Ashern City, 1st of Brightforge, year 315 UC

Nileth Hall rose before Bryan, its weathered stone facade stretching four stories high. Golden banners bearing the Reinhart crest rippled in the morning breeze, while tall windows reflected the early sunlight. Two stone griffins flanked the entrance, their wings spread wide.

A handful of students in matching black and gold uniforms made their way up the broad stone steps. Bryan counted six others—each likely part of the Excellence Camp, given their early arrival. A tall girl with perfectly styled auburn hair strode confidently through the doors, while a shorter boy with ink-stained fingers hesitated at the threshold, clutching a worn leather satchel.

"Quite the fancy cage they've built."

Zoltan transmitted from Bryan's pocket.

"Though I suppose it beats your old room."

Bryan adjusted his uniform and started up the steps, noting how the other students carried themselves. Some had the unmistakable bearing of nobility, while others showed signs of more humble origins.

"I'm just ready to get this over with. You think they'll talk my ears off?"

Bryan asked as he entered the building right behind another student.

"Probably. That's usually how these things go."

Zoltan confirmed.

Bryan fought a groan. He’d already endured one long-winded speech from the higher-ups in the Inquisition, and the prospect of sitting through another one left him feeling restless. Maybe if he positioned himself near the back, he could slip into a daydream

'Wonder if I can take a nap.'

He thought to himself as he glanced around the building before his eyes landed on a woman smiling at him.

She was tall and lean with short blonde hair and blue eyes as deep as the ocean. He would have assumed she was a student like himself, but her outfit was white and gold.

"Welcome to Reinhart Institute of War, let me be the first to congratulate you on your acceptance into our academy. If you haven't been told already by your parents, we are very proud of you. Out of the three hundred incoming freshmen, you are one of the elite that our board members selected to attend the Excellence camp. I hope you know what that means."

Bryan nodded once, feeling her gaze linger as if searching for a flicker of excitement or pride. He kept his face neutral, though he couldn’t help but notice the student nearby—a boy, barely able to contain his excitement, grinning from ear to ear as another staff member delivered the same congratulatory message.

"I'm sure you're excited and would like to be on your way, but the headmaster has a few words to say to each and every one of you. If you’ll follow me, I’ll lead you to the gymnasium."

The woman said.

Following behind her, he wondered what her role was in this academy. Was she only a guide, or one of the instructors?

Not everyone played a combat role, there were those who supported the fighters from the rear. It was hard to tell what a mage could do until you saw a few of their spells.

"This is Nileth Hall, where all of your—"

Bryan interrupted her causing her to stop mid-stride

"No need to continue. I’ll hear the whole spiel soon enough. No offense, but I’d rather not have it twice."

He sounded rude, but at least he was being honest with her.

A flicker of surprise crossed her face, quickly masked by a polite expression. He could tell he’d startled her, but he didn’t regret it. Being spoon-fed expectations and scripted reassurances grated on him.

She raised an eyebrow, studying him with a touch more scrutiny.

"I don't mean to be rude, but I'd rather just experience it all for myself. Someone telling me what to expect just… ruins the fun. I’m sure you get it."

For a moment, she remained silent, then inclined her head in acknowledgment, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"Very well then."

The woman led Bryan through a set of polished oak doors and into the gymnasium. The space was vast, with high ceilings and gleaming wooden floors. Twenty chairs had been arranged in neat rows at the center of the room, most already occupied by students who turned to watch the newcomers.

Bryan's gaze swept upward, taking in the decorative banners. The Reinhart crest dominated the display—a golden griffin clutching crossed swords against a black background. Flanking it were four smaller flags, each bearing the distinct emblems of prominent noble houses: the Hayes family's thorned rose, the Blackthorn's twisted tree, the Landegre's crescent moon, and the Daybreak's rising sun.

"Quite the collection of vultures they've gathered."

Zoltan transmitted from Bryan's pocket.

Bryan knew he meant the noble houses, as they were some of the most powerful ones in the kingdom. They would be keeping an eye on what went on within these walls, and he was sure it was all part of some political move.

