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For Lienna, the past few weeks had been a torrent of firsts: first time sleeping in a keep, first time eating pork, first time having her hair cut by someone who knew what they were doing, first time having her measurements taken, and more. So much had happened it was hard to believe it was real; in fact, just about the only thing reminding her she wasn't dreaming was the horrible stone in her stomach. 

Indeed, among her other ‘firsts’ since finalizing her engagement to Count Francis was a decidedly unpleasant one: her first time riding in a carriage, and consequently, her first realization that she got [i]roadsick[/i]. The few hours’ ride from Hima to South Gautier had been awful enough on that rickety fur trader’s cart, but the trip from the Count’s keep to Garreg Mach took [i]days[/i] and wasn't any smoother. Lienna had always thought a real carriage would be more comfortable, but the wretched thing pitched and yawed with every bump in the road, the horses stank, and the walls and roof that were supposed to protect her only made her feel like she was suffocating. Her single attempt to ride alongside the carriage on horseback ended before it began when the beast was too spooked to let her mount it, so she'd been doomed to spend the whole trip trying to keep her dinner down. 

By the time they finally arrived at Garreg Mach, she was as white as a sheet, trembling, and vowing never again to set foot in a carriage. She’d had the driver stop a ways off from the monastery walls so she could stumble out and finish what the last leg of the trip had started, and spent a good few minutes in the shade of a tree by the roadside, nursing a waterskin and waiting for her head to stop spinning. Her uniform jacket had fallen casualty on the way, not that Lienna missed it; the stiff collar felt like a hand around her neck, and the trim fit of the thing greatly contrasted the ratty furs and smocks she was used to. The shoes were no better with their hard soles and heel, but that couldn’t be helped; commoner or not, even [i]she[/i] wasn’t about to stumble into Garreg Mach Monastery with bare feet. At least the skirt was agreeable enough, long enough to reach her ankles and only snug at the waist, and the shirt would probably become a favourite. She’d been apprehensive about the breathable cotton at first, but the loose-fitting sleeves concealed how bony her arms were and now that she was here, she didn't expect the cold to be a problem. If this weather kept up, she could probably stow that jacket away for good. 

She eventually felt well enough to stand again, but her stomach was reluctant to settle, and she’d be damned if she met her new classmates and professors holding her belly like a woman with child. The solution was found in a gift from her new fiancé: a long, deep brown sash, made of fabric that shone in the light and thin enough to see through. The gift perplexed Lienna; she didn’t understand why the Count bothered trying to woo her when their engagement was already finalized, and the sash itself would be useless against the cold, thin as it was. But as it turned out, it [i]could[/i] serve a purpose: she wrapped it tightly around her abdomen, binding her belly from waist to ribs, and tied it off to the side in a limp bow. If nothing else, it might stop her stomach from quivering.

Not that it didn’t try. Lienna hadn’t been to church in years, but even she felt the weight of history and piety when she set foot in the cathedral. It wasn’t like she remembered the church back home; the church in Hima had been a second home for her until her grandmother fell ill, but every step here felt like an unwelcome intrusion on holy ground, the eyes of the saints heavy and judgemental when she passed under them. It was so bizarre and uncomfortable that it even distracted her from the unbelievable [i]scale[/i] of the place, and when the young Archbishop’s speech finally concluded, she was one of the first ones out. 

Luckily, that strangeness seemed to end at the threshold of the cathedral. She was able to relax a little once she got to the Blue Lions classroom, discomfort nudged aside by awe that Garreg Mach managed to transform even something as humble as a classroom into the stuff of fairy tales. The stained glass windows were unlike anything Lienna had ever seen, casting a rainbow of light across the ancient masonry; she couldn’t imagine the price of the books lining the walls, bound in leather and etched in gold, far finer than any she’d seen at the church back home; hells, even the tables and chairs were crafted with skill beyond anything Lienna had ever hoped to lay eyes on. It took a conscious effort not to drop her jaw at every new furnishing or artifact that caught her eye; she knew students of her means were probably the minority at the Officers’ Academy, but surely the rest must have been at least a [i]little[/i] impressed by what they saw. 

The cavalier professor clashed with the focused atmosphere of the room, but he was brief enough; he simply introduced himself and the House Leader before scurrying out the door. Said House Leader wasn’t much better, quick to take Michail’s place at the front and launch into a flowery introduction about securing the Kingdom’s future. Lienna looked on with lidded eyes, waiting to be dismissed; the boy carried himself like a storybook general and spoke like a priest, and Lienna was far too weary from the road to entertain his pageantry any longer than necessary.

It would probably be prudent to get on good terms with His Excellency Heir Presumptive Auberon von House Leader at some point, but for the moment Lienna was more interested in the names on the board. Moving to the front of the room, she roved over her own name and the name of the House Leader, as well as a few others. She recognized “Galatea”, but not its origin; she could infer from the boy’s attitude and his appointment to House Leader that it was probably one of Faerghus’ noble families, but she couldn’t think of anything about them save a vague, sourceless familiarity with the name itself. The only other name she recognized was Fraldarius, the name of the territory bordering Gautier to the South. From the crash course she’d had Hima’s priest give her, she recalled that Houses Gautier and Fraldarius often intermarried, and made a note to acquaint herself with “Kellen” on the off chance he or she proved themselves useful to her in the future. 

She held back a groan, reminding herself to stand straight. The smart thing would be to get her first impressions out of the way before classes started, but the thought made her head spin. All she wanted to do was collapse into the nearest bed and sleep until she forgot about the swaying of that stupid carriage. She’d earned that indulgence, right? She was certainly owed [i]something[/i] after days in that awful box. Yes, that was fair. She could sleep the afternoon off and meet with her classmates at dinner, hopefully feeling well enough that it wouldn’t be a total chore. She wouldn’t make a very good first impression sick and exhausted anyway. 

Choice made, Lienna made a beeline out to the courtyard, nearly stumbling when the [i]thwack![/i] of a rod against armour made her jump. She didn’t breathe for a moment, clutching her chest as she watched, wide-eyed, what she could only describe as a children’s argument fire between her professor and two others. Was this going to be a regular occurrence? She’d expected the same boring air of reverence from the professors as she’d seen in the clergy, but after Michail’s performance in the classroom, she supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised. Monastery or not, it seemed there were people everywhere who refused to grow up. 

She brushed a long lock of ivory hair back into place before approaching a purple-haired man on the edge of the skirmish. She recognized him from the cathedral and vaguely recalled him being named some kind of overseer, but most importantly, he seemed to be the only professor around acting like, well, a [i]professor.[/i]

[color=baa7c7]“Pardon me,”[/color] she tapped the man’s shoulder - Lysander, that was it - and put on her best ‘personable’ voice. [color=baa7c7]“Could you please point me toward the… um…”[/color] her eyes fell to her crossed arms, a scowl threatening behind her mask of politeness. Dammit, what was that stupid word?! Just what she needed, her first ten words at the monastery and she was already outing herself as some kind of… of... ugh, [i]dammit![/i] 

[color=baa7c7]“Ah—student housing,”[/color] she finally decided, knowing that wasn’t the word she was looking for but reluctant to make any more of a fool of herself. She faked a little laugh, touching her head in an attempt to play it off. [color=baa7c7]“Sorry, I’m just [i]so[/i] tired from the trip.”[/color] 

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