"Yur, I mean, er. I, uh."
The gruff man spoke slowly, his words punctuated by a thick accent. Gwyn could barely comprehend him.
Mrs. Farcroft sat in her chair, eyeing the man with impatience.
"I know that interruption was very exciting, but we still have a few more presenters after you, so can you please focus?"
The man shifted in place; he appeared to be more nervous than Gwyn was on her first day.
"Yur, I can. This place… just makes me so hungry."
"Ah, yes. As a reminder, Class. Don't eat the classroom equipment. Tarrance had a bite of a redberry muffin and had to be sent to the healer for the fourth time this week."
Gwyn was pretty sure she could see Mrs. Farcroft's eye twitch. She addressed the presenter as though he were just starting.
"Now, introduce yourself."
Neither her tone nor her facial expression had eased the presenter's anxiety.
"Yur, uh… As she said, my name is Mr. Hornbill."
"Hi, Mr. Hornbill!"
The class said his name as if they were greeting someone at an AA meeting.
"Yur, uh. So."
Gwyn wondered if this man could form a coherent thought.
"Yur, so… I uh. I work in construction. Which… er is a career field in which you… er."
He spoke as though he had rehearsed hours beforehand, but in the moment, he had forgotten his practice.
Gwyn raised her hand, thinking she could help him out. Also, if he was going to mumble all day, she might have her new cult following to sacrifice her.
"You work in construction?"
She said with a feigned hint of interest.
The man flushed when he saw Gwyn, a woman in a sea of antagonistic children.
"Yur, ma'am. I build stuff."
"What kind of 'stuff' do you build?"
"Yur, I be buildin' um… buildings."
Obviously.
"Do you work for someone?"
"Yur, I work for da Capital. Which is run by da King and his oh so greatness."
He shiftily looked around as if he were legally obligated to make that statement.
The class's focus shifted between Gwyn and the construction worker as they spoke in turn. Some kids slept in their desks. Mrs. Farcroft would shoot them with gusts of air to wake them up, which was always followed by an irritated look.
Gwyn continued her questions, her interest growing.
"How do you build said buildings?"
The man became visibly excited.
"Yur, so dis is da cool part. You gots to use magic, but you can't make stuff happen from nothin'." He picked up a pickaxe that was leaning against the wall. "So like, dis here is my catalyst."
It was large, bulky, and seemed impractical. It was used frequently, as evidenced by the chips and dents on the iron pick atop the stained wooden handle. He presented it to the class, and some of them admired it. Some kids looked as though they couldn't care less.
"I say der spell, and uh… use da materials… like rocks or whatever, and I help form da building to whatever da people are plannin'."
Interesting.
"So you can't build from nothing? You have to have a material first."
"Yur, that's right, ma'am."
He looked pleased and much less anxious than when he started.
Mrs. Farcroft looked up from her watch.
"Perfect! That's your time. Thank you, Mr. Hornbill."
Her tone conveyed that she wasn't thankful at all.
He bowed.
"Yur, thank you fer havin' me."
The class politely clapped as he made his exit.
A kid shot up from his desk.
"I love you, Pa!"
"Yur, I love you too, Junior!"
For some reason, this interaction made Gwyn want to cry.
Mr. Hornbill exited the room, and another blue-collar-looking worker entered the classroom. They wore a nice button-up attire, their hair was swept to the side, and they had a paper in their hand.
Mrs. Farcroft addressed them.
"Mind introducing yourself?"
"I do not. I am Mrs. Crumpletin. I am within the public works sector. Managing water and sewage treatment throughout the Capital."
Their voice was feminine, which surprised Gwyn; their appearance suggested a more masculine individual.
"Hi, Mrs. Crumpletin!"
The class said in unison, Gwyn joining them this time.
"Hello, everyone." She gave a slight bow. "As I said previously, I work in the management of water and sewage treatment. Basically, whenever you use your bathroom, drink water, the water has to go somewhere. I am in charge of where that water goes."
A hand shot up.
"So when I poop, you know about it?"
The woman shook her head and laughed.
"No, no. I don't personally. What happens between you and your bathroom is strictly personal."
This had Gwyn and the teacher chuckle, but the presenter's word choice went over the children's heads.
The presenter appeared giddy.
"What's interesting is that we didn't always have the magical plumbing system we use today. It wasn't until the seventeenth Chosen One who came and provided us with insights on how to manage our waste better and use our limited resources more wisely, that we have the technology we do today."
Seventeenth Chosen One?
Gwyn raised her hand this time and asked what she was thinking.
"Seventeenth? Chosen One?"
"Gardolvanosinocincava, which is a bit of a mouthful, so we just call him Gar."
The children were up in arms, trying to pronounce the unnecessarily long name. It sounded as though they were speaking in tongues. After a few moments of the charade, Mrs. Farcroft calmed them down.
That was undoubtedly one of the names of all time.
Gwyn was especially curious to know what elves thought about another Chosen one.
"What was he like?"
The elf had a pleasant look on her face, as though she was reminiscing about old times.
"He was a man of very few words, despite his obnoxiously long name. He hated us, actually, for a very, very, long time. Yet, he fell in love with a woman who reminded him of his people. After that, he berated us with how 'We waste too many resources' and 'How do you expect to survive?' Because of him, we have developed a whole public works sector when it comes to waste and water management, inheriting things like plumbing and water treatment."
The kids were snoring in the back. But Gwyn found herself extremely intrigued.
"That's why you have things like showers?"
The presenter nodded.
"Indeed, among other things. Publicly available water sources are now usable by the citizens of Keceo, whereas before they were mostly hoarded by the Kosmairians and used as a bartering chip. They do oversee most water management facilities, but they don't have the same iron grip that they used to."
Drama.
"Can't you just make water with magic? Why was water an issue and hoarded?"
The presenter looked extremely interested now.
"I love answering this question. We can create water with magic, but the water thus formed isn't actually water. You can drink it, sure, but it doesn't hydrate you—only the illusion of hydration. Yet, and this is the fun part, you can purify real water with magic, removing impurities such as bodily waste, food particles, and other external factors." She smiled. "Gar used to say, 'You don't know how easy you have it.'"
Gwyn thoughtfully hummed.
"Where does the waste go? Can't you just vaporize it?"
"Ah." The speaker looked flustered. "No, no. We divert most waste to the outside of the Wall, saving that problem for a future date. We figure if the day comes when the Wall is no longer needed and the Red Death is gone, then cleaning up after our mess will be the least of our worries."
Gwyn could relate.
"How does—"
Mrs. Farcroft interrupted Gwyn's next question.
"And you are all out of time. Thank you, Mrs. Crumpletin."
The presenter gave her daughter a polite wave as she left the room.
A few moments later, a man… what Gwyn assumed to be a man in large, bright red metal armor walked in.
"Okay, we are running short on time, so you will have to be our last one."
He had a strong, bellowing voice.
"Alright, I'll do my best. I go by Rodrick, so that is what you'll call me."