I liked to believe I had moved past the starry-eyed commoner of just a month ago, but as I walked, my eyes wandered almost on their own. Every noble had their own mansions, some relatively simple and behind short iron fences, while others sat hundreds of feet away, with towering walls and well-kept lawns full of exotic plants. One even had strangely colored animals milling about, roosting in trees and munching on flowers without a care in the world.

It seemed the strange contradiction in my eyes. Each of these feats must require masterful skills and magic, and at the same time, seemed a near-complete waste of gold and effort. All that energy spent appearing impressive could be used actually becoming impressive. Then again, displays like this did have a purpose, though not one useful in battle for the most part.

As I passed a home with what appeared to be gold-plated gates, I had to remind myself about my opinion on envy. It was a useless emotional burden, but that did not help me push it aside. Founders, my path forward would go so much smoother if I had even a tenth of the wealth on display.

I was headed for the Wales family estate, led by Marquis Wales, a longtime ally and friend to Duke Estton. His oldest child, a son, if memory served correctly, was starting at the Academy this year as well and had invited several other first-years over to mingle. It was precisely the sort of event I would avoid if at all possible, but that choice was made for me, though why I had no idea.

Like the others, the Wales home was opulent but at least attempted to appear tasteful. Their stone walls were simple, standing ten feet tall with a dark bronze gate, covered in tiny runes along the surface. By now, I had learned the basics of enchanting and knew these markings guided the effects, producing any number of traits. In this case, the sigils represented strength, which suggested their improved durability.

Outside the gates, six armored guards stood, covered from head to toe in interlocking steel plates. Their right hands clutched powerful halberds longer than my body, with swords buckled onto each hip. I briefly smiled, remembering Sig's admonishment of the weapon, and had to admit that polearms did appear more impressive.

One of the six turned to face me, adjusting their stance as they said, "Halt. State your business." in a booming tone.

Truthfully, Wales' guards cut a more imposing figure than Duke Estton's, though that might be partially deliberate. The capital was a damned hive of nobles looking to make friends and undercut rivals, and you might find yourself switching between either in the same day. If you looked powerful and dangerous, others might think twice before crossing you.

"Dinner with the Wales family, under the protection of Duke Estton," I said, gesturing to the front of my shirt at the family crest.

I had been forced to wear my Academy uniform for lack of a better option. My only other clothes were the formal attire from the day I moved in, and funny enough, that no longer fit. My wrists and ankles peeked out a hair too far, and it now felt uncomfortably tight in several places, most notably the chest and thighs.

"Vayne, yes? We were told to expect you," he commented before raising his halberd, tapping it twice against the stones underfoot. A brief flash and a shimmer of gray-white mana traveled through the ground and into the gate. A second later, they silently swung open, revealing a paved pathway up to the mansion.

"Follow me, sir," the guard said before starting to walk, another following behind me and boxing me in. Close family friends or not, it seemed Marquis Wales was about as paranoid as, well, me.

As I stared at the guard's back, I wondered how a Mana Bolt would fare against full plate armor. It had turned a deer's skull into a gory mess, but would forged steel withstand the impact? Fighting against armored warriors was not something I planned to do, but better to be safe than sorry.

The main building itself looked much the same as the gates, a mixture of stone and metal. The walls looked heavy, the windows small and the roof steep, with an iron double door. My guide walked right up to it, tapping his spear twice against the ground, and turned towards me as the doors opened.

"Have a good evening, sir," he said before he and the other guard walked away. It felt strange being referred to as 'sir' after a lifetime of bowing to others, though I suppose I would be doing plenty of that tonight.

Inside, Girem waited with another man of comparable age. The stranger wore his gray hair short, with a trimmed beard and friendly expression as he spoke to my mentor. Both turned to me as I walked closer, and I bowed low before straightening, arms behind my back and face neutral.

"You are earlier than expected," Girem noted, sweeping his eyes over my attire and continuing, "And it seems you did not dress appropriately. Why did you not wear your formal clothing from before?"

"Forgiveness, my lord, but I have put on some weight and grown over the last month. The Academy uniforms are self-adjusting, and I had not considered that my other clothes might not fit properly anymore."

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It seemed the best answer available, but Girem's frown told me he was less than happy with me.

"It should have. You cannot forget these things, Vayne or problems will arise. Appearances matter, particularly for us." he said with an icy tone, eyebrows lowering as he stared at me.

"Yes, sir," I answered, bowing my head again and hiding the tiniest flicker of annoyance that threatened to cross my features. I half-wanted to tell him everything and explain just how far down my list of priorities properly fitted clothes fell.

"Oh, quit torturing the boy, Girem. Who among us hasn't forgotten something every now and then?" the other man said, shooting me a warm smile.

Girem looked as if he swallowed something bitter even considering that, but he nodded and turned to me, saying, "Vayne, this is Harl, chief advisor to Marquis Wales."

