The airship was about a quarter of an hour from docking at Platform Two in the Central Port District. A waiter in a bow tie walked up to a passenger, calling out to him while gently tapping a bell on the table.
That bell was originally for passengers to summon an attendant, but now it was the other way around. "Sir? Sir, wake up. The airship will be arriving in fifteen minutes."
The passenger had fallen asleep, slumped over the table. He wasn't very old. His left hand rested on an open book, while his right still clutched a fine charcoal pencil. The draft paper in front of him was covered in diagrams the waiter couldn't comprehend, with text squeezed into every available space.
Sunlight streamed through the porthole, casting a glow on the young man's profile and illuminating his long, thick eyelashes. Passing travelers who remembered their school days couldn't help but smile—by convention, the Saints' Day Festival was always followed by exam season. This had to be a student.
