Klarion’s dreams were strange and vivid, to say the least. What little he could remember started with him entering the manor to find a towering Storm Wolf in the kitchen, somehow wielding oversized utensils with finesse, growling as it stirred a bumbling pot. Apparently, the beast had a chef class, because Klarion had tried to eat from the pot several times, but each attempt caused the Storm Wolf to move it with a growl. Then, to his frustration, a Sentinel’s mask had drifted into the kitchen, expressionless but persistent, somehow pressing spoonfuls from the pot directly against its surface in a pantomime of eating. The dream had ended with him wrestling one of the spoons out of the intangible grip of that mask.
Setting the weirdness aside, Klarion rolled out of bed, stretching away the stiffness of the previous day’s events. His many scars were pulled tight across his body, but in the long weeks since he first met Alesin and Rolfun, he had grown accustomed to the pulling. Once he got up and moving, he would cease to notice them. After pulling back on his Academy uniform, which for some reason still felt fresh against his body, he secured his greatsword in its harness across his back and made his way down the hall to where he remembered the kitchen to be.
Only navigating the manor proved more challenging than that. The hallways looked much the same with no one else living in the manor. As a result, he ended up taking several wrong turns, opening doors to several rooms filled with nothing but dust and cobwebs. Eventually, he was able to find the kitchen, and this time, he made sure to remember what hallway connected it to the room he had slept in last night. He hoped he would not have issues finding his way around later that night when he came back, but it would likely be a few days before he was comfortable in his new home. It was just that much bigger than his apartment back on Earth.
More deeply exploring the cabinets and pantry that he had only given the most cursory looks into last night quickly led to him finding the ingredients he was looking for: eggs that looked like they came from a chicken, a loaf of bread, and some spices. He wasn’t sure who had stocked the kitchen and left the rest of the manor in its abandoned state, but he was thankful he could make his own breakfast in the peace and quiet.
He approached the stove, its sleek, polished surface embedded with faint runes of some sort. Hoping it was similar to the stove he had used back on Earth, he tried to figure out which one to press. Tentatively, he touched one, and the nearest corner, just large enough for a small pan, flared to life. Encouraged and relieved he hadn’t accidentally set the kitchen on fire, he retrieved a pan from the rack and set it on the stove to heat up. He wasn’t the best at cracking eggs, and since he didn’t want to pull shell pieces from a pan sitting on what he assumed to be magical flames, he broke them in a bowl first. He couldn’t help but have a sense of bitter satisfaction when the very first egg yolk took a full quarter of the shell with it into the bowl. Maybe one day he would get better at breaking eggs.
Once all the eggs were broken, yolks in the bowl without any pieces of shell, he dropped in a few pinches of salt and pepper, and then poured it into the pan. The eggs began to sizzle almost immediately, the pleasant aroma filling the kitchen. While the eggs were cooking, he sliced a few pieces of bread off the loaf. Not wanting to risk pressing a wrong rune on the stove, he speared each piece of bread on a knife and held it low over the flames cooking his eggs. He smiled as the bread started to get brown and crispy. Once everything was the way he wanted it, he hit the rune again to turn off the stove. It was at that moment that he realized he had no idea where the butter was. Or even if there was butter in the kitchen in the first place. With the eggs already starting to cool, he pivoted away from the eggs and buttered toast he had been planning to have to instead pile the eggs onto a piece of toast and then covered it with the other piece to make an egg sandwich. The first bite was not bad, especially as there had been no small pieces of shell that snuck into it. In no time the sandwich was gone and, after setting the dish pan in the sink, Klarion was ready to head out for the day.
He walked to the front door of the manor, only getting lost once along the way. On the inside of the door, a small hook caught his eye. Hanging from it was a keyring that held a heavy iron key and several smaller ones, all inscribed with the crest of House Blacksword. Apparently, he had missed last night when J-65 had left. Taking the keys off the hook, he tried the largest one in the front door once he was outside. It turned easily, locking it with a satisfying click. While he was curious as to what the smaller keys went to, he had class to worry about first, so he simply put the whole keyring in his pocket.
The side street the House Blacksword manor was on was empty of life. Though, given the empty apartments on either side, Klarion had to admit that he was not surprised. After a few turns, he arrived back on a street he recognized from having walked down it with J-65 yesterday. Though it was still early in the morning, he recognized several other first-year nobles by their uniforms. Apparently he was not the only one who had thought to get an early start today.
Thankfully, the walk to the Lecture Hall where his Foundations of History course was being held was uneventful. Individual students gradually turned into small groups, all heading in the same direction Klarion was. While most of the students still seemed to give him a wide berth, he also didn’t sense any outright hostility from them. He thought it was the greatsword across his back at first, but some of the other students were carrying weapons of various sorts as well. Remembering his interactions with the Brightcoin scion yesterday, the general reluctance to engage with him made some sense. While still frustrating in some ways, at least now he didn’t have to worry about fending off barbs or glares, and could instead focus on what really mattered right now: his education.