"A pleasure, my lord," I said, bowing my head to the older man before straightening.

He smiled again, inclining his head and replying, "Likewise. Your teacher here likes to play up the stern taskmaster, but he has certainly talked you up to me. If I did not know better, I might suspect he actually likes you."

The edge of Girem's mouth briefly twitched upward, and he sighed, responding, "Vayne is a dutiful servant and has progressed well in his training. I have no reason to express discontent with his performance."

Maybe Harl had a point. That was practically glowing praise by his standards, and my stomach clenched as I considered my earlier annoyance. The Esttons were good people and kind lords, even when not compared to other nobles.

Even so, I could not help it. It was impossible not to feel a hint of resentment at just how little control I had over my life. Sure, it was only thanks to them that I had the opportunities in front of me, but even so. Was it wrong to feel like this? I could not answer that and was not sure if there even was an answer.

Harl rolled his eyes, saying, "Believe it or not, old age has softened him up. But I suppose technically, iron is softer than steel. Regardless, I'm sure Vayne does not want to hear two old men bicker. Please, follow me, and I will take you to your young lords."

As we walked, Girem turned to me and asked, "Your training is going well, I assume?"

"Yes, sir. I have acclimated to my studies and am ready for the start of classes. When the two young lords move in, I am confident I can assist them as needed."

"Very good. I expect nothing but top marks in all your classes, Vayne. I cannot tolerate anything less from you."

"Yes, sir."

There was nothing else to say, and I fell silent, half-listening as Harl and Girem discussed the latest rumors in Volaris. The prices of certain goods, movements of dangerous beasts out east, and the latest stories from our southern neighbors included. Nothing sounded helpful for my needs, but I kept an ear out just in case.

Unfortunately, it was nothing but idle gossip for the most part, and I hid my annoyance. This night was already turning out to be a waste of hours that could have been spent improving my skills.

Harl led us into a small parlor, with several servants and five well-dressed nobles inside, already deep in conversation. Small for nobility, which meant large enough to comfortably fit twenty people, with a roaring fire, and priceless artwork covering the walls. For a moment, I debated the viability of stealing and selling one of them. I disliked thieves, but Founders above, that would solve my gold concerns.

The young lords turned towards me, and one of them practically ran up to us, a giant smile on his face as he held out both arms.

"Vayne! So glad you could make it!"

Leon Estton, the older sibling and heir apparent to his family title, was like the sun in human form. His bright golden hair was cut short, his features symmetrical and classically handsome, and his build athletic. The look twinkling in his green eyes spoke of casual charisma and easy confidence.

When he got within reach, Leon grabbed my hand, pumping it as he placed the other on my shoulder, saying, "You didn't have any issues getting here, did you?"

"Not at all, my lord, thank you. Have you been well?" I replied, giving him a smile as I carefully extracted my hand. Servant or not, I was not fond of unwanted physical contact at the best of times, and the looks from the other nobles only exacerbated that.

"Very well, actually. I'm a mage now, after all. Well, an apprentice, I suppose. Now come on, and let me introduce you to our gracious host." he replied, sweeping an arm towards the others. Funny enough, though he had entirely too much energy for me, I would rather stand here next to Leon all night than interact with the others. He appeared by far the friendliest of the lot.

Of the other four, I only recognized Sophia Estton, the younger twin. Like her brother, she had blonde hair, though hers was a lighter whitish shade with similarly pale blue eyes. We had interacted only a few times over the years, and those had colored my impression of her as brilliant and capable but entirely uninterested in being anything approaching friends.

Wales' son was the closest, a large young man with pale skin and deep auburn hair, who met my gaze with a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. Not much farther, a young woman stood with Sophia, speaking quietly with her. And finally, a tall, lanky man was walking back over with a platter of snacks, confiscated from one of the servants. Judging by the look on his face, he was more interested in the food than the conversation.

"You must be Vayne. Theo Wales. A pleasure, I'm sure," the young Wales lordling said, grabbing my hand and squeezing tight. I almost laughed, recalling the bone-crushing grip Sig used and unconsciously comparing the two.

I was starting to suspect my invitation here was by Leon's request and that if it was up to this young lord, I would never set foot in his home.

"The pleasure is mine, my lord. Your home is incredible. Thank you for-"

"Glad you could attend," he said, cutting me off with casual disinterest before turning to his friends.

Again, I had to wonder why I was here, though knowing Leon's reputation, it could very well be out of misplaced kindness. The young lord often forgot that not everyone enjoyed socializing as much as him.

I looked around the room, trying to decide if I could sneak out of one of the windows unnoticed. It would backfire spectacularly, of course, but something told me that might be preferable to a night with these people.

As Theo shouted at a servant to bring another tray of snacks and wine, that suspicion solidified into certainty. This was going to be the longest night of my life.