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While others flocked to the observation deck, eager to see their new home for the next couple years of their life, there was one youth who didn’t rush there immediately. Indeed, this particular child wasn’t anywhere close to the observation deck, but perhaps his relative apathy towards the sight unfolding before his peers’ eyes was inevitable.

After all, he was Kress Alstein, son of the High Speaker, nephew of the Arch Governor, and, by birthright, the next heir to the Cresia family. His eyes were the amethyst of Cecilia Alstein and of the illustrious late Ambrose. The bracelet around his wrist could cause untold destruction with minimal effort, the piercing in his ear could communicate with the individual on the other end no matter what dimension they found themselves in, and the tome in his hand was well-marked and well-used, the hallmark of a hard-working student of the magical arts. His bearing itself was noble, pale skin and vibrant hair granting him the beauty of an eloquent youth, whilst his attire could only be considered top-class, fabrics imported from all around the globe to weave something that didn’t require magic to remain a paradox of qualities: sturdy yet flexible, warm yet breathable.

It was only natural that the son of such a prestigious bloodline deigned not to join the rubes gawking at the gem of Cresia. Even the most gorgeous of sights grew old with time, and as it stood, Kress had more important things to do.

Such as absolutely geek out over the artificiery within the engine room of the airship. Though he had burned away many nights reading up on the theory behind such creations, this particular airship was a wholly new model. Vulcan-class, it was called, the first commercially-accessible model that the famed Alunya Vulkina was truly satisfied with, enough so that they put their family name alongside it. Jets of white flame propelled it much faster than any of the previous models, while parallel weight-manipulation runes allowed one to quickly change altitudes. Thrusters on the sides, combined with stabilizing magic, enabled Vulcan-class airships to strafe almost immediately sideways as well, while also being instrumental to performing tight turns. One had to wonder why a vessel meant for transportation was kitted out to outperform the handling of lighter, racing vessels, but regardless of what it was, Kress simply wanted to burn everything here into his memory.

This, [i]this[/i] was the sort of stuff he wanted to see in Arkus Academy. Full of prodigies, full of geniuses, full of people who’d be able to do amazing things, who'd be able to think up things he'd never even dream about.

Content to stay in the stuffy, smelly engine room for the remaining duration of the flight, Kress sat right there as engineers and technicians walked around him, occasionally eyeing the boy with sparkles in his eyes and a total lack of concern for dirtying his finery. He didn’t care, after all. He had a whole room full of these sorts of clothes back home, and there was no doubt in his mind that his mom shipped another carriage-load of these sorts of clothes into his dorm.

Which was still a bad feel, but for better or worse, Kress had become accustomed to his mom’s sense of fashion.