Settling into Academy Life

The first few days were a blur of orientations, classroom introductions, and professors rattling off rules thicker than the walls of the academy itself. I kept messing up simple noble courtesies—forgetting to bow at the right angle, fumbling with utensils in the dining hall, and tripping during dance practice. The royals, to their credit, laughed with me instead of at me.

Still, I felt the weight of eyes. Students whispering, glancing my way. “That’s the fallen noble’s kid,” I overheard once. Another time, “Why is he even here with the royals?”

I tried to shrug it off. I had bigger things to worry about—like trying not to make a fool of myself in the spellcasting classes.

To my relief, I didn’t.

-----X-----X-----X-----

In our first practical lesson, Professor Hartwell had us line up and attempt a simple rune activation on the practice boards. “Channel your mana evenly,” he instructed, “and maintain a steady flow. The rune circle is delicate—impatience will cause backlash.”

Easy enough in theory. In practice… well, most students either fizzled out or caused harmless sparks.

When my turn came, I drew in a breath and pushed mana through carefully. The rune flared, brighter than anyone else’s, and the spell executed perfectly—an illusionary flame floating in the air.

Gasps echoed. Even Professor Hartwell’s eyebrows lifted. “Impressive control, Mister Redcliffe.”

I almost sagged with relief. Finally, something I didn’t mess up.

But then—crack. The rune circle on the next board over, which hadn’t been touched yet, sparked violently, the lines breaking apart like glass shattering. Students screamed and stumbled back as the rune collapsed in a burst of unstable mana.

“Alex!” someone shouted. “What did you do!?”

I froze. “I—I didn’t even touch that one!”

Lucas Alderbane’s sneer cut across the room. “Figures. The fallen noble breaks everything he touches.” His voice carried, feeding the whispers already swirling.

Hartwell quickly restored order, scolding everyone for panicking, but the damage was done. The others glanced at me warily, as though just standing next to me might make their spells collapse too.

-----X-----X-----X-----

That evening, we were invited to a welcome gathering hosted by the Student Council—a group of upperclassmen who held enormous sway over the academy. They were the shining examples of noble etiquette and magical prowess, respected and feared alike.

The President, a tall boy with cold eyes named Adrian Vale, welcomed us with smooth words: “New students are the future of the academy. May you shine bright—and may you not burn uncontrolled.”

His gaze flicked toward me for just a second too long. My stomach tightened.

The Vice President, a sharp-tongued girl named Marielle, smiled thinly. “Unstable brilliance often burns itself out,” she said in passing, her words too casual to be coincidence.

I didn’t know why, but their presence made the back of my neck prickle. They smiled like patrons, but their eyes… their eyes weighed, measured, judged.

-----X-----X-----X-----

The next day, during lunch, I tried to laugh off the rune incident. “Look, I swear I didn’t even step near that circle.”

Amara nodded firmly. “Of course you didn’t. I was right there.”

Duric slammed a chicken leg down onto the table. “Then why blame you? It makes no sense!”

“Because it’s easy,” Selindra murmured. Her calm gray eyes flicked toward the Council’s table, where Adrian and Marielle were whispering with two other members. “When the respected point a finger, everyone else follows.”

Her words sent a chill down my spine.

-----X-----X-----X-----

By the end of the week, I’d settled into a strange rhythm: classes, meals, laughing with the royals… and then, inevitably, another whisper about me, another side-eye in the halls. I tried to focus on the good—the way Serenya wove flower crowns and placed them on my head with a giggle, the way Cedric corrected my sword grip without judgment, the way Amara’s smile made the weight a little easier to carry.

But every time I saw the Council watching from across the hall, I felt like a bug pinned under glass.

Maybe I was imagining it. Maybe.

Still, one thought gnawed at me as I lay awake in the dorm:

If the rune had collapsed before I touched it, then why did everyone assume it was my fault? And why had the Treasurer of the Council—who I’d seen setting up the runes earlier—been so quiet when it happened?

I didn’t have an answer yet. But deep down, something told me this was only the beginning.