As the school year droned on, the weather shifted dramatically. Some mornings started out sunny, but winds would sweep a cold front from the north, bringing on an early autumn chill. The Winter Solstice approached, daylight decreased and the colors of the equinox disappeared. Cold air quickly turned to frost.

Frost provided students with a sense of relief – it was a sign that their winter holidays were nearing.

It was the ice that came first, as the weather worsened through the final weeks of school. Even before any snow had fallen, the rains came, freezing overnight. A string of cold fronts carried with it snow, burying the already icy Empire. Buildings became iced-in havens for warmth and comfort, and firewood became twice its worth for those who needed it. Deliveries for provisions all over the Arcadian Empire quite literally froze in the subzero, and took days to dig out.

The piles of snow behind the buildings began building up. The ice remained. The wind added another level of difficulty – it was a sort of wind that made someone feel like they were being stabbed by a thousand little knives when it blew into any exposed skin.

In anticipation of the snow, Aiden requested his parents buy and send new boots. His soles dug into the snow and ice by about half an inch, and were enough to stop the boy from slipping, even in the harsh winds. As other students spilled over the grounds, Aiden smiled and quietly thanked his parents for doing what he needed them to.

~ ~ ~

Aiden returned to his room, his clothes wet from the windswept snow. He looked into his ornate mirror, which also had been sent by his parents, and found his face red. He shook himself out of his damp clothes and dropped them over one of the leather-upholstered chairs by the bookshelf. He replaced his winter attire with a different set, and turned back into the cold.

The wind had almost disappeared, but nonetheless, it was still horribly freezing. It was predominantly due to the thick layers of ice that made his journey to the Gold Hall more difficult.

The Gold Hall was decorated in glimmering brass fixtures that lit the large room in a white glow, its walls clad in carved wood on the ground floor, and then white stone arching into a perfect point in the ceiling supported by exposes wooden trusses. But the room’s décor now included a slew of colored streamers and flowers – green, orange, purple, red, blue, silver, with the brass representing gold – for the winter holidays. The room had lit up, quite literally, from the ornate stone fireplace on the left wall. In one corner sat a large tree, which were decorated in the colors that adorned the room. Snowflakes in each color hung in a circular design from the chandeliers, and, with an occasional breeze that had crept in through the front doors, made the decorations look like they were floating.

Aiden shook his head once he was inside. One of the front hall attendants retrieved his coat and scarf and hung it up on one of the wall hooks. He glanced around the large room, trying to spot someone he recognized.

Most of the tables were occupied, so he sauntered towards one of empty tables in the center of the room. In the center of the table was a small bouquet of stark-white flowers, which Aiden moved to the floor. Once seated, a smiling waiter, dressed smartly in the school’s colors, gently pushed in his chair and moved to his side.

“Hello,” the waiter began, the cheeriness of his voice making Aiden’s stomach turn. “What would you like today?”

“Get me a menu,” he said, glaring. The waiter bowed and walked away.

Aiden sank into his chair and studied the fourteen empty seats at his table. He grumbled to himself, realizing suddenly that he had nothing to do while he waited; no one to talk to, no one to mess about with, not even any ice for him to chew.

The waiter returned with a menu. Its leather cover was cracked around the corners and peeling from the staples that held it together. The gold threading that spelled out the school’s name were becoming loose and threatening to become undone. But Aiden still opened it, listening to it creak. It was the same food he had expected since different menus were in circulation. After taking one glance over the listed foods, he closed the cracked leather book and waited for his waiter to come back.

The waiter reappeared with a glass of iceless water. Aiden sighed and looked to the older man. “Just get me the ‘holiday special’.”

“We don’t serve that until next week, I’m sorry,” he said through his teeth.

“I don’t care; get it for me now.” The waiter stepped back and proceeded towards the kitchen. He returned shortly after to re-emphasize his point. “Fine, then get me something that’s damn close to it.” He swung the menu hard into the waiter’s abdomen, knocking the air out of him. He was tired and disappointed by the long day, and plagued by a string of topics and problems that could’ve been in any sixteen year-old’s head. He didn’t preoccupy himself with those thoughts, which made him even more upset and frustrated. But he was the governor’s son, always supposed to be composed and collected in his thoughts.

If Aiden felt repressed, he didn’t realize it.

But as the boy waited for his food, an attendant brought over five people – Adelaide, Danielle, Meredith, Frederick, and Eugene – to the table, where he pulled out chairs across from Aiden. The attendant noticed the white-floral centerpiece on the floor, and moved it back to the center of the tabletop. The two boys frowned when they spotted Aiden, and gently pushed the girls away, signifying the eminent danger the boy possessed. They paused in their footsteps, looking around the Gold Hall and trying to find a vacant spot for them. The attendant was apologetic, maybe even too apologetic for his own good, saying that this was the only table where they could sit together, and gestured them back towards Aiden. Two of the girls sighed, and silently sat down. The attendant departed.

Aiden’s face erupted into a toothy smile. Aiden’s food arrived, piping hot, but he didn’t touch his silverware. His peers received their menus and, like Jonathan months before, turned their menus into a wall. “Well, how rude,” Aiden commented, “This isn’t a particularly polite way to start a meal. You’re making me feel left out.” He picked up his knife, slowly dragging it across the china plate. The schoolchildren across the table shivered, possibly from the wind picking back up outside. “Be inclusive,” he said, stabbing his fork into the lemon-marinated chicken. The wall didn’t move. He cut slowly and continued; “Now you’re just being unfair. You’re hurting my feelings.”

Frederick, without putting down his menu, said, “On the contrary, Mr. Whitebell. If you feel hurt by your lack of participation, I suggest you reflect.”

