[b]Vyvyan Ngiwan[/b]

Six hours and forty minutes is the typical length of a school day, and also about the amount of time Vyvyan had spent on the train. With the occasional break interspersed to massage his limbs or eyes, he busied himself with revision and self-study, going through his materials and notes, and even doing a short mock paper.

"Eh..." he mumbled to himself, skimming through the mathematics textbook, "Algebra? How come got Sec One Sec Two stuff here? I thought half of this already learn long time ago." It took until Algebra II before he encountered any new concepts.

While Vyvyan appreciated the opportunity to revise, and feared overconfidence on his own part, he [i]had[/i] placed 18th in a nation-wide mathematics competition, and wished to dedicate his time to something brand new instead—magical studies. Magic and Spells and Abilities were not really taught in his primary years, so he spent the vast majority of the ride intrigued by and engrossed in the theory of the two subjects. Half a dozen hours were spent in this way, until the noticeable deceleration of the train, accompanied by numerous student passengers preparing to alight, notified him of their arrival.

As he looked up and out of the windows and vaguely recalled his first time coming to Enklen, Vyvyan smoothened a few creases on his predominantly vermillion attire, a traditional short coat with a crossed collar and loose sleeves extending to the wrists, coupled with a pleated skirt that reached from his navel to his ankles. Well, the lower garment was in actual fact divided, and thus a pair of pants, though it at the very least greatly [i]resembled[/i] a skirt. The entire set of clothing was a gift from his paternal grandparents for his sacrāmentum, which he had accepted with thanks after the usual polite protest, though the distinctive garb did contrast an uncomfortable amount with the generally casual clothes that most in the train had on.

Vyvyan had transferred earlier in the calendar year, but there had been barely enough time to so much as become acclimatised to the fresh environment and all its pecularities before the school year came to a close. Those few months were particularly educational, however, and not solely in the academic sense. Learning how to cook became top priority upon his return home, and while he had not the confidence to serve anyone but himself, and was nowhere near as proficient as those in the cooking classes, the congee he could now make served as an edible, cheap, and nutritious enough breakfast.

Amongst the last few to get off the train with his belongings, a process that necessitated the aid of a ramp and a pair of more able bodies, Vyvyan gave a shy bow and a word of thanks to the kind students he'd inconvenienced before heading off at a slow pace towards the school, pushing his two bags of luggage about a metre ahead to trailblaze a path—he was quite easy to miss, being most certainly the shortest in the entire crowd, no petite noble could beat someone [i]seated![/i]—in no hurry.