The first faction bell rang at sunrise.
The bronze sound did not fade normally.
It belonged to ownership.
Paperwork before blood.
A civilized threat.
Almost elegant.
Not the class bell.
Not the emergency bell.
Not the black bell from Gate Eleven that still lived inside too many dreams.
This one was bronze.
Old.
Political.
It sounded once across Astral Zenith, and every student who understood noble education stopped pretending breakfast mattered.
The academy board ignited above the central courtyard.
[Strategic Alignments Review]
[Opening Session]
[Attendance required for registered representatives.]
[Unregistered pressure groups subject to disciplinary classification.]
Pressure groups.
Gold Hall had absolutely helped write that.
We arrived as a problem no one knew where to seat.
That was becoming a specialty.