It always was with nobility.

Fifteen students already occupied the chairs, arranged in four rows of five. Bryan noted with mild satisfaction that one of the only remaining seats was in the back row, center position. Perfect for observing without drawing attention.

As he claimed the empty chair, the boy to his right immediately turned with an eager smile. His blonde hair was perfectly styled, and his blue eyes sparkled with enthusiasm that made Bryan inwardly cringe.

"Hi there! I'm Alexander Silvermark, but everyone calls me Alex. Looks like we'll be neighbors for this orientation."

He extended his hand in greeting.

Bryan glanced at the offered hand, then deliberately crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat. To his left, a girl with coffee-brown hair, matching eyes, and a spray of freckles across her nose seemed to be fighting back a smile at his obvious dismissal.

"Making friends already, I see."

Zoltan commented dryly.

"I'm not here to make friends."

Bryan muttered aloud, responding more to Zoltan than Alexander. The blonde boy's face flushed red with embarrassment, and his outstretched hand slowly retreated.

The freckled girl to Bryan's left let out an amused laugh.

"If you're not here to make friends, then what are you here for?"

Bryan kept his gaze fixed forward, already regretting his choice of seating. Of all the empty chairs, he had to pick the one between two chatterboxes. Great.

When he didn’t answer, the girl leaned forward, glancing past him with a mischievous grin aimed at Alexander.

"My, our new neighbor is quite rude, isn't he?"

Her tone carried a bit of amusement.

"Lucky he's cute."

Bryan resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but Zoltan’s quiet laugh hummed in his ear.

"Congratulations, you've managed to make both friends and enemies in record time. Though I suppose that's a special talent of yours. And did you hear that? She called you cute. I like this one, we should keep her."

Zoltan transmitted.

Bryan's jaw clenched. The last thing he needed was encouragement from Zoltan on this topic, but his mouse companion seemed quite entertained by the situation.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Alexander, seemingly recovering his confidence, turned his smile on the freckled girl.

"Well, that’s what you get when they throw a bunch of nobles together, right? So, how about you drop the whole 'I'm better than you' act and introduce yourself. We’re stuck together for the next month, after all."

The freckled girl added as she glanced back at Bryan.

"You're really going to be a pain in my side, aren't you?"

Bryan finally muttered, scanning the room for any empty seats to relocate to. But every seat was now occupied, leaving him trapped between the two of them. Sometimes, he wished he were deaf, just to tune out this incessant chatter and enjoy some peace for once.

"Only for now."

She replied without missing a beat.

"Whatever."

Bryan sighed as he closed his eyes. Friendly small talk wasn’t exactly in his skill set, and he knew it. Years in an enclosed environment under the Inquisition’s watch had taught him to follow orders, sharpen skills, survive—but not to make friends. And certainly not how to handle people his own age.

People like Alex and this girl, he thought bitterly, weren’t part of his training. They had been raised with smiles, introductions, and polished exchanges. He was here to get through this camp and leave it behind, not to charm strangers with niceties he had no use for.

"Quick question if you will, is this."

She pointed at Bryan's face from head to chin.

"our white hair—is it natural? And your eyes… I’ve never seen red ones like that. Is it related to your powers or something?"

She asked, leaning closer.

It had been a long time since anyone asked about his appearance so directly. He’d gotten used to people skirting around it, their gazes quick but silent, usually too polite—or too intimidated—to question it aloud. Why did he look the way he did? He’d wondered that himself for years, but his father’s vague explanations had been the only answer he’d ever gotten.

A mutation, his father had said, a quirk of his magic core that had altered his physical features. But Bryan had learned early on that explaining this only invited more questions, questions he didn’t have the patience or inclination to answer.

On the way here to the academy he had run across a few people taking glances every so often, but because of the private cabin on the train ride here, he had not paid it much attention. Even the woman who led him here did not mention anything about his appearance.

"Natural."

Bryan replied, not bothering to open his eyes.

Alexander chimed in from his other side, leaning in with clear fascination.

"For real? I thought it was dye or something. Also, why do you sound so dead on the inside?"

