Fredric navigated the bustling streets of Lower Babel, his signature red hoodie peeking out from beneath a black bomber jacket. It stood out vividly against the sea of gray and blue, refracting and scattering his image in a kaleidoscope of puddles, storefronts, and windows. The loud footsteps of the faceless crowd echoed around him as he slowly made his way toward the Babel Royal Academy's main corpus—a grand cathedral that had been expanded over time, sprouting intertwining halls and bridges etched in cold metallic glare.

As he traversed these labyrinthine corridors, Fredric absorbed their manufactured atmosphere. The polished wooden floors and pastel walls felt like a bandage over a festering wound. Here, chaos, pain, and suffering were conceived, and now that they existed, they would continue to fester within this wretched nest for eternity—or at least for as long as the nest remained.

Venturing deeper, he noticed students scattered about like worker ants. Some were cleaning; others rallied for their extracurricular duties—all striving, without a doubt, for even the slightest chance at a better future.

"What a bland Sunday for a teenager, spent in service of a so-called brighter tomorrow," Fredric mused.

Suddenly, a lone student approached—a tall, well-built youth, undoubtedly a knight in training.

"What are you doing here? Outsiders aren't allowed on academy premises," he remarked.

"What makes you think I'm an outsider?" Fredric smirked.

"Your attire. Even if you're not an outsider, there's a strict dress code when entering the academy," the youth responded, visibly annoyed.

"A stickler for rules, eh?" Fredric thought. "Then how come no one stopped me at the entrance?" he asked, provoking the young man further.

"Look, I don't make the rules! Let me escort you out while I'm still being nice," the boy frowned.

"What's your name?" Fredric asked, unfazed.

"Keith," the young man replied sternly.

Fredric's eyes widened ever so slightly. "Are you perhaps a second-year in the Bloom Department?" he inquired.

"Yes, how do you know?" Keith wondered.

"Well, Keith, you and I have a mutual acquaintance. They've told me a lot about you," Fredric smirked.

"What? Who?" the boy asked, curiosity mingling with suspicion.

"Well, it's a secret. However, seeing how helpful you've been in informing me about the academy's rules, I suppose I'll make an exception," Fredric paused. "It's Zeke Ventrew," he continued, casually walking past the boy.

"Zeke?!" Keith shouted. "B-but he disappeared eight months ago!"

"Well, he's coming back," Fredric remarked, leaving Keith in a state of stupor as guilt washed over his face like a storm cloud.

Eventually, Fredric reached the faculty wing—a modern structure adorned with hanging terraces designed to let in as much light as possible. The building housed the administrative offices of the academy—a place where all the staff gathered and where documents were processed. It connected to the main campus via a metal-framed suspension bridge encased in glass, hovering like a gleaming artery.

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Fredric wandered briefly before finding the registration office, where new students got their documents in order and ordered new uniforms.

"Hello," Fredric said, stepping in and waving at the bureaucratically dressed woman seated inside a glass-enclosed office.

"Hello," the woman replied. "Are you a new student looking to get registered?"

"Is it that obvious?" Fredric giggled, taking a seat on a translucent plastic chair in front of her.

"Considering what you're wearing, you're either a new student or an intruder," the woman sighed. "I hope you know it's against academy rules to be here in casual clothes. In fact, I shouldn't even let you in like this."

"Oh, I'm sure you can make a small exception," Fredric leaned in slightly, his eyes meeting hers. "It'll be our little secret," he winked.

The woman blushed, an unexpected warmth creeping up her cheeks—a strange sensation she wouldn't typically feel toward a student many years her junior. Yet, something about him tickled her neurons, stirring a subconscious allure that left her momentarily flustered.

"Alright," she cleared her throat. "Which program do you wish to apply to?" she asked.

Fredric pulled a neatly folded piece of paper from the inner pocket of his jacket, placing it on the table. "I wish to join the second year of the Bloom Program, based on the recommendation of the captain of Knights Unit 22," he smiled.

"Second year?" she mumbled, examining the document. "That's unusual. Wouldn't you want to start from year one?"

"Additionally," Fredric produced a second document and placed it on the table. "I'd like to request the promotion of a student named Zeke Ventrew into the Bloom Program as well."

"You're both recommended?" she wondered aloud.

"Yes," Fredric affirmed with a gentle smile.

"Well, you seem fine as you're already registered as a contractor, but your friend appears to still be ranked as a civilian," the woman mused, deep in thought.

"Oh, don't worry about that. He said he'd get himself registered today," Fredric explained.

"Additionally, he's been marked as missing, so I'm not sure he'll be able to pass the exams he's missed," the woman sighed.

"Well, the two of us were taken in as honorary members of the Knights and spent the last eight months in training. All we need to do is graduate to become full-fledged Knights," Fredric scratched the back of his head. "Don't worry about the exams. Zeke was able to become a Sprout, so it's a given he'll pass them with flying colors."

"If you say so," the woman said, typing away on her keyboard.

"So, when is he planning to show up?" she asked, squinting slightly.

"Tomorrow," Fredric replied confidently.

"Alright, your documents are in order," she sighed. "Anything else?"

"Oh, I almost forgot," Fredric laughed lightly. "We're going to need uniforms."

"It says here your friend has already been issued a uniform," she noted, glancing at the screen.

"Yes, well, he outgrew it," Fredric explained.

The woman stood up, walking to the closet at the back of the room. "Okay, so two mediums?" she asked.

"No," Fredric paused thoughtfully. "One medium, one large."

"You don't look like a large," the woman chuckled.

"Oh, I'm the medium," Fredric laughed back.

"He sure had quite the growth spurt," she remarked.

"You have no idea," Fredric grinned.

Leaving the academy with a grin on his face, Fredric carried a bag containing the uniforms. He took the monorail to Winston Alley, amused by the fact that the street was essentially named after Nolan.

"I don't think that's the Winston it's referencing, though," he mused.

Upon reaching the street, he entered the megabuilding and took the elevator up.

Standing outside Zeke's door, he could hear multiple voices arguing inside. Fredric cautiously opened the door, and a strange scene unfolded before his eyes.

Two men sat in their underwear, trembling with cards in their hands, while Zeke leaned back confidently, a stack of money, accessories, and clothes piled beside him.

"This is bullshit!" one of the men shouted.

"What the hell is this?" Fredric wondered aloud.

"Oh, hi, Fredric," Zeke laughed. "Care for a game?"

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