#chapter i: the freesia festifall

[st-voisins]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄.

𝓒𝓸𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽 & 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓮𝓼𝓲𝓪 𝓕𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓯𝓪𝓵𝓵

WELCOME! WELCOME!

To the mountainous and inconceivably small and all the normality in between it comes once more that the wrought gates of St. Voisins' swing themselves open and your beloved cars kick you to the curb with their new sentience! Above in cloud-spotted skies the leathery flapping of wings beats into your heart like a knight of old, a lance that strikes and reminds you that you are indeed on the grounds of somewhere whimsical and mystical. Set down your bags and watch as the troll-like caretakers of the grounds haul them away with no promise of return ! Here you are welcome to explore that aura within you that sets you apart from the world, a special thing indeed. Welcome, to St. Voisin's Academy for Witches!

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆:

Please meet us on the Green in front of St. Aching Hall and to the south of Lake Dior. There, the Courtyard will be adorned in various fall dressings, in addition to a stage, where upon the Commencement Proceedings shall be made, and rows of Club Stands and other Festival goodies. After the Commencement announcements, students are welcomed to tour the grounds to join various clubs, inquire about the Order of Apollonian Apostles, bob for poison apples, attempt to outsmart this year’s volunteer, Professor Di Agotini’s, barrier spells and dunk him in the tank, play a round of capture the flag, race the sirens of Lake Dior, etc.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀:

First, Headmistress Xu will make a welcome speech and inspire hope about this school year. Next, the Student Body President voted upon last semester shall make her first speech to her constituents, followed by the Vice President. From there, a current Praetor will make their welcome speech and announce any new additions and provide their pins. Finally, the Commencement Proceedings will end with an announcement that this year is quite special, as it is a Tournament year. Afterwards, students are invited to enjoy the Freesia Festifall.

WELCOME! WELCOME!

To the mountainous and inconceivably small and all the normality in between it comes once more that the wrought gates of St. Voisins' swing themselves open and your beloved cars kick you to the curb with their new sentience! Above in cloud-spotted skies the leathery flapping of wings beats into your heart like a knight of old, a lance that strikes and reminds you that you are indeed on the grounds of somewhere whimsical and mystical. Set down your bags and watch as the troll-like caretakers of the grounds haul them away with no promise of return ! Here you are welcome to explore that aura within you that sets you apart from the world, a special thing indeed. Welcome to St. Voisin's Academy for Witches!

Upon your luggage being swept away, you’ll be directed further along the trail of Fre Forest, which opens up to a voracious thunder. The knolling campus courtyard is full of wonder and merriment, seemingly all for you to enjoy. A spinning wheel, larger than you thought any moving structure possible, shoots up towards the sky and brings people to new heights. On the other side of the yard, towards Lake Dior, there is a glowing carousel with enchanted beasts of all variety, including toadstools, frogs, unicorns, and you spot even a strange one that looks close to the Grumsters that carted away your belongings. Squinting your eyes, you see that lining the rest of the trail you walk upon are rows and rows of tents, some with rudimentary labels indicating they’re for clubs or other campus activities. Some, it seems are even for more of the carnival games that fit the theme of the day’s proceedings, including a dunk-tank with a mysterious chihuahua sitting atop it. 

A great roar fills the arena as the faculty lining your path direct you forward, all dressed in robes so irregularly formal that you almost wish you had dressed better. The insecurity does not have time to grip you as you look up, startled, and find the noise was not a recording from one of the various rides. No, you look up and see the fictional become literal. 

“That’s Tohra,” Professor Walis murmurs to you as you stop short next to her. “That roar wasn’t from her, though. It was her husband.” 

A spindle-prick point towards a luminescent cave carved in the side of the mountain. You gasp.  A three-headed beast. “Kéhri. Isn’t he beautiful?” You nod, not quite sure what to make of a tri-maned lion, before you start to move on. 

Cheers erupt from the crowd gathered before the ornate stage constructed in front of the steps to St. Aching Hall. You had read about this and had perhaps imagined something similar when you made your campus visit. Of course, you hadn’t imagined it being like this. A three-times human-sized, burgundy and mucusy slug murmurs at a microphone, frowning at Tohra, who makes another release of flame, striking stars into the students’ eyes like shooting stars. As you become one with the rest of the body, not even you can avoid being impressed and moved by the display. 

It is short-lived as Headmistress Xu shrinks into her human form, realizing her impression is a lost-cause with Tohra around to shoot fireworks in the sky. Grumbling, she catches everyone’s attention as the mic amplifies her prominence.

“Welcome, welcome. St. Voisin’s welcomes you. If you’re one of our brave First-Years, you might be confused as to what all this fanfare is. Perhaps you might even want to settle in and sti down,” she gives an empathizing smile. “As you’ll grow used to, witches have an innate disdain for the dismal or routine. Your warrior’s hearts will run amuck on this campus. Starting today, right now. Welcome to the Freesia Festifall.” 

