“Lili!” a voice called out to her as Liliana opened the door to the first year class S dorms. With an ease that spoke of many avoided hugs, Liliana side stepped and slid past the princess who had attempted to wrap Liliana in an embrace upon her arrival.

“I’m sweaty,” Liliana cautioned as she continued walking away from the door and towards the common area where Marianne had originated from. She could see a few of their classmates spread around. No heroes, thankfully. Alistair and Emyr were seated on a couch by themselves and had looked up at Marianne’s outburst.

“Where did you go? You missed breakfast!” Marianne pouted, following after Liliana like a crestfallen puppy.

She didn’t try to hug her again, thankfully. Liliana didn’t mind the hugs, but she felt gross. The workout of her spell had drenched her in sweat, as if she’d been lifting weights with her own limbs and not her spell. She’d gotten a level in [Threads of Control], though, bringing it up to level 43.

“I was training,” Liliana said simply as she waved at her brother and friend before turning and making her way to her room. She wanted to wash before she ate lunch and went to the library.

“What? Why? Class hasn’t even started!” Marianne followed Liliana without hesitation, confusion plain in her voice.

“Class might not have started, but our time here has. I’m not going to waste a second of my limited time here.” Liliana explained as she entered her room and gathered the clean uniform and towel she’d left out for her to use when she returned.

“You’re insane! Shouldn’t you be resting? You spent the entire past year either in a dungeon, or preparing and training for one,” Marianne said as she dropped onto Liliana’s bed, Polaris following the princess and curling up at her side. Marianne absentmindedly dropped her hand onto his head and began to scratch behind his ears.

Liliana could bemoan the fact that Marianne was so comfortable in her room, and what a strange thing that was as Marianne had never visited her at the manor so her being at home in Liliana’s dorm room was an unexpected turn of events, but she found the sight endearing if she was honest.

“There isn’t time for rest, Marianne. While I’m sure many in our year share your sentiment, there will be those who don’t, who will use the next few free days we have to progress, taking advantage of the many privileges afforded to us. I won’t let myself fall behind.” Liliana said, her voice cool as she leaned against the door to her bathroom and fixed the princess with a steady gaze.

“It’s not a competition. Besides, we don’t even know if these elusive ‘they’ exist at all. You could be preparing for nothing,” Marianne said, but her voice was soft, unsure, lacking in conviction. As if she didn’t fully believe her own words. Good. She’d noticed too, then. Marianne was to be the next queen, she should have been trained to pick up on small details and trends. To predict and understand based on both what was said and what was not, what was seen and, more importantly, unseen.

Even without her god-granted knowledge, Liliana would’ve thought something was off about the school. There was too much favoritism for the top class, and too many seeds of discord sown. If the school was not built to test the students, not just with their coursework, but also by using their own peers to drive them to further heights, then all classes would be treated the same.

They wanted lower classes to resent, to covet, what was freely given to higher classes. To strive for it. And they wanted that threat of losing their privileges to light a fire under those who were already at the top, so they’d become even better, always pushing because there would ever be someone one step behind them, ready to topple them from their throne. The Academy hated complacency, of that Liliana was certain.

“Are you sure?” Liliana asked and, at that, Marianne quieted, shaking her head after a few silent moments.

“Even if it’s not a competition, even if there’s no ‘they’ at all, it’s wasteful to not take advantage of what has been given to us. We won’t have these facilities forever, only for a measly four years. Every second lost is a level we don’t get in a skill or spell. Or is knowledge lost we will never gain. Levels and knowledge that one day might be the things that would’ve saved your life.” Liliana took some pity on her friend, further explaining her reason.

Marianne didn’t have the life experience Liliana did. For the princess of their country, leveling was as safe an experience as it could be made. Dungeons were something equatable with a walk in the park with the amount of guards that joined her in them. The closest Marianne had come to death was before she Awakened, when she still had to contend with her illness. But she’d never had to experience the feeling of utter powerlessness when an assassin far above her level plunged a dagger towards her heart. Never stood on her own against a beast in a fight that would leave one of them dead, with no guarantee it wouldn’t be her.

