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But why?

Punctuality was important in the military, but this wasn't a military academy. Even if this academy for 'heroes' sought to instill 'heroic ideals' unto its first batch of students, punctuality wasn't something that mattered in that profession either. It completely confounded Otis, in truth, the strangely harsh punishment for not being present for the very first second of orientation. What could be so important in that first second? In those first ten seconds? In perhaps, even a whole half minute? It was the sort of lunatic behavior that he expected out of prison guards, who had nothing better to do than to abuse what scraps of power they possessed. Or bad teachers, perhaps, who conflated politeness with capability, when such qualities had nothing to do with each other. And what would they even do if one of the [i]carriages[/i] had ended up being late?

On the other hand, however...

As prestigious and well-funded as Wingram Academy was, resources were ever-finite. There were limits present, from something as simple as food to something as unalterable as the amount of time in a day. If this was a matter of 'arriving on time or you'll be expelled', then from another angle, one could say that this was a matter of 'causing as many expulsions as possible in order to monopolize resources'. What other reason was there, for one to give a little less than an hour for the mere task of reaching an auditorium? Otis toyed with that idea briefly, his amber gaze glancing over the other students present. They were all 'talented', but only a few were [i]talented[/i]. Over the rise and fall of sun and stars, over the decades and centuries that have cycled past Castalia, it had never been the masses that decided the fate of the world. It had only ever been individuals. The Clockwork Empress. The Star-Eater. Klara-Astra, the Ever-Present.

He looked them over, one by one, and nodded.

There were too many. There were never that many. So he would withhold his question, and operate under his hypothesis.

[i]'Reach the auditorium. Seal it.'[/i]

[b]"Show me wonders of this world."[/b]

The gateway opened, and from it, the Strigidae called forth one of the simplest creations: a wooden board with four small wheels. It clattered against the ground before he stomped upon it, flipping it up upon the railings of the downward-swinging bridge. Then, Otis joined that wooden board up there, and with a terrific squeal, he dropped, sliding down upon the railing at a breakneck pace that could only be rivaled by those willing to dive into freefall.

Sparks scattered in his wake; the Seeker sought nothing more than monopoly, and they should [i]all[/i] thank him for not choosing direct violence as his method of achieving it.