Moments before dawn the sound that punches our ears and wakes us is agony with rage intertwined. It boggles the mind that such a small creature can be so loud. The hairless familiar is smaller than an average dog, with tiny horns encircling the top of its smooth head. Each morning the tiny demon is pced near the entrance of the dormitory, and each morning it screeches with impossible punctuality. I despise the thing with the passion of a thousand Sols.
After making the bed we move to the shower caverns. Academy puts great focus on discipline and cleanliness. The water always flows from eye-sized holes, falling continuously. Like a small indoor waterfall, it never stops flowing. It is akin to the frost of an early, te-autumn morning.
Weeks have passed since the oath ceremony and yet there are still a few girls that hesitate. And so, we were all given a choice, wash or don't eat in the morning. Some take it, but I suspect in less than a week or two more none will.
I go toward the very nippy flow.
Cold bites my skin, initially it is a great shock for my body but then it gets easier. If only slightly. Small holes on the ground to the side drain the outpouring of water. I've read that some vils and Lodestar's biggest bathhouses have water warmed with coal—supposedly even the floor is warm. With the Academy's wealth and influence, they could arrange for us to have an occasional warm bath though I suspect we may never feel such obscene opulence.
The caretakers said we need to shower every day, with hair needing to be washed three or four times a week. Once per ten days and occasional combing are more than enough to keep the hair clean, anything more is just a waste of time.
As the frost bites my bones like a starving bear I try to focus and think of home. My mom would prepare a nice warm bath for me a few times each quarter of the month; obviously, I should leave such luxurious thoughts to the realm of dreams.
Every ten days or so, each of us got a bar of lye soap, scented with hyacinth. The soap has an earthy and sweet floral smell to it like a rich garden after the rain. Although visually unappealing, I can't fault its nice fragrance.
Caretaker Vitellia, an elderly woman wearing her usual woolen indigo surcoat over her white tunic, states her usual displeasure at the hesitation shown by some girls. ''Girls, those that don't wash don't get to eat for the day.'' Today her tone killed more than a few protesting voices.
During my weeks here I've realized a little better how this pce operates. Caretaker Vitellia is one of the numerous caretakers that keep the Academy from colpsing in on itself. The woman with metallic rings in her long hair—the one I skillfully decided to call Rings—is really called Katerina Varro. She is the right and also left-hand woman for Caretaker Vitellia and would occasionally throw one or two...encouraging words at us. When she comes to the shower caverns instead of Vitellia we all embrace that gelid water like it's a mother's hug.
They don't beat us, but the methods used here can—just like this water—get under your skin.
This morning, just like the ones before, for about the first ten rapid breaths I panic and think how I couldn't possibly stand the water as cold as the Void's kiss. Still, I'm even less keen on standing out or going hungry. Was tempted many times, though. Goddess...I still am.
