Thanks to Caramelle, Lyra was fifteen minutes early to her first class at the Royal Academy of Magical Baking. The two girls had rushed through breakfast at the first-year table in the dining commons before dashing to claim the prime work-stations in the Flavor classroom. After that, there was nothing left to do but stare out the window and wait.

By the time the other students began to arrive, Lyra was so deep in a daydream that Boysen had to snap his fingers in front of her face to get her attention.

“There you are,” he said cheerfully, leaning against her counter. “Missed you at breakfast.”

Lyra smiled. It was nearly impossible NOT to smile when Boysen was smiling. “Caramelle wanted an early start.”

Boysen nodded. “Aha. So, other than short, how was your second night in the hallowed halls of the academy?”

“Splendid. Surprisingly restful.”

“And what’s so surprising about a good night’s sleep?”

“I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep at all,” she confessed. “Big day today, you know.”

He nodded again, his eyes full of understanding. “But you managed it? No doubt thanks to Chef Flax’s excellent meal? I, for one, dreamed about that mushroom gravy all night.”

“Me too.” Lyra neglected to add that Cardamom Coulis the Third had also featured prominently in most of her dreams the night before. Somehow, that just didn’t seem like something to share with Boysen. Instead, she swiftly went on, “The dessert was a nice touch. I didn’t expect them to serve our entrance exam cakes.”

“They do that every year the night before classes start,” Boysen said. “But I agree. Real confidence boost. Even if my brothers did ruin the surprise for me.” A bustle sounded at the door, and Boysen groaned. “And speaking of the ruin of all good things…”

Razz Berry strolled into the classroom, followed shortly by Professor Honeycomb.

“Good morning!” the professor trilled cheerily. Her gray curls were tied up in a green scarf to match her green ‘Flavor Master’ apron. “Glad to see you are all getting off to a good punctual start. They’ll keep us on our toes, won’t they, Razz?”

Razz folded his arms, giving the six first-years a mischievous grin. “I’m sure they will, Professor.”

The other two professors and their apprentices all arrived moments later, and Lyra’s first day at the academy was officially underway.

“Flavor, Texture, and Presentation.” Professor Genoise’s rich voice filled the airy room, commanding attention without any need for strident force or obnoxious volume. “The three principles of baking. They are the foundation of this academy, and also its guiding lights.”

Professor Puff spoke even more quietly, but Lyra felt every crisp word vibrate in her bones. “We aim to help you discover which principle is your specialty, while shoring up any deficiencies you may have in the other two.”

“The first step in this journey of discovery is understanding where each principle lives in you,” Professor Honeycomb concluded cheerily. “This is where we start putting our new apprentices to work. Apprentice Baker Berry, could you tell me where in the body ‘Flavor’ lives?”

Razz didn’t hesitate. “The gut. It’s that feeling you get when you put two ingredients together. You can’t always explain why they do or don’t work together, but you just know.”

“Exactly.” Professor Honeycomb’s blue eyes twinkled merrily at him as she turned back to the first-years. “Flavor is a matter of instinct.”

“Texture, on the other hand, is a primarily intellectual discipline,” Professor Puff said. “Apprentice Baker Roulade, where does Texture live?”

“Texture lives in the mind,” Hyacinth replied, her voice calm and confident. “Science and math come into play as much as magic.”

Professor Puff nodded, and Professor Genoise took up the thread. “That leaves Presentation, of course. Apprentice Baker Coulis, tell us about your chosen discipline.”

“Certainly, Professor.” Cardamom gave Professor Genoise a small bow, then flashed a dazzling smile at the room in general. “Presentation lives in the heart. Each baker brings their own unique personality to every creation. If three bakers, all with equal aptitude, use the same Presentation spell, they will have three very different outcomes. Presentation is where your style can truly shine through.”

To Lyra’s astonishment, Cardamom looked right at her. His eyes were smiling. “This is where you make your mark.”

“Just be careful to keep those marks on the baked goods, not yourself,” Razz cut in dryly. “How many times last year did you accidentally dye your nose pink, Coulis?”

Cardamom didn’t even miss a beat. “Fewer times than we had to evacuate the dormitory thanks to your noxious Flavor experiments, Berry.”

Professor Genoise chuckled, and even Professor Puff smiled delicately.

“As you can see, we have a lot of fun here.” Professor Honeycomb’s grin was so wide that it reminded Lyra of Chef Flax. “But we also take our work very seriously.”

Professor Puff nodded. “The Royal Academy of Magical Baking has a historic commitment to excellence. All of you have won a place here by demonstrating your own commitment, as well as a determination to grow.”

