“Alright, that is everything,” Keira said, forcing herself to remain energetic. “It is still early, but it is a tradition at the Academy to give the children the rest of the first day to get to know one another. Tomorrow morning, you will start on the second day of the schedule, with practical arcana training. I will see you again tomorrow afternoon. Until then, I hope you all will get along well, and behave yourselves. I bid you all a good afternoon.” She rushed her greeting a little, hastily leaving the room so the children would not see her professional visage collapsing.

The class fell into silence. No one knew what to say or how to react to one another. Vincent and Astra were the first to move, standing in almost perfect synchronisation with each other, packing up their things, and heading for the door. The rest followed suit, each more eager than the last to escape the oppressively awkward atmosphere that their instructor had left behind.

“You three really threw her for a loop,” Mary said, sidling up to Seraphina.

“We did not intend to,” Seraphina responded, her eyes locked on her desk.

“It was bound to happen,” Mary said, smirking. “Those two are bad enough, but you…” she trailed off for a moment, letting the implication hang in the air, then she extended her hand. “You missed introductions. My name is Mary Pernelle.”

“I am Seraphina, though I suppose everyone already knows that,” Seraphina responded, refusing to meet Mary’s gaze, but giving her a limp handshake.

“Can I call you Sera?” Mary asked. “Seraphina is a bit of a mouthful.” The question finally drew Seraphina’s focus from the swirling wood grain on the desk. Her eyes twinkled faintly with a distant sense of hope.

“Yes, I do not mind,” she said hesitantly. She looked to her other side for Aldric, but he was gone, having already shuffled out with everyone else.

“Would you like to have lunch with me?” Mary asked, standing. “There is a nice cafe close by.”

“Yes!” Seraphina eagerly said, jumping to her feet. Mary nodded and began leading the way. Outside, the others had mostly begun dispersing. They would not make it terribly far, however. Astra lagged behind, eager to catch another glimpse of the Saint. She could hardly believe her fortune. Schooling had always been wasted on her, her natural talents almost always exceeding the meagre knowledge of her instructors. Now, however, she saw an opportunity to get some real benefit from her education. When the girl with the golden eyes stepped out of the building, she pounced, wrapping a hand around Seraphina’s arm.

“Seraphina, I am Astra Ashton,” she said in her most formal tone. “Would you accompany me to lunch today?”

“Sorry, but I-” Seraphina began, eyes wide with surprise.

“We have plans,” Mary interrupted, staring down Astra.

“Well, I am certain you could reschedule,” Astra insisted, her grip on Seraphina’s arm instinctively tightening.

“I think we could-” Seraphina tried again, but her words were quickly drowned out.

“Perhaps you misunderstood,” Mary said. “Sera and I are already heading to lunch, so if you would kindly let her go. You could always try to ask her again tomorrow.”

“I am certain the Saint would rather accompany me,” Astra said, rolling her eyes slightly. She began walking, pulling Seraphina along, but her stride was stopped when a boney hand wrenched down on her own wrist, wanking her grip free from Seraphina.

“Have a drop of sense, would you?” Aldric said, his grip firm even in Astra’s attempts to shake him off. “Can’t you see she doesn’t want to come with you?”

“Let go of me, you filth!” Astra demanded. “Who do you think you are?”

“Apologise to her, and stop treating her like some trophy,” Aldric insisted, his hold on her unwavering. “You treat her like she isn’t human. It is no wonder they call you a witch.” Mary was the first to react, grabbing Seraphina’s shoulders and yanking her backwards, away from Astra. Astra’s eyes quickly darkened, a deep blaze of fury boiling in their depths. An orange shimmer enveloped her body, making Aldric instinctively squint as her form became hazy. Before he could react further, he found himself flying through the air, feeling like he was kicked by a mule. He skidded and rolled to a stop on the ground, his body aching all over. Slowly, he tried to right himself, but he only got as far as propping himself up on his elbows when he felt cold steel against his neck.