He asked.

Bryan exhaled slowly, the threads of his patience wearing thin. Opening his eyes, he fixed both of them with a pointed stare.

"What's up with the two of you? Why are you bothering me?"

Bryan asked.

"Well, isn't that obvious? We’re going to be teammates during our time here. Surely you knew that—the guide should have explained things to you."

The freckled girl told him.

Bryan could hear Zoltan’s laughter in his mind, a dry chuckle filled with the kind of amusement that only added to Bryan’s annoyance.

"Now, would you look at that? Someone should have… listened to her."

The little mouse barely managed to say through the laugh.

Alexander nodded in agreement, apparently finding the situation equally amusing.

"It's why everyone's been cautious where they sat. The high rankers are up there."

He pointed to the first two rows, where a handful of students sat.

"Or at least, we're assuming that. It’s hard to tell since they keep rankings so hush-hush. We were told not to discuss it, and there are people watching. So, everyone’s going off of clues—powers, family backgrounds, that sort of thing.”

Bryan glanced around, scanning the faces in the rows ahead. He recognized none of them, which was no surprise. He knew of the noble houses and their signature abilities, courtesy of his Inquisition training, but here, without introductions, they were just faces. Some might belong to the top families, but unless they bore obvious distinguishing traits, like his own hair and eyes, it was anyone’s guess who was who.

He could probably figure it out by talking to people, trading names, and piecing things together from snippets of conversation. But that thought alone made him tired.

The freckled girl stifled a laugh.

"So, you’re back here, stuck with us, and there’s no changing that.”

She pointed to Alexander.

"He's a commoner, with a water core and I'm Sabrina Rigof. House Rigof. Let's just say I'm close to the single digits."

She laughed again.

Bryan took note of the name—Rigof. He hadn’t heard of it, which likely meant it was a minor house from some rural province. Hardly anything to boast about, though, then again, he himself wasn’t of noble blood, so who was he to judge?

"So, care to share something about yourself?"

Sabrina asked as she gazed at Bryan.

"Not really. You can't get rid of me, so it doesn't matter. And it seems I can’t get rid of you."

Bryan told her as he shut his eyes once more.

Sabrina laughed, the sound bright and unbothered.

“You’re a real charmer, you know that?”

He could feel Alexander and Sabrina exchanging glances over him, their murmured conversation continuing without his participation. They seemed content to chatter on without him, and for that, he was grateful. Sabrina soon shifted her focus to the student beside her, and Bryan allowed himself a small exhale of relief. Finally, a moment of peace.

Zoltan’s voice echoed in his mind, an amused whisper.

“You know, I think you might have missed some crucial information by tuning out that poor guide. Maybe then you’d have picked a better seat.”

Bryan clenched his jaw, unwilling to give Zoltan the satisfaction of a response. Not that it mattered. As far as he was concerned, the rankings here were just numbers. Titles on a piece of paper that would mean nothing in the real world, outside these carefully controlled walls.

"Oh, I think it's starting."

Alexander said causing Bryan to open one eye.

The gymnasium lights dimmed slightly as five figures strode toward the center of the room. Four wore white uniforms that seemed to catch what little light remained, while one woman stood out in her distinctive military attire, her dark blue overcoat flowing behind her.

The central figure, a tall man with streaks of gray in his black hair, positioned himself in the middle of the group.

"It is an honor to be the headmaster of this prestigious academy."

His voice carried easily through the space.

"And while I welcome you all to Excellence Camp, there are certain matters that must be addressed before we proceed."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the assembled students.

"First and foremost, rank here means everything. This is something you will come to understand intimately during your time here."

His lips curved into a slight smile.

"If you last, that is."

Several students shifted in their seats. Bryan rolled his eyes at the dramatic delivery, earning a worried glance from Alexander.

"Did he just say 'if we last'?"

Alexander whispered, leaning slightly toward Sabrina.

"How can a military academy just expel its students? Or does he mean we can die? They can't expel us, can they?"

Sabrina's face had lost some of its earlier playfulness.

"They're not supposed to."

She muttered back, her eyes fixed on the instructors.