Liliana had faced death repeatedly, had turned him into a foe meant to be defeated, not a faraway eventuality. She’d stared into his eyes time and again and knew a universal truth. The only thing that would prevent death from taking her life before she was ready was strength. Power. The power to turn those who sought her life into defeated enemies, crushed like bugs under her heel. She couldn’t entirely stop death. She knew that better than most. But she could do everything in her power to ensure the next time she took his hand was at the end of a very long, fulfilled life.

So what she said might be rough, harsh for someone as sheltered as Marianne to hear, but it was essential. As a princess and future queen, she’d face her own enemies sooner rather than later. Her mother couldn’t shield her forever, as she had for sixteen years. There would not always be guards or knights to protect her, or they would not always be strong enough. There was never a guarantee that someone else would be there to fight her battles, and one day she may need to pick up the blade and fight for her life on her own. The stronger she was, the better her chances for survival. And if Liliana was going to live a long life, she wanted those she cared about there for all of it, too.

“I’m going to shower and then we can go eat something. Afterwards I want to stop by the library. Do you want to come with me?” Liliana offered, her voice softer and warmer. Marianne looked up and searched Liliana’s face for a moment before sighing loudly and giving the girl a wan smile.

“Yea, I guess I can start getting ahead of coursework.” Marianne agreed and with a smile, Liliana turned and left her friend to wash off the dirt and sweat from her morning.

Thirty minutes later, Liliana was leaving their dorms with Marianne, Alistair and Emyr in tow. Even more of their class was either awake or had returned to the dorm, for the common room was active and full of noisier as students began to make socialise, testing the waters, building the beginnings of bonds that would see them through the next four years. Hopefully.

Liliana noticed, but did not remark on the fact that Alistair had not been engaging in any introductions or conversations with their classmates. The glances made by the other students spoke enough. Not everyone at the academy was from the Cista Queendom, but enough of them were. And so many of the students from their own country were nobles that there was no possibility that the events from a year ago would be kept secret.

It hurt, more than Liliana would admit out loud, to see her once bright, extroverted brother turned into a shy introvert. Every longing glance he sent towards groups of friends laughing and joking was a dagger of guilt drilled into her heart. A burden she’d agreed to bear when she made her choice. A choice she knew her brother agreed with and would defend to his dying breath. That knowledge might take the edge off the guilt, but it didn’t erase it.

“Do you think they’d let us into the personal training rooms before the start of classes?” Alistair asked as they walked the path towards the main campus.

“I’m surrounded by training addicts,” Marianne muttered darkly, but there was affection in her voice too.

“I’m not sure. We could ask a teacher or an upperclassman if we see them in the cafeteria,” Liliana said with a shrug, ignoring Marianne’s comment. She hadn’t been sure herself if they could use the training rooms yet, which was part of why she’d practiced in the forest. Her head turned as they passed the outside training grounds. The sounds of spells going off stopped their entire group and, with a silent agreement, they deviated from their path and headed towards them.

It didn’t take long to spot the culprits of the noise. Several class A upperclassmen were engaged in a mock battle. Spells, Skills, Abilities, and weapons flew through the air at speeds that were nearly impossible to follow. On more than one occasion, Liliana saw missed attacks hit the barrier surrounding the training ground, the only thing protecting the small crowd of watchers from annihilation.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Liliana tore her eyes away and as she looked around, she saw most of the training grounds were occupied, though few were as flashy as the class A upperclassmen, but all were training just as hard.

“Well, we know the outside training grounds are open, at least,” Liliana commented as her group pulled away after several moments of open-mouthed watching.

Liliana kept her eyes moving as they continued to the cafeteria, and she saw students rushing around the campus as if class was in session. The cafeteria was far more lively than it had been during their tour; the levels dedicated to the lower classes full to bursting, as the majority of the student population was part of them. As their group climbed the stairs, the cacophony characteristic of so many teenagers and young adults cramped together in a small space became less obnoxious.

