Walking into the auditorium, Q was greeted by the stares of a sea of unknown faces. Stopping just past the threshold, his heart skipped a beat as the heavy doors slammed shut behind him. He ignored the hair on his arms standing on end and forced himself to take another step forward. Intending to merge with the crowd, two faces he did recognize oozed from the mass of students to bar his way. Just seeing the two together would have been enough to form a pit in Q’s gut, but their matching sneers managed to give the thing, sharp edges, that tore at his insides.

“What are you doing here, traitor’s son?” Viscount Reginald Hargrove asked, projecting his voice in an attempt to catch the attention of those around them, accomplishing his goal when several gasps rang out from among the crowd. The words traitor’s son, stealing the attention of everyone who heard them. Whispers, coming like echoes as they repeated over and over. The students attempted to puzzle out who’s son he might be, as if they could do so based on appearance alone.

Q leveled a glare at the two, and when he spoke, he enunciated clearly. Giving each word time to land with great effect. “I see you learned nothing from our last meeting, Reggie. Who’d you have fix the nose? They did a stellar job.”

Mage Taylor Hastings stepped forward, showing his support of the other boy and asked, “What, traitor’s son? You don’t like the truth?” With an exaggerated motion, he peered around Q as if looking for something, or someone. “Where is your friend? Has my brother whisked him away in his perversion already?”

Raising a brow, Q couldn’t stop the smirk, tugging up the corner of his mouth. “That is the second time you’ve commented on my proclivities. Are you asking for yourself? If so, I must inform you, I’m not interested in men. I wish you luck in finding a partner though.”

Taylor spluttered in outrage. Literal spit flying through the air, forcing several of the spectators avidly watching the drama unfold, back several paces in search of safety.

Taking advantage of the mage’s inability to form words, Q stalked forward, staring down at the smaller man. “If not, I would suggest you keep your concerns to yourself, or I will be more than happy to give you the same instruction I gave your friend there.” Indicating a startled Reginald with a nod.

Such an open invitation to violence made the pair hesitate, one from experience, the other in disbelief.

“You—you can’t just threaten a Duke’s son like that,” Taylor argued in a voice that cracked half-way through.

A wintry smile spread across Q’s face as he asked, “Duke’s son…? Aren’t you just Mage Hastings here at the Academy? Weren’t those your words to your brother only a few days ago?”

Before either boy could respond, the rear doors were unceremoniously thrown open and out walked their instructor, this one unfamiliar to Q.

Gritting his teeth in frustration at the ill timing. He’d been winning their verbal duel, but the damage was already done. He could hear the words traitor and son continue to spread around the room even without boosting his hearing.

The instructor paused, ensuring they had everyone’s attention, and a moment later, Q felt the air start to stir. The elemental manipulation bringing the instructor’s voice to each of the students as if she were right beside them.

“Good afternoon, students. I hope you have enjoyed your first morning at the academy. My name is Instructor Pascal and I will be teaching you the practical application of Elemental magic. We will be starting with water, as it is the least destructive element at your current stages. Before we head to the water chamber, does anyone have any questions?”

Reginald raised a hand and pointed at Q with the other, calling. “Can he even cast magic? His father wasn’t even a mage.” Further fueling the intrigue burning its way through the gathered students.

Clenching his fists in anger. Q fought back the impulse to send one of the steel balls in his pocket at the back of the loudmouth’s head.

Keeping her gaze firmly locked on the boy and not where he pointed, she replied, “He wouldn’t be here if he couldn’t.”

When she received no new questions of substance. Pascal took a deliberate step forward and the students instinctively cleared a path. They trailed behind like a flock of ducklings as she led them from the room.

Q was the last one out. The curious glances he’d received all week, giving way to upturned noses and partial sneers, the unknown faces, formed a macabre river as it flowed by.

Good riddance, Q thought when the last student passed, clearing his dry and scratchy throat.

The water chamber was an interesting room. Similar to Q’s own magic chamber back in County Wycliffe. The walls and floor were made from white stone, with a trench full of water flowing around the perimeter of the room. The students had to cross over a small bridge to get to the center of the chamber. A large, shallow fountain filled the man-made island, its walls raised a foot above the stone floor. The pool likely held only a few inches of water, but was the size of a standard dueling circle and provided more than enough space for two combatants to face off.