“You would be wise to keep your hands to yourself if you wish to keep them,” Vincent hissed, pressing his sword into Aldric’s neck, nearly drawing blood. “Believe it or not, I am showing you mercy. If you ever dare speak to Astra in such a manner again, I will leave you to her wrath. You should know better than-”

“You should know to lower your blade,” Roland interrupted, his own sword shining in the light as he levelled it at Vincent.

“I hold no ill will towards you, Roland,” Vincent said, his eyes never leaving Aldric’s. “You are merely doing as the Commander ordered, and you had the sense to show us respect. You would be a fool to reject this opportunity, and I will not hold it against you, but you should not associate yourself with such lowlifes if you wish to succeed here.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Aldric groaned, his voice marred by the aching of his chest.

“It means that you are peasants who should know your place,” Vincent said, his tone cold and certain. “You, especially, Aldric. You are making a mockery of the Academy, and the Crown.” Aldric matched Vincent’s glare.

“I didn’t ask to be here,” he said. “I never asked for any of this. All I wanted was to be left alone, but people like you wouldn’t even give me that. You all wouldn’t let me be, so here I am!”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

By now a small crowd had gathered around them in the square, a collection of people eager to witness something that would break up the monotony of their lives. Despite that, some sense prevailed, as Lucas pressed through the crowd and stepped between the three men.

“You three need to calm down,” Lucas said, stepping in between the three men. He gingerly pinched both blades, pulling them away from their targets with minimal resistance. “Are you mad? Drawing your blades here? Were it not for our uniforms you would be imprisoned by now.” Vincent seemed to gain some awareness of his surroundings, sheathing his blade and walking off in the direction he’d last seen Astra. Roland stowed his blade as well, and Aldric finally pulled himself to his feet. The two men locked eyes for a moment.

“Could you not conduct yourself better?” Roland asked.

“Why should I conduct myself any differently?” Aldric asked, indignant. “They act like they are better than us. How could you just stand there and take it? Don’t you have any pride?”

“Of course I have pride, Aldric,” Roland said, gritting his teeth. “But my pride can not come at the cost of this opportunity. Why can you not see the position you are in? You and I are at the mercy of our masters, and if we do not satisfy their expectations we will lose everything. I do not know your circumstances, but from what you have told me you do not have much to return to.” Aldric did not respond. His glare only grew more severe as he turned and limped towards the castle.

“Roland, I understand that you were just defending Aldric, but standing against Vincent Ashton is a bad idea,” Lucas said, putting a hand on Roland’s shoulder. Before Roland could enquire further, Lucas also left, and the crowd around him dispersed, leaving Roland alone. He meandered towards the fountain at the centre of the square, hardly noticing the hushed whispers that followed him.

The water rippled gently, disturbing and distorting the reflection that greeted him within its shallow depths. He gazed into the eyes of his rapidly shifting self, his mind drifting far away, to his home. The King had promised him that Soldeset would be safe, though Roland could not help but wonder if he would be true to his words. A part of him wished bitterly to turn back to the city’s gates, to run as fast as his legs could carry him, but the ever-present weight on his waist rooted him in the spot. He could mean much more for his home where he was now. With a deep sigh, he turned around, ready to face the rest of the world. Instead, he came to face with a girl who nearly leapt out of her skin at his sudden motion.

“Sorry, I did not mean to-” she began, her speech quickly devolving into stammering as she was not sure herself what she was apologising for. Roland recognised her, though were it not for her uniform he might not have. She all but vanished into the background in the classroom.

“My apologies, I did not hear your name in class,” Roland said, trying to stop her stuttering. “I am Roland Wainright.”

“Yes, I remember,” the girl said, trying to compose herself. “My name is Elisa… Perch! Elisa Perch.”

“You are not very comfortable around people, are you, Elisa?” Roland asked, suppressing a grin. Even in his current mood, he found her awkwardness somewhat endearing.