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When he finally got to the Lecture Hall, he ignored the students who paused to mingle outside and instead went right up to the nearest heavy oak door to go inside. His first time inside the building revealed the interior to be as impressive as the exterior, with tall ceilings and even more works of art along the walls showing the history of learning in the Empire. While part of him wanted to linger for a closer look at some of the paintings near him, as soon as he saw a large board on the far wall that appeared to list classrooms and courses, he quickly set that desire aside. Ignoring the other few students that had started to trickle in, he stepped over to the board and quickly found where Room 101 was. Following the designated arrow soon brought him to the door of the first class he would be taking as a recognized scion of an Archducal House sworn to an Empire built on might and magic that he hadn’t even known existed only a few weeks ago. Strange how quickly life can change.
Setting the thought aside, Klarion pushed the door open only to immediately pause upon entering the room. Rows of polished wooden desks stretched out in semi-circular tiers. Since he was the first in the room, all the seats were still open, so he had his pick of where to sit. Considering his options, he went with a seat near the back. Not having much of a choice about where to put it, he leaned his greatsword against the back of the chair then he sat. Turning in the seat, he knew he had picked the right spot in the room. There, he would be able to not only focus on the professor but also observe his peers without drawing undue attention. That, and maybe his classmates would ignore him as well. As he settled in to wait for the start of the class, students started to trickle in in ones and twos. Klarion eagerly scanned each new face, but as the room started to fill up and neither Valdre nor Redrek appeared, he grudgingly concluded that the half-elf and hobgoblin probably had a different class schedule from him. On the other hand, none of the scions of the Archducal Houses appeared to be enrolled in the course either, unless they planned to be late.
Of course, both those realizations were completely overpowered by the fact that everyone around him was pulling out various styles of notebooks and writing implements, and he hadn’t thought to bring anything in his haste to get to class.
Frustrated with the fact he forgot anything to take notes with, and bored with the watching, now that he figured neither of his new friends would be coming, he opted to look outside until class started.
Just as he was settling in to watch a beetle crawl over the exterior of the glass window, a figure slid into the seat next to him. Turning in his seat brought him nearly face to face with Hector, the scion who had waited to talk to him yesterday in the Amphitheater of Induction. Hector offered a polite smile, his bearing every bit as composed and confident as it had been when they first met.
“Good morning, Klarion,” Hector said, his tone courteous.
Klarion hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Good morning, Hector.”
“Ready for your first class?”
“I think so,” Klarion replied, but gave a slight shrug. “Though I’m not sure what to expect.”
Hector leaned to the side, eyes glancing around the room at the other students present. Apparently finding what he wanted, he turned back to Klarion with a smile. “I have a distant cousin who attended this course a few years ago, so before I came, I asked them some questions. From what they said, Foundations of History is straightforward, but it can be dense. Depending on what professor is assigned the course this year, we might get off easy or we might be drowned in an overwhelming amount of material every lecture.”
When Klarion didn’t immediately respond, Hector leaned a bit closer to him to set a blank notebook and pencil on his desk, his voice dropping in volume as he did so. “Let me offer you some advice — focus less on trying to write down everything the professor says. Summarize key points, especially dates, names, and how events connect.” He smiled. “Based on what my cousin said, history professors live to test how well you grasp the bigger picture.”
Despite himself, Klarion listened carefully, grateful for the insight. While he still held some reservations towards Hector, his continued friendly attitude towards him was beginning to change his opinion of the other scion. Perhaps he should give Hector the benefit of the doubt? With neither Valdre nor Redrek in this class with him, maybe he should consider seeing if Hector could be a friend as well.
“And one more thing,” Hector said, leaning back into his chair. “You’ll want to form a study group at some point, too. The sooner the better. And not just for sharing notes — though that helps too — but for discussing concepts and theories. My cousin said the professors here are subtle, and that half the time, what they don’t say is more important than what they do. A good group can help you catch things you’d miss on your own.”
Klarion tilted his head slightly, his voice low as he mused aloud to himself, “A study group… might actually be a good idea. I mean, it could help me with —”
“I’d love to join,” Hector interjected, cutting Klarion off mid-thought.
Klarion blinked, turning to face his fellow scion. Hector’s sharp smile was firmly in place, radiating confidence, but there was an undeniable twinkle in his eye — one that betrayed his awareness that Klarion had not actually been addressing him directly.
That’s not exactly what I meant,” Klarion said, awkwardly shifting in his seat. “I was just thinking out loud. I haven’t decided anything yet.”
Hector once again leaned closer, resting his chin on one hand as if he were sharing a private joke. “Of course, of course. But if you do decide, consider me interested. A proper study group should have at least one person who knows how to get things done.” His tone was light, but there was a trace of smugness woven in. “And I do so love to volunteer.”
“Right. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Hector’s grin widened as if Klarion’s guarded response had been a small victory. “Take your time. But don’t wait too long — success here is all about the timing.”
Having made his pitch, Hector returned his attention to his own notebook, idly drawing abstract shapes across a page and leaving Klarion to mull over the unexpected interaction they had just had. For all that the initial interaction with the grey-eyed scion had set off internal alarms, the conversation that they had just shared had been better. Almost like interacting with someone who might become a friend. Maybe he’s not so bad after all.
The door burst open with a resounding bang, slamming against the wall as the professor strode in.