Instructor Pascal removed her shoes, the water reaching the tops of her ankles as she slid her feet into the glass-like surface of the still pool. Air circulated throughout the chamber, once more carrying Pascal’s words to the assembled students. “Each of the elemental chambers was designed to aid in the creation, control, and defense against its designated element. The water chamber includes strategic drains to manage overflows, whereas the fire chamber has been stripped of anything flammable. These rooms are to help you with the basics. Do not become dependent on them to the point they become a crutch. It does not matter how well you control the water in this pool, if you cannot summon it on a dry, sweltering day when you need it in the field.”

Q found that he agreed with Instructor Pascal’s assessment, her advice, mirroring lessons from his grandparents. Her straightforward, no-nonsense approach to instruction reminded him of training with a veteran master-at-arms. A similarity he couldn’t help but appreciate.

“Is there anyone here with an affinity for water that would like to give a demonstration?” Their instructor asked, addressing the group.

After already causing a scene this afternoon? Q thought, No thank you. He had no interest in volunteering, even without Burns’ advice.

For a moment, no one came forward. Then the crowd jostled as people were pushed aside and a short, red-headed girl stepped out. Pascal gave her a small smile, the first expression Q had seen on the woman’s face other than stern professionalism since she’d walked in to the auditorium. Beckoning the young lady to join her in the fountain, the instructor leapt out a moment later, clearing the way for the mage and her demonstration.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

The redhead cast a nervous glance over the group, before taking a long, slow, deep breath. Raising her arms, she began to sing. Her voice, a haunting melody, calling out to the water behind her, rose up like a wave in response. When she started to dance, so too did the wave. Humanoid shapes emerging one by one, arranging themselves in the background as if members of a dance troupe.

Q stood mesmerized, having only faint memories of holding his mother’s hand, as they followed his father through town. Heading to watch a show by troubadours traveling through their lands when he was six or seven years old.

Throwing her arms forward, the cadre of dancers charge ahead, momentarily obscuring the mage’s movements from view. She reemerged in their center, her hands tracing gentle arcs through the air. Each twitch of her fingers commanding the flowing movements of her translucent partners, as they wove a bewitching pattern while remaining perfectly in time with her song.

The young woman’s performance ended far too quickly, with her voice rising in a crescendo. Reaching its peak, she cut the sound off with a flare of her arms. The water-dancers ceased their animation on the same beat, falling back into the pool as simple water once more.

Total silence engulfed the chamber until someone began to clap. It was quickly taken up by others, Q included.

Instructor Pascal stepped back into the pool, and gave the girl a brilliant smile, tinged with a touch of knowing. “That was a surprise, Mage—?”

“Mage Arita Beaumont, Instructor Pascal.” Arita panted. Offering a bow of her own as she hopped down to the stone floor.

A scoff from behind drew Q’s attention. “And every boy here is going to remember it, well done…” the female voice mumbled. He looked around, but couldn’t identify the speaker. He realized with a start that the mage, Arita, could very well have volunteered and put on the show for the sole purpose of being remembered.

Maybe the students here aren’t so simple after all, Q admitted to himself,

Interrupting Q’s thoughts, Instructor Pascal addressed the group, “That was a fantastic demonstration of water manipulation, which, at its simplest, is exactly what our Elemental gifts allow us to do. Now, spread out around the pool, I want each of you to…”

The rest of the class was spent going over basic forms of water manipulation. Giving the instructor an opportunity to get a feel for their current skill levels.

Q did as requested, but refrained from showing anything more than the basics that their instructor asked for, nor did he experiment like he normally would when working with his grandmother. This freed up his concentration and allowed him to watch his classmates instead. Some of them, maybe in an attempt to make their own impressions, pushed far past the simple orb of water they were supposed to be controlling. He saw several students with altered forms in intricate shapes, from a cat to a horse, and in one case, even a mythical dragon.

When the bell rang, Q was disappointed that the trend of his classes at the academy starting at the earliest stages of training, stages he’d mastered years ago, left him unsatisfied. He’d expected more from his fellow mages than what he was seeing. Other than mage Beaumont, whom truly did seem to have an affinity for water, everyone else seemed to be at a fairly novice level of skill. Roughly the same as his Mental gift had been when Elara had first started training him nearly two years earlier.

If this is what the kingdom had to offer as future Core mages, they had a long way to go if even half of the things Q’s grandfather mentioned in his letters regarding the war with the Drakovians were accurate.