“No,” Elisa admitted, her shoulders slouching. “But I wanted to talk to you if you do not mind me taking your time.”

“Please, if you do not, someone else will, and it will doubtlessly be less pleasant,” Roland said, sitting down on the edge of the fountain. Elisa perched herself next to him. For a moment she did not say a word, hyping herself up for the conversation ahead.

“I saw you fight in the tournament,” she finally said. “Both you and Aldric fought incredibly. It was unbelievable.”

“Thank you,” Roland said, unsure how to receive this praise. “Honestly, I did not expect to make it far. I do not know how I made it to the final round against all the warriors in the kingdom. I was certain it would be one of the royal guards that would win.” Elisa looked at him with some surprise.

“The royal guard was not allowed to compete,” she explained. “No one with formal training was. Only self-taught commoners fought in the tournament.”

“That explains why I still feel so outmatched here,” Roland muttered. “If Vincent had retaliated against me, I am certain he would have trounced me easily.

“You can not compare yourself to Vincent,” Elisa assured. “He and Astra are a part of the wealthiest merchant family in the city. You… you are like me.”

“You are a commoner too?” Roland asked. “How did you get into the academy?” Elisa looked away, the tips of her ears reddening slightly.

“I was given an opportunity because of my academic performance,” she explained.

“That is incredible,” Roland praised. “You should feel very proud of yourself. You truly earned your place.”

“So did you!” she quickly retorted. “It is something I do not understand. I saw it in the tournament. You and Aldric both must hold such immense power. Why were you not moved to the capital as children?”

“I can do no magic,” Roland explained. “After the weakness in my kiln was discovered, few people would pay me any mind.” He looked down at his hands, calloused and hardened from years of training under Riva. “I was taken under someone’s wing, and they helped me uncover my potential. It was enough to bring me here.”

“Even without magic?” Elisa asked, her eyes wide. “You won the tournament by strength alone?”

“I do not consider it a win,” Roland said. “Had the Saint not intervened, the result would have been different.”

“Aldric collapsed after the bout, and you were left standing,” Elisa insisted. “You should hold your head high in victory.”

“Aldric almost died,” Roland corrected. “Seraphina saved his life. I would have been a murderer had she not.” A heavy silence descended between the two of them.

“Aldric is carrying a lot of pain,” Elisa finally said, breaking the silence. “I could see in his eyes. He is afraid. He seemed like a wild animal that got cornered.”

“I do not know much about his past. We have only truly spoken once,” Roland said, running his hands through his hair. “I thought that we had become friends then. He spoke honestly, and you are right. He carries a lot of fear in his heart, and he seems to be hiding it with anger.” Roland grinned slightly. “He was the same on that night.”

“You seem to hold him in some regard,” Elisa said.

“I do,” Roland confirmed. “I have never seen someone fight with so much fire in them. He has a warrior’s heart, despite his frailty, and beneath everything, I know he is a good man.”

“If he has so much power, why would he seem so scared?” Elisa asked, looking into Roland’s eyes for some answer.

“He has no more power now,” Roland said, prompting Elisa’s eyes to grow wide. “After our fight he… his magic caused damage to his own body. When the Sai-... Seraphina healed him, she also healed his kiln. It made him unable to use his magic. Now he has to learn what everyone else naturally figured out as toddlers.”

“Maybe the Academy will help him find his power again,” Elisa said hopefully. She stood, straightening out her uniform, and faced Roland. “Thank you for talking with me.”

“There is no need to thank me for something so simple, Elisa,” Roland said, rising to his feet as well. “I hope we can become good friends during our time together at the Academy.”

“I do too,” Elisa said, giving him a smile before turning and walking off into the city. Roland almost reflexively offered to walk with her, but the shadow cast by the fountain reminded him of the time. The Commander had known they would be let out early and insisted Roland return for more training as soon as he had his freedom. Setting his jaw, he took off for the castle, ready for another day of agonising growth.