Compared to the lower levels, the class S level was practically barren. Groups of upperclassmen spread about here and there, with more than a few sitting alone. Nothing close to the full eighty class S students that the school had, perhaps closer to a third of them.

Liliana’s group grabbed their lunch, Liliana electing for roasted Quillhog herself, coated in a rich truffle sauce with a side of fresh spring vegetables. The food here was even advertised with the buffs it provided. Her own gave a 20% bonus to Stamina and Vitality regeneration, though she’d selected it because of how good it smelled, not because of its buffs. She doubted she’d be running around in the Library, and at worst she’d have to fear a paper cut. Her Vitality wasn’t so dire that she had to fear for her life from a paper foe.

“You ask,” Emyr hissed after their group had settled into a free table and begun to eat. He and Alistair had almost immediately started arguing about who would approach an upperclassman to ask if the training rooms were open for them yet. Liliana watched silently with amusement as she dug into her food.

“No, you. If they find out, it’s me. They probably won’t even talk to me.” Alistair brought up a good argument, but logical points wouldn’t overcome Emyr’s deep-seated hatred of talking to new people.

“Well, what if they get so annoyed a first year is bothering them and they turn me into dust?” Emyr shot back, glancing around at the other upperclassmen in the room as if they’d decide to do that simply for the insult of first years being in their presence. Liliana’s eyes shifted to the side as she heard a deep sigh and felt Marianne push back from the table, though the boys didn’t notice, too engrossed in their argument.

“They’re not going to murder you for asking a question. Besides, if you’re worried about dying, why would you want me to go?” Alistair insisted.

“Excuse me?” Marianne’s voice cut through their argument, more because it was coming from behind them rather than in front of them, where they expected her to be.

Emyr and Alistair whipped their heads around to see Marianne had left their table to approach a pair of upperclassmen. The princess was beaming at the upperclassmen, and they turned easily to address her, no hostility in their expressions. In fact, they looked a little indulging, like they found it cute that a younger year had braved them to ask a question. Perhaps they’d heard Emyr and Alistair’s bickering.

“Hello, are you a first year?” one of the upperclassmen addressed Marianne, a dæmon woman with light brown hair, rich earth brown horns curled like ram’s horns and piercing heterochromatic eyes, one purple and one blue. Her skin was dark, a few shades darker than her horns and her jewel colored eyes glowed in contrast and with the unearthly luster of all dæmon eyes. She gave Marianne a warm smile that invited the girl to continue speaking.

“Yes! I’m so sorry to bother you, but we were wondering if the personal training rooms are open to be used?” Marianne asked sweetly. The woman’s smile widened, her eyebrows raising a little as she did, her eyes turned to their group for a moment and Liliana would swear she saw her nod slightly, approvingly.

“Day one and you’re looking to start training? That’s good. Many take this time to relax. A choice that will come to bite those who make it in the ass soon enough. The training rooms are open, there should be a few teaching assistants in the main training rooms. Just tell them what you’re doing so they can monitor you and you’ll be good to go.” The upperclassmen informed Marianne, though the way she projected her voice and how she looked back at their group made it clear she was talking to all of them. Liliana activated [Identify] out of curiosity.

Kor’iat Ruakui

Age: 18

Level: 211

Rank: 4

Class: Infernal Runecaster

Health: 2,100

Mana: 25,350

Huh, I wonder what a Runecaster is. Rune mage, I suppose? I guess she has a focus on Fire or Dark effects based on her race and class name. Another glass canon build, are they popular? Makes sense as there’s a lot of noble children here and nobles do love to stand out. Powerful casters certainly stand out. Liliana specifically ignored the part of her mind telling her she was a glass canon build.

Unlike mages that ignored most stats except for Intelligence and Wisdom, her build let her avoid hits with her Speed and Endurance. She could outrun most attacks and outlast most in a battle. If glass canon builds were as popular as they were looking to be, Liliana might have an easier time here than she thought. Especially if they were mages, which were often stationary thanks to the long cast times of powerful spells.