“You worked to attain the seats you now occupy because you want to become better bakers,” Professor Genoise said, taking up the thread. “Not just better, but the best. Our pledge is to help you achieve that goal.”

“We pledge to help you become the best bakers you can possibly be.” Professor Puff raised her long silver Texture spoon, as if actually taking an oath. “We will do all in our power to cultivate your growth in the three principles of baking.”

Professor Genoise produced his own elaborately carved tools, pointing at each first-year in turn. “Today, and indeed this entire first week, is about laying a foundation for that growth. We will be starting at a very basic level, but I adjure you to give each task your utmost.”

“That’s right,” Professor Honeycomb said brightly. “My colleagues and I need to assess your current levels in the three disciplines so we may know how best to guide you beyond those levels. Any questions?”

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

The Flavor professor looked around, but Lyra and her classmates all remained silent.

“Then, my esteemed colleagues, I bid you farewell.” Professor Genoise bowed deeply to the other two professors, and then to the first-years. Cardamom followed his example. “We shall see you this afternoon.”

Professor Puff merely nodded at the group. “And I shall see you later this morning.”

As soon as the Texture and Presentation professors had left the room with their apprentices, Professor Honeycomb turned to the first-years with another broad grin. “Well then, Aspiring Bakers. After our little speech, all of you should be able to tell me, as one: where in the baker does Flavor live?”

Six voices responded, “Gut.”

“That’s right.” Professor Honeycomb beamed at them. “Gut is instinct. That’s the primary skill you must develop to master this baking principle. Which is tricky because instinct can’t exactly be taught. The best we can do is give you plenty of opportunities to practice. Right, Apprentice Baker Berry?”

Razz nodded. “Lots of repetition. That’s the only way to cut through all the other noise and consistently hear what your gut is saying. It’s true that you can’t learn instinct, but you can learn how to listen to what you already have.”

“Very well put, Berry. Thank you.” Professor Honeycomb turned back to the class, her kind face suddenly stern. “Lots of repetition. Learning to recognize the instinct you already possess, and act upon it. That is why we will not be using any magic in Flavor this first term.”

A collective gasp went up from the six first-year students. Caramelle’s hand shot into the air at the same time as Aniseed’s.

“Save your breath,” Razz chuckled. “She’s not going to change her mind. And you don’t want her to. Trust me. This method works.”

“No Flavor spells?” Aniseed’s voice rang out anyway from the back row. “You are refusing to teach us magic?”

“Magic can only get you so far in Flavor,” Professor Honeycomb stated. “In this baking principle, think of spells as decorative icing. They enhance the finished product, but cannot mask any underlying structural errors. You must have something to build upon first.”

“Trust me,” Razz repeated. “Or, rather, trust her. Professor Honeycomb knows what she’s doing.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence, Berry. Now, all gather ’round.” The professor waved a hand, inviting the group towards her work-station. “We’re starting up here today.”

She inspected them all as they made their way to the front of the room. Lyra straightened her light-brown tunic and smoothed the crisp white apron that marked her as a first-year student, wondering how long the outfit would stay in its pristine condition.

Not long, she thought ruefully. And we’re all responsible for our own laundry. I wonder if there’s a special class on getting out cooking stains?

“Grand,” Professor Honeycomb said again, nodding in approval. “All in your uniforms, I see. Hopefully we won’t do too much damage to them today.”

She winked at Lyra, as if she had read her anxious laundry-thoughts. Then she indicated six small bowls of identical brown powder arranged neatly on her work-station.

“To begin, I’ll need a volunteer. I have used a spell of my own invention to distill six distinct flavors into powdered form. Who can tell me what flavors we have here?”

“I can,” Aniseed’s voice rang out imperiously.

Without waiting for confirmation, she stepped forward. Lifting the first bowl, she sniffed delicately. Her face went blank. She dabbed her smallest finger into the powder and touched it to her tongue. She closed her eyes.

Several long seconds passed.

“Rum,” she announced finally, opening her eyes. “Infused with toasted brown sugar.”

Professor Honeycomb shook her head. “Wrong. You’re overthinking this. A good effort, though. Anyone else?”

Razz pointed at Boysen. “My brother can do it, Professor.”

“Very well.” Professor Honeycomb nodded at Boysen. “Aspiring Baker Berry?”

Boysen stuck his hands in his pockets, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot beside Lyra. “That’s all right, Professor. I’m sure someone else would like to try.”

“Come on, Poison.” Razz thumped the countertop. “Don’t be shy. Give the good people what they want.”