“I’m hurt, Mr. Pearlman,” he replied, his tone soft and mature. “I’m absolutely sure that you wouldn’t have said that to Miss de la Rose. Or Miss Hollway. Or Miss Altman. Unless you were extremely upset.” Aiden placed a thin piece of chicken in his mouth and began chewing slowly, the citrus sauce dripping down his chin. “But I’m sure you wouldn’t say that to any of these - ” He went into a coughing fit, took a swig of water, and then continued. “ - ladies.”

Danielle, whose cheap lipstick was absent from her lips, dropped her menu and silently asked, “Stop it, please.”

Aiden paused, his eyes drifting lazily over to Danielle. He wiped his chin leisurely of the citrus sauce. “Oh, Miss de la Rose, you look…different. Did you do something different to your hair?” Aiden chuckled. “Oh, no, that would mean you’d be looking decent.”

“Stop it,” Frederick said quickly through his gritted teeth. “Can’t we, at least, sit here and be quiet?”

“I’m just making some friendly- ”

“No, you’re not, Aiden. You’re being you. You’re doing this so you can get your way.”

A waiter came over and began taking their orders.

“Could I get the ‘holiday special’?”

“’Holiday special’, please?”

“I’ll have the same as her.”

“Could I get the same, please?”

“Me too. Thank you.”

The waiter departed from the table with the student’s menus in hand.

Aiden gritted his teeth, balling the tablecloth in his fists. Watching the waiter leave, he cursed them all under his breath. Aiden sighed and fell back into his chair and, quite audibly, yelled, “You cows.” The quintet of students stopped. Aiden had said it loud enough that a person sitting two tables away could hear it. The effect was made louder because of the Gold Hall’s open space, making it resonant around the room. “You are a disappointment to everyone around you.”

Frederick snorted, unintentionally. “You hurt our feelings, Mr. Whitebell,” he mocked.

“No,” piped up Meredith, who was sitting closest to the unhappy sixteen-year-old. “Let him speak. I desperately want to hear this.” She leaned forward and frowned, placing her chin in her cupped hands.

Aiden sat back and said, “Wow, a civilized answer that doesn’t strike me down.“ He moved forward, placing his elbows on the tabletop, and began, “Why can’t you ladies take care of your appearance? I mean, yes, you’re most likely never going to amount to anything based on your backgrounds, but you’re all the same – merchants, businessmen, owners of establishments like hotels and brothels. Unless you marry up, or inherit an incredible amount of money, you’re always going to be quite…ugly creatures that walk this earth.” He sat up quickly and continued, “Ladies are meant to take care of their appearances. They are meant for show and nothing more. The fact that this school has hired ladies for anything besides cooks and attendants astounds me. Why do women feel they need to branch out from what they know best; to bare and raise children, apply relief to men, and to serve when needed?” Aiden stopped suddenly when the table shifted slightly towards him, and found that his one-person audience had disappeared.

Meredith reappeared from under the table, smiling. “Sorry,” she half-whispered. “I dropped my fork.” She then produced her fallen cutlery, which still gleamed like silver.

“All right.” He glanced down and looked at the intricate marquee floor. “Wow, this floor is probably clean enough for you to eat off of,” he said indifferently. Meredith stiffened in her chair, but nevertheless, she smiled.

Aiden rolled his eyes and continued, “Why does it matt - ”

Eugene and Meredith suddenly lifted their fists from the tabletops and slammed them down as hastily as they had risen. This resulted in Aiden’s side of the table rising about two inches off the floor. His meal, his water glass, his cutlery, everything that wasn’t sewn down or attached to the table flew up and over the centerpiece, which also toppled towards the five students. But once the sound of Eugene and Meredith’s fists hit the table, Aiden jolted backwards to avoid the table hitting him. As quickly as the table had risen, it fell back to the floor, but the table’s shifted position feet of the table fall right on the balls of Aiden’s foot.

Aiden jumped, the table landing firmly on the floor. He grabbed his foot and sat down in his chair, shaking from the pain. “You whores!” he shouted, which echoed through the Gold Hall for some time. Danielle, whom had started laughing when Aiden sprung up, found herself sliding her chair back farther and farther in the hopes that she could depart the room. His fists were now balled so tightly they were almost as white as the centerpiece and his eyes an inferno; Aiden limped over towards Meredith, who looked like she was ready to fall asleep.

Just as Aiden reached out to the girl with the intent of either slapping or strangling her, Meredith redirected his hand and used her other hand to knock him to the ground. Aiden fell to his side, still fuming, but the girl who had knocked him down simply frowned. “How, dare you, you…you slut!” Aiden spluttered, trying to mask the pain from falling as anger. Getting up, he rolled his hands into fists and went to strike her again.

Rather than try to defend herself, Meredith just stepped on Aiden’s injured foot again, which acted almost like a “freeze” button. Once he had stopped, Meredith mimicked Aiden and struck him with her knuckles closer to his nose, and he fell back to the ground again. He was bleeding, but only slightly from his nostrils; his cheek began swelling up. Aiden gently placed his hand on his face, checking to feel what was in pain and what wasn’t. Meredith kneeled down next to the boy and whispered, “Isn’t it a little embarrassing? Being beaten by someone who should be seen and not heard?”

But Aiden simply smiled. His grin continued to grow as tears began streaming down his face. Aiden’s smirk dissipated through a pathetic whimper until he looked completely defeated. His breathing increased, he began crying. “Why would you do that?” Aiden whispered, his voice shaking. Aiden slowly dissolved into a sobbing heap on the floor, which, like his previous comments, allowed for everyone to hear. Meredith stepped back, surprised at his authentic acting skills that brought about other students and professors to see what had happened.

Meredith felt very scared of what was about to occur.