“Thank you so very much!” Marianne smiled at the upperclassmen again, waving as she walked back towards their table. Kor’iat watched for a moment before returning to whatever conversation she’d been in when Marianne had interrupted.

“It’s a good thing we decided to start early. Seems this place is as rigorous as mother warned me,” Marianne said as she plopped back down next to Liliana.

“Yea, good thing,” Liliana drawled, tone tinted with sarcasm as she looked at her friend. The friend who had been ready to use the days before classes began as a vacation. Marianne pointedly did not look at her as she ate the rest of her lunch.

“Wonder why they didn’t tell us that in the tour, or the information they sent with the letters,” Alistair pondered as they finished up their lunch.

“They want to see who takes initiative,” Liliana said simply.

It seemed obvious to her as she put the pieces together, based on her previous knowledge and what she’d seen. Classes might not have started, but school had begun the second they stepped on the campus. They were already being tested. Liliana just hoped she wasn't found lacking.

“They should just tell us this stuff,” Marianne grumbled as they left the cafeteria, waving at the upperclassmen who had helped them.

“Does the enemy general let you know his plans ahead of time? Do other countries tell you they’re planning on invading? Do your enemies send letters to give you a heads up to the assassin they’re sending that night?” Emyr was the one to speak up, his quiet and solemn voice holding a heavy weight. Lilian was reminded that like her and Alistair, he came from a military family as well.

“They’re seeing who takes everything at face value, who takes the initiative, who digs deeper.” Liliana added on, continuing where Emyr left off easily.

“Ugh. Who knew school would involve so much-“ Marianne cut off, waving a hand lazily in the air as she searched for the right word.

“Thinking?” Liliana supplied with a cheeky grin.

“Oh, hush you,” Marianne flapped her hand against Liliana’s arm.

“Suspicion. Intrigue.” Marianne finished.

“Oh, Lili will do great here then. She’s suspicious of everything. I saw her giving her chair a glare before, like it might secretly be a monster.” Alistair jumped in with a smirk.

“I am not that suspicious. Besides, after that Mimic dungeon, I’m more surprised you’re not suspicious of furniture. I half expected you to smuggle a Mimic out to hide in my jewelry box,” Liliana accused.

“He tried, it almost took off his hand though,” Emyr said, revealing his friend’s secret with a smirk.

“Is that how that happened? I thought you said it was when you were fighting them! That injury messed up our timing while we waited for you to heal. Bones take ages!” Liliana turned to her brother with an accusatory glare. He was looking at Emyr as if his friend had mortally wounded him.

“Em, you weren’t supposed to tell!” Alistair whined, “and I was fighting. The Mimic certainly couldn’t tell the difference between peaceful capture and a fight to the death. And I did kill it after it nearly took my hand off.” He finished with a grumble, whispering quietly, “it would’ve been a good prank.”

“Well… I doubt the Academy has any hidden Mimics in the furniture,” Marianne said between soft giggles as she watched the trio with amusement.

“You can never be sure, though.” Liliana insisted and if the four of them stopped and stared at the closest piece of furniture, a rather innocent looking bench.

“Not a Mimic,” Alistair said quietly.

“Yea,” Liliana agreed, but her eyes narrowed as she assessed the bench.

“Probably.” Emyr said, shooting one last look at the bench.

“Oh, come on! It’s not a Mimic!” Marianne hissed at them, though Liliana noted she had shifted so Alistair was between the princess and the bench.

“Then go sit on it,” Liliana challenged.

“Would you look at that? We’re right by the library! Didn’t you want to take a look, Lili? We’ll see you two at dinner. Let us know how the training rooms are! Okay, bye!” Marianne rushed out, grabbing Liliana’s hand and dragging her towards the large building that housed the library. It took a moment, but as the two girls made their way to the building, it was to the sound of loud laughter from the boys, Liliana’s own laughter soon joining the chorus.