Professor Honeycomb shot Razz a warning glance, but she was smiling as she turned back to Boysen. “I do insist, Aspiring Baker Berry.”

Boysen took a deep breath, then smiled. “Sure thing, Professor.”

Keeping his hands in his pockets, he leaned down, taking a quick whiff of the bowl Aniseed had sampled.

“Vanilla,” he said instantly.

Professor Honeycomb beamed. “Correct!” Her blue eyes, surrounded by a network of laughter-wrinkles, swept over the other five students. “First lesson,” she announced. “The most popular flavors are popular for a reason. Don’t let the contempt of familiarity blind you to those flavors’ complexity and potential.”

She turned back to Boysen with a small bow. “Proceed, Aspiring Baker Berry.”

Boysen took one more whiff of vanilla. “It’s my favorite,” he said, winking at Lyra. Then he leaned over the next bowl and inhaled deeply. “Almond.”

Professor Honeycomb nodded. “Correct.”

He walked around the table, keeping his hands in his pockets. Barely tilting his head toward the third bowl, he quickly stepped back, wrinkling his nose. “Star anise. Whew, that’s strong.”

“It is an intense flavor,” Professor Honeycomb agreed.

The fourth bowl, also, seemed overpowering when Boysen announced the answer without even inclining his head towards it. “Ginger.” Boysen looked at Professor Honeycomb, his eyes twinkling. “I think I’m onto you, Professor.”

“Is that so?” Professor Honeycomb’s eyes widened innocently. “Well, why don’t you finish the course properly, just in case you’re wrong.”

Grinning broadly, Boysen rounded the table to examine the final two bowls. He inhaled deeply from both.

“Caramel,” he said, removing his hands from his pockets to point at the fifth bowl. “And the last, of course, is yours truly: the humble boysenberry.” He bowed, then began clapping vigorously. “Brava, Professor! You’ve captured the flavors of us!”

“What?” Lyra asked, startled out of her nervous first-day-of-school silence. “The flavors of ‘us?’”

Boysen pointed at each bowl, then to the corresponding classmate. “Boysenberry for me. Caramel for Miss Meringue. Ginger for our own Ginger Crumble, almond for Macaron. Star anise for Aniseed. And the vanilla is for you, Lyra Treble.”

“Since you used vanilla in such exemplary fashion yesterday, my dear,” Professor Honeycomb explained. “I’ve been starting the first term with this little exercise for years now. It’s usually easy, what with the silly baking names in abundance these days. I thought choosing a flavor for you would be difficult, but then I remembered that cake of yours…” Professor Honeycomb lifted her eyes in a silent moment of exultant memory before continuing on, “Recognizing flavors is a vital skill for any baker. I shall be working to develop all your palates this year. And speaking of developed palates, let’s all give a round of applause to Aspiring Baker Berry for that impressive demonstration.”

Five students, Razz included, clapped dutifully. Aniseed folded her arms.

“But recognizing flavors is only the first step,” Professor Honeycomb went on. “The next is much trickier: combining flavors. That is the task for the rest of today’s lesson.”

She nodded to Razz, who opened a cupboard and began pulling out small trays, each laden with six bowls full of identical powder.

“I have a set of first-year flavors for each of you. These bowls are clearly labeled, to avoid confusion.” She smiled at Aniseed, who scowled in return. “Over the next hour, I expect you to make me a batch of cookies containing all six flavors.”

“All six?” Ginger squeaked. “Together?”

Professor Honeycomb continued as if she hadn’t heard. “You’ll find the ingredients for basic shortbread at your work-stations. Your proofing drawers have all been enchanted to chill your dough in thirty seconds. Apprentice Baker Berry is distributing the flavor trays. I encourage you to start by just mixing the powders in different ratios, before jumping straight to the shortbread dough. You’ll move faster, and you’ll also get to practice listening to your gut instead of relying on taste. Experiment. Keep an open mind.”

She smiled winningly at the six students. Lyra didn’t know about minds, but everyone’s mouth was certainly hanging open.

“In one hour, we’ll all try everyone’s cookies, and we’ll learn how these unlikely friends can work together.”

“If,” Ginger said under her breath. “If they can.”

Caramelle’s lips were pursed so tightly together, her mouth had almost disappeared. Mac was sweating. Aniseed was practically vibrating with discontent. Only Boysen seemed unconcerned.

Professor Honeycomb winked at them. “Apprentice Baker Berry and I will be circling to watch your progress, but don’t ask us for any help. You are, of course, free to consult with each other. One hour on the clock, and — go!”