The Headmistress widens her stance and opens an arm in equal spirit. Then, she smiles with a small chuckle, “Unfortunately, before we can delve into the spoils, we must run through the dismal traditions.”

Clearing her throat once more, she unfolds a sheet of prim-typed paper, lined with sluggy membrane, and holds it a sharp distance from her face. Convulsed into an odd expression, she squints before going, “Ah yes!” Finally, after some more enthusiastic shuffling, she clears her throat once more and begins:

“The University of St. Voisin has stood since the dawn of humanity’s triumph. It exists well beyond our memories, beyond any text of history, and yet, we know it has stood for centuries. A homestead for those imbued with gifts beyond our comprehension, St. Voisin’s has served as a refuge for the magical kind and a stimulant for scholastic knowledge. She is just as mysterious as the otherworldly miasma that flows through us, and yet, here we stand. And yet, we triumph onward.”

She pauses, glancing across a sea of faces, and perhaps you wonder for a moment if she spots you in the crowd. 

“This year, you will triumph in your own ways. Perhaps, even bigger ones, too, if you find yourself lucky enough to have a professor take you on as a researcher. You will grow victorious over the domains that once restrained you, from the mastery of potionscraft to the elusive art of print-making or violin restringing. Mathematics might be your call, where you might find Professor Brunscoe more of a challenge than his calc-based physics course.”

Good-natured giggles flowed amongst the crowd, and the victim-professor readjusts his glasses and smiles with a wave. The Headmistress nods to him, beaming.

“Above all, you will prove yourself a battle-end to the challenges that arise. You will be a victor. You will be a Scholar.”

It appears that the Headmistress has a flare for the melodrama, as she pauses for effect. 

“Above all, we hope you find a respite, a camaraderie, a barracks, and even a jousting-round at St. Voisin’s. Welcome to the Fall Semester of 1949!”

A round of applause, and some hollers from the upperclassmen. Jubilee blossoms amongst the students, and the Headmistress waits for it to calm so she might conduct the chorus once more. 

“Now, we will more on to speeches by your elected President, Violetta Williams, and Vice President, Katherine Dubois. This will then be followed by the induction of our newest Praetors with speeches given by Murn Praetor Rahna and Zoi Praetor Arturio Ibrahim-Montoya.”

Once the speeches have been completed, with the Praetors now properly pinned, Headmistress Xu steps up to the microphone once more. 

“Thank you, Rahna and Arturio for those lovely… ahem… speeches. And to our representatives, Miss Williams and Miss Dubois. I see why our electorate picked you two to head our school’s society.” 

A lull nestles amongst the crowd, befuddled as to why the Headmistress hasn’t set them free. Others, perhaps those more ambitious, know exactly why she has paused. As if sensing the equal-mix of unease and salivation, she gives a fox-hound smirk. 

“This year, we are beholden to a Julian Leap Year. I’m sure many of you already know what that means, but for my brow-furrowed friends, I will explain.” 

Some shuffling, with a professor passing something shiny on a velveteen plush, and the Headmistress hoists up an ornate diadem. Encrusted at its crown with a sun being swallowed by a moon, the baroque design hosts gold curtains composed of coins emblazoned with all sorts of Spirits, from the ones representative of the Houses to other, stranger ones. Unknown. A hush befalls the students, no longer twittering and mumbling about how boring Commencement can be. Dainty leaves forged by alchemic means encircle the diadem, appearing almost as weak as the natural ones that float in the breeze. 

“This is the Galdre Laurel. For all of you, it will be your first time seeing it first hand. It won’t be your last. For some of you, it may be last witnessed amongst your peers as bejeweling your head. Wouldn’t that be nifty?” 

Headmistress Xu places the victory wreath on its ceremonial pillow before continuing, “A Weihand Tournament is upon us, and this autumn, we will see who Fates chooses as its Champion. Only ten of the thirty chosen will be crowned Decimpas Champions. Only one will be the Galdre, the ultimate victor. And only the Galdre will receive all the spoils of war, along with the responsibility of battle.”

An ominous tone rings out, throaty and gilt. Headmistress Xu’s gaze narrows, but she quickly recovers with a smile. 

“By the start of October, we shall see exactly who Fate calls forth, and by the end of the academic year, we will see who serves in Its stead.” 

The heady air rises towards the heavens with these words. The students are back to mumbling kinetically, thirsty for Fate to show its hand. It appears even the Headmistress is stunned, confused as to why not even a single conduit has shown its Spirit’s hide. She shakes it off, deciding that such an oddity is purely coincidental, that habits do not always play out especially regarding Fate. 

“Alright!” Pliant eyes recede back to her. “I send you Scholars off now on the Semester Ship. Before, however, partake in the plunders we have to offer: join a club, harass a professor, ride the carousel, and eat cotton candy until you’re silly. Welcome to St. Voisin’s!”

In a spectacular display, the Headmistress lets loose a bundle of rose petals tucked in her sleeves. They sink too soon, covered in slug-slime, though the applause is still hearty, the excitement palpable. Tohra lets a flame ring, and Xu tosses back a glare before leaving the stage.