Three piles. That’s all Duncan’s 17 years of life on Earth came down to in the end. Three piles of stuff, each growing as he cleaned out his dorm room at the Academy. As he sorted through his belongings, nostalgia and anticipation filled his heart. While he would have liked to bring some things with him to Dintarnum, it was against the rules. Less mass meant less mana spent on the Realm Shift.
The largest of the three piles was full of his less unique possessions: Clothes, family pictures, a couple of older mana-augmented tablets, and more. That pile would go to his parents. While Duncan would have been fine throwing most of it out, he knew they would want to hold onto it. After all, what if he wanted it when he came back to Earth?
The second largest pile contained his school books, notes, and other items he thought would be helpful for a younger student in the combat division at the Academy. This pile was for Marie, his 14-year-old little sister. He imagined her studying his notes, trying to understand the strategies he had learned and created, and it brought a smile to his face.
While Marie was more than capable of getting through her three remaining years in the Academy herself, Duncan knew she would appreciate his unique perspective on some of the topics covered in his notes. He also knew she would love having his old swords even though she had no use for them as a combat mage.
The last and smallest pile was for his younger brother, Wayne. At 11 years old and about to begin his first year at the Academy, Wayne clearly took after his mother and would soon be the genius of the Academy’s enchanting division. While Duncan knew nothing about enchanting, he did have various magical items the young boy would find interesting to play with and study. It was odd what one could win dueling against noble students at the Academy.
The bedroom door slammed open just as he finished distributing his final possessions into their respective piles.
“Dunc? Man, are you seriously cleaning right now? What are the monitors gonna do, give you patrol duty for a disorderly bunk? We won’t even be in the same realm as them when they come around next.”
Duncan, scowling at the horrible nickname Mikael had given him in their first year at the Academy, turned to address the boy standing in his doorway.
“Mikael, not everyone’s family sees them as a giant disappointment to their bloodline. I actually have things to give my family before I leave.”
Mikael Morozov glared up at his best friend. “It’s not my fault my family stopped talking to me after I started hanging out with a dirty commoner. If anything, you should be grateful I like you more than I like being a noble. Otherwise, no one in this place would hang out with you.”
“Sometimes I would rather have no one to hang out with than have only you. What did you drink last night? I can smell your breath all the way up here.” At six foot three, Duncan towered over the young noble, who could barely say he was five and a half feet tall without failing a lie detector spell.
“Just because you have no other friends doesn’t mean I have to follow suit. The alchemy division likes me, after all. They throw the best parties.”
“No, they are just the only ones who can brew their own beer. No wonder I didn’t see you after the finals yesterday. I thought you were just embarrassed you lost to Sofia.”
“Hey!” Mikael raised a finger, faux indignation covering his face. “How was I supposed to know she went back to using mana flail after not using it the entire tournament? My ice walls felt like paper when she started spinning that thing around like a magic helicopter blade.”
“Maybe if you had put more effort into your physical training, you could have avoided it. You have always over-relied on your spells for mobility. How many times do I need to put your face in the dirt while ice dash is on cooldown for you to start joining me in extra physical training?”
“We’ve been over this. I was literally the top mage in our class in the evasiveness drills. Not all of us have your freakishly athletic body. Leave me alone! All you do is train; it’s why the alchemy division likes me more than you.”
“The only reason the alchemy division ‘likes’ you is because you’re willing to try their new brews, no questions asked. You’re their lab rat.”
“Well… this lab rat needs his breakfast. Today may be the last time I get to eat French toast, and I will not let you ruin that for me. Let’s go!”
Sighing, Duncan grabbed his coat from the hook beside the front door, leaving it unbuttoned for easy access to the sword sheathed at his left side, and followed Mikael out of their suite in the direction of the upper years’ mess hall. A stranger observing them would likely find nothing unusual about their walk down the halls other than the severe difference in their appearances. One was tall and athletic, with short-cut dark hair and green eyes. The other was abnormally short for his age and wore his long, nearly white hair pulled back into a ponytail, framing his bright blue eyes.
Those with combat training would ignore their differences in appearance and instead note their alertness and positioning. With Mikael walking slightly behind and to the side of Duncan, the smaller boy was ready to slide in behind and use his best friend as an unyielding wall to cast spells from cover. The pair had found the formation necessary more than once while walking the Academy’s halls.
Soon, they were leaving their dorm and quickly crossing the courtyard to escape the frigid weather.
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“I can’t wait to get my Subject,” Mikael complained through chattering teeth. Once I have it, I could probably wear nothing but my boxers out here and feel like I’m at the beach.” Like much of his noble house, Mikael had a natural talent for ice magic, but he didn’t currently have any of the cold resistance he would likely gain once he got his Subject.
“Just a year or two more of training in the Corvelin military in Dintarnum, and we’ll finally have them.” Duncan was even more eager than Mikael to unlock his Subject. That, however, wasn’t the only reason he had worked so hard to earn a spot in the Realm Shift.
As they approached one of the mess halls throughout the Academy, they noticed a crowd surrounding one of the numerous announcement bulletins throughout campus. Even though the Academy had already sent out the final shift selection list earlier that morning, Duncan couldn’t help but take a quick look at the lists posted on the screen.
His name- Duncan Tell- was at the top of the combat division list. A quick scan confirmed what he already suspected: Only seven of the 100 students selected from the combat division were commoners. The remaining 93 came from one of the four founding families, one of their branch families, or one of the minor noble houses.