*****

Q’s second class of the afternoon, Transmutation, was by far the most outwardly complex Gift. It required a strong understanding of both the source and the result materials to have any level of success. Otherwise, you ran the risk of destabilizing the entire structure, turning the whole working into a pile of dust.

He was glad when he saw Cedric walk through the door. They were both excited to see in what ways others had found to use this particular Gift, given that Q’s grandmother had already claimed she’d taught him all she knew on the subject.

This class had them meeting in one of the smaller lecture chambers within the main hall. This class appeared to be half the size of his last. While Q’s elemental class held 16 students, there were only eight in attendance, including the two of them.

Sitting down beside him, Cedric asked, “How was Elemental?” Continuing to talk without waiting for Q to reply, he said, “Mental was sort of awkward for me. The instructor recognized my last name, and when she found out who my mother was, demanded a demonstration. I just sort of stood there like a show pony, random shit spinning around me, just feeling stupid.” He finished, dramatically setting his forehead down on the stone desktop with a groan.

Q winced, understanding the sting of being reminded, yet again, that his friend’s magic took after his father’s more than his mother’s. Letting out a sigh of his own, Q shared, “Fine, except for Ronan’s brother, and our friend Reginald are both in it with me. I’m pretty sure everyone will know who my father was by the end of the day.”

The doors opened and a black robed instructor strolled through, grabbing their attentions. To Q’s surprise, it was Burns’ male counterpart. He looked around at the assembled students, an odd glint in his eyes that came off, almost, predatory. Spending far longer than Q thought was appropriate on the ladies of their class, it was then that he realized he and Cedric were the only male students present.

The instructor skimmed over the pair with a sniff, addressing the room. “I am Instructor Highbridge. Yes, the Archmage’s son, and I will be teaching you the intricacies of Transmutation.

His introduction caused a murmuring to break out among the students, one that he patiently waited to end, smiling all the while.

With a mental snort, Q thought, Stars above, this guy is full of himself.

The room, quiet once more, Instructor Highbridge asked, “To begin, may I get a volunteer? Does anyone feel like they have a good grasp of the basics?”

Cedric began to raise his hand, but Q held it in place telekinetically with a grip on his friend’s sleeve. Giving his friend a minute shake of his head, he motioned for Cedric to wait. He wanted to see what was considered basic in Transmutation before putting their talents on display.

A girl with mousy brown hair raised her hand, blushing as she smiled at their instructor. “I believe that I know the basics fairly well.”

With a wink, Instructor Highbridge pulled a stone from his pocket. Taking her hand in his own, he turned it over and placed the stone in her palm, his fingers sliding over hers to close them around it.

“Now, mage—?” He asked, looking deeply into her eyes.

“Mage Bellevue, Instructor Highbridge,” the girl said breathily.

”Isaac, will do. Thank you, Mage Bellevue.”

Leaning in close, Cedric mumbled, “Is this making you uncomfortable? Because, it’s making me very uncomfortable.”

“I think this man might be one of them.” Q whispered back. Referring to the group of gifted males that took the King’s Edicts as permission to have sex with as many women as they could. Claiming they were doing their part for the kingdom by trying to get each woman pregnant in the attempt.

It was a view held favorably only by a select few, and surprising to see from someone so closely related to the Archmage.

Mage Bellevue cupped the stone between her closed palms and focused. A quiet chant could be heard coming from the mage as she channeled her Gift. A soft green light emitted from her hands and, a moment later, when she opened them, she let loose a brilliant smile and held out the yellow-brown crystal for all to see.

Instructor Highbridge clapped his hands, returning her smile with one of his own. “That was a perfect example of Transmutation. Taking an object and transforming it into something entirely different. We will explore the different states, solids, liquids, and gases, over the next several months. Together, I will help you understand the intricacies of each, and if you are willing to put in the effort of long nights and hours of practice, I may even be able to teach you something special…” He said, pausing for dramatic effect, looking into each of his young female students faces. Highbridge held out his forearm and pulled back his sleeve. They watched it shift before their eyes, growing spotted fur, before shifting back to his normal human skin.

His demonstration of the combination of Physical and Transmutation earned a gasp from the watching ladies, and a snort from Cedric.

“Is there a problem?” asked Instructor Highbridge, staring daggers at the young man.

Clearing his throat, Cedric answered, “No instructor, my apologies, just something caught in my throat.”

The man glared for a moment longer before returning his attention to the other students as they began asking questions.

“Narcissism,” Q murmured just loud enough for his friend to hear. “You choked on narcissism.”