were said that there was no way to put order in quick succession, and no one would take it seriously if the major was punished as well. You don't bring the heavy rod against seniority. Of course, your sanction will be light as a feather. You will no longer be put up for guard duty, among certain other loss of duties, and that would be it."

"You expect me to stamp my own honor against the ground? Sir?!"

"Now listen - this is the Army, and sacrifices must be made. It may seem unfair now, but you will only see repercussions up to your level. You won't see what may befall further up and I do not expect you to."

The commandant got up and placed the list down in front of the professor.

"I now give you the crucible of your loyalty - you will write names to compensate for the ones...that never were. Perhaps start with the injured cadet on your first encounter."

"What? Why him?"

"Come now. I'm sure most of your colleagues were expecting for this to happen after such a farce performed."

"What is your stake in that affair that you wish to make such a retroactive punishment?"

"None. It is just a suggestion."

He grabbed two small hourglasses from his desk with a "10" carved on either end and flipped both, leaving on next to the list.

"When you are done, leave the quill in the bottle. Thank you."

The commandant slowly closed the door and left the professor alone, and the slowly creaking wood felt more insulting all the more for it. With a numbing mind, painfully tense hands, and pressure in his eyes, the professor took his cap off and flung it against the wall, doing all he could to blow the air out of his lungs before he made a further spectacle of it all.