The headmaster continued.

"When the academic year begins, there will be 300 students walking these halls. By graduation, only 50 will remain."

He let that sink in before adding.

"This academy wasn't built to produce average soldiers, nor is it a social club for your families to foster greater relations."

"Only the best of the best will walk out of here with their heads held high."

Another pause, this one accentuated by a thin, humorless smile.

"But I'm getting ahead of myself."

With a casual wave of his hand, he gestured to the four people flanking him.

"These four will be your instructors during your time at camp. This honor is not given lightly. Each is an established military combatant who has chosen to share their expertise with the next generation. Some of you may even know their names—many of them have earned reputations that precede them."

Bryan studied each instructor in turn. The woman in the military coat stood out not just for her different attire, but for the intensity in her stance. Unlike the others, she seemed to be actively assessing each student.

"They will introduce themselves when the moment presents itself."

The headmaster continued, before pausing with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"But first, it would be best to get the ranks situated."

He gestured to the seated students.

"As you were briefed earlier, the row you're sitting in represents your team for the duration of your stay at camp."

The headmaster clapped once, the sound echoing through the gymnasium.

"Now, why don't we start in reverse order? When I call your rank, stand so everyone can know who you are. Let's begin with rank twenty."

A nervous tension filled the room. Students glanced at each other, wondering who would be revealed as the lowest-ranked among them.

The woman in the military coat shifted slightly, her gaze sweeping across the students. For a brief moment, her eyes met Bryan's, and he felt a flash of recognition - not of her specifically, but of the way she carried herself.

It reminded him of the Inquisition's elite operatives, people who had seen real combat and survived to tell about it.

"Ah, I almost forgot. I should introduce myself properly. I am Octavius Reinhart, Headmaster of the Reinhart Institute of War."

Octavius spoke again.

A murmur ran through the students at the name. Even Bryan, who had been briefed extensively about the academy, felt a slight tension in his shoulders. The Reinhart name carried weight, and now he understood why the woman's presence seemed so familiar - she had to be Gloria Reinhart, whose reputation in military circles was legendary.

"Rank twenty."

Octavius announced.

"Stand up and introduce yourself to your fellow students."

Alexander shifted nervously in his seat before standing up. All eyes turned to him, some with barely concealed relief, others with thinly veiled contempt.

Octavius nodded once.

"Your name?"

"Alexander Silvermark."

Alexander said quickly before dropping back into his seat.

A man in a white uniform approached Alexander, handing him a thin blue card. Murmurs rippled through the room as students craned their necks to get a better look.

"Many of you are wondering what Alexander has just received, rest assured, each of you will be given one when it is your turn. What he has obtained is his academic card, which can only be used on campus."

Octavius said.

He paused, letting his gaze sweep across the room.

"This card will be essential for everything here, as no one on campus will accept regular currency. Instead, you will use academic credits—AC for short. Money, food, clothes, rooms—everything and anything you can think of costs AC here."

Several students exchanged worried glances as Octavius continued.

"The amount of AC you start with is based on your initial ranking. However, be assured that more can be earned through various means."

"Rank nineteen, stand, and introduce yourself."

A girl in the first row rose gracefully to her feet. Her dark auburn hair was perfectly styled, and she carried herself with the unmistakable bearing of nobility.

Bryan couldn't tell how she looked from the front due to where he was at, and the black and gold uniform wasn't doing anything to reveal any of her features. Unlike the males who wore slacks, the females had the option to wear them or skirts.

She wore a black skirt that reached her knees.

"Alessia Hayes."

She announced, her voice clear and confident.

Bryan sighed quietly, earning a curious glance from Sabrina.

The Inquisition hadn't bothered to tell him what Alessia looked like—only that he was to ensure she graduated. Now, with the ranking system revealed, his mission had become more complicated. He would need to help her maintain her current rank or at least keep her within the top fifty.

Bryan watched as Alessia received her academic card, noting how she barely acknowledged the man who handed it to her.

"At least she's competent enough to rank nineteenth."

Bryan thought.

"Though that might make her overconfident."