"Guess we ran away with it again this year," Mikael teased, guessing what Duncan was looking for on the list. "Your lot just can't keep up with our superior genes." The overly haughty smirk plastered on his face was unnecessary for Duncan to know his friend was playing it up for the crowd. The sad thing was that more than one noble turned with approving looks already on their faces, only to blanch in fear at seeing Duncan looming over them.
Duncan turned away from the list and quickly left Mikael behind as he picked up his pace again. This time, it was the list he was trying to escape, more than the cold weather.
"Come on, Dunc. You knew that would happen." Mikael's tone was resigned as he caught up with Duncan. "It happens every year. You would think the realm shift platform would break into a thousand pieces if half the names on the combat list don't end in Morozov, Romero, Belanger, or Mayfie..."
"I know, Mikael. I know." Duncan cut off his friend before he finished that name. "And I know most people on that list deserve to be there. It's just hard not to think about the numbers sometimes. Especially when so many commoner students look at me like I'm supposed to do something about it."
"Well, at least the other divisions were more even than usual this year. I think the enchanting division was even more skewed toward commoners thanks to the extra lessons your mom made available to all students."
Duncan knew Mikael was right. Of the seven divisions, only the combat division was so skewed toward noble houses. Because it offered more prestige, many nobles saw it as the only division to join.
The enchanting, smithing, alchemy, engineering, beast-taming, and healing divisions still had their fair share of noble students; it was just much more even at the top of the ranks than combat was.
Pushing the list out of his mind, Duncan opened the heavy door leading from the courtyard into the mess hall and stopped dead, leaving just enough space for Mikael to squeeze inside behind him.
Duncan's steel grip on his emotions rarely loosened no matter what was thrown his way. One of the only exceptions to that rule in recent memory, however, was when he saw a specific girl. That girl now stood before Duncan with her usual entourage in tow, having stopped upon seeing him and Mikael enter the mess hall.
Amelia was always surrounded by other noble girls and boys. It wasn’t only her beautiful features and noble house that attracted so much attention, but her strength as well. She was one of the top fighters in her shift year, making her a star for others to orbit around.
Being only one year apart in the Academy meant that Amelia and Duncan had spent time training and competing with one another whenever their years did joint training. Like him, she was ruthless, cunning, disciplined, and extremely competitive. Like Mikael, she didn’t lord her noble status over commoner classmates. Duncan could likely have been friends with Amelia if not for one small issue.
“Ms. Mayfield. What can I do for you?” Duncan’s voice was neutral, showing no outward change in his emotions as he indifferently met Amelia’s gaze. Inside, he was anything but indifferent.
Mayfield. That name. That man’s name.
Duncan used to wonder why his birth mother, Rhona Tell, had trained him so brutally for most of his life leading up to his first year at the Academy at 11 years old. He never knew, that is, until his uncle Matthew told him a story.
Now, like every time since he heard that story, that name sent Duncan’s mind back. He was once again nothing but a naked blade ready to strike down anything in its way. He trained endlessly through pain and exhaustion to live up to Rhona Tell’s expectations. All he was alive to do was improve and destroy. Nothing else existed; nothing else mattered. All he could count on was his sword and the lessons that had been beaten into over years of pain.
His aunt and uncle spent the year between Rhona’s disappearance and Duncan’s enrollment in the Academy, guiding him back toward something resembling a human being. Despite all their help and the many years since then, it only took that one name for him to nearly lose his hard-won control.
Mayfield. That name. His father’s name.
Seeing Amelia brought the memories back to the surface, accompanied by anger and fear. Duncan forced himself to discreetly reach his left hand down to his sword’s hilt. His fingers felt the well-used leather, and he let that familiar feeling bring his mind back into focus. He wasn’t a sword to be wielded by his emotions. He was the swordsman, wielding his emotions with absolute control.
“Duncan. I just wanted to congratulate you on your victory yesterday.” Amelia Mayfield, Duncan’s first cousin, responded. “Also, how many times do I have to insist you call me Amelia?”
With his regained control and Amelia’s respectful manner, Duncan felt a slight desire to confide in her. Stomping on that desire, he simply stood there. It's not like he could just come out and say, ‘Hello! I’m your cousin. My birth father is your mom’s brother. I’m pretty sure my now missing mother put me through hell day after day for years so she could use me to destroy my father’s life.’ Duncan thought that would likely end up with him out of the Realm Shift and probably worse, considering a Mayfield was the headmaster of the Academy.
With a dissatisfied look, Amelia sighed. “Well, make sure not to slack in Dintarnum. I expect a match when we both have our Subjects.” Without waiting for a response, she walked past Duncan and Mikael, the rest of her group following her through the door.
With a worried look, Mikael moved forward to stand beside Duncan. Although Duncan hadn’t told Mikael anything about his true parentage or the hardships he endured at the hands of his mother, it was clear that Mikael knew something was up between Duncan and Amelia.
“Come on. Let’s get you your French toast.” Duncan ignored Mikael’s curious looks and walked to the end of the breakfast line.
They ended up eating in companionable silence. Mikael knew he could do nothing for Duncan when he was in that kind of mood, so he simply resigned himself to enjoying his favorite breakfast food on Earth while the bigger boy finished brooding.