Welcome to the Academy, Now Get in Line

"Obscurity and a competence—that is the life that is best worth living."

— Mark Twain

———

Our carriage crested the final hill, and the academy sprawled before us in impossible grandeur. Four towers pierced the sky, each one a monument to its respective House. The Sunstone Spire of House Aurum caught the morning light and threw it back in golden cascades, its white marble walls seeming to glow from within.

Anor Londo before the fall, I thought, watching the light dance across those perfect stones. All that beauty built on the bones of the forgotten.

To the east, House Argent's Lyceum twisted upward in elegant spirals of silver and blue, its crystalline windows refracting rainbow patterns. House Vermillion's Obsidian Manor crouched in shadow despite the bright morning, its black stone drinking in light. And there, set apart like a fortress preparing for siege, stood the West Bastion—House Onyx's domain of charcoal grey and dull bronze.

Home sweet home.

Waterfalls of pure mana cascaded down the academy's central spire, feeding into glowing pools. Students and faculty moved across floating bridges spanning impossible gaps, their robes billowing in winds that carried whispers of ancient magic.

Our modest carriage looked like a funeral procession arriving at a wedding. Ahead, Leo's golden carriage rolled through the main gates to actual cheers. Servants in pristine livery rushed to attend him. Behind him, Lucius arrived in a sleek black vehicle that drew respectful nods—not adoration, but acknowledgment of power.

Then came us.

"Master," Lyra murmured. "The stares."

She was right. Every eye tracked our approach, not with curiosity or welcome, but with aristocrats measuring the distance between themselves and failure. Our carriage's worn leather and modest brass fittings marked us clearly as "declining house" and "charity case."

"Let them look," I said. "They see exactly what I want them to see."

Through the window, I activated [Narrative Appraisal] and cataloged the crowd. Students clustered in obvious hierarchies—House Aurum's golden children surrounding Leo like planets orbiting a sun, House Argent's calculating minds forming tight discussion groups, House Vermillion's ancient bloodlines maintaining aloof distance.

And there, scattered throughout like afterthoughts, the members of House Onyx. They stood apart even from each other, united only by their shared status as unwanted. Some bore the hollow look of fallen nobility, others the hungry gaze of commoners who'd clawed their way up only to discover they still weren't welcome.

My people. Whether they know it yet or not.

Our carriage stopped at what could generously be called a side entrance. While Leo got a red carpet, we faced a simple stone archway marked by a bronze plaque reading "West Bastion - House Onyx." Students streamed past, their conversations a murmur of gossip punctuated by cruel laughter.

"Is that really him?"

"Failed his awakening, didn't he? Pathetic."

"My father says House Leone is one bad investment away from selling their name for scrap."

I stepped out, deliberately catching my foot. A stumble, a flail—just enough to draw expected snickers.

Lyra followed, shoulders slumped, eyes fixed on the ground.

The main entrance's doors were carved from single blocks of white marble, inlaid with precious metals forming patterns representing all four Houses.

We joined the queue, or rather, were shunted aside. Important students first, lesser nobles second, charity cases last. I studied the intake process, watching how each student was categorized and directed.

That's when I saw him.

Prefect Alistair Valerius stood at reception. His spine was straighter than a fresh-forged sword, his golden hair so perfectly coiffed it looked like a helmet.

The cousin who got left behind. All the Valerius bloodline, none of the Valerius magic.

Through [Narrative Appraisal], his stats appeared:

Name: Alistair Valerius

Level: 3

Class: [Administrative Enforcer]

Role: [Petty Authority Figure]

Weaknesses: Pride, Resentment, Rule Obsession

Finally our turn. We approached his desk, stepping into his circle of frigid order.

His quill poised like a scalpel, his eyes flicked up, assessing and dismissing me instantly.

"Name."

"Kaelen Leone," I said. "House Leone. I believe I'm expected?"

His finger traced down the ledger. A small, bitter smile tugged at his mouth as he read.

"Leone. Right." He looked at my modest clothes and uncertain posture.

"I'm to be sorted into House Onyx, I believe?"

"Indeed." He gestured toward a side corridor. "House Onyx is in the West Bastion. Assignments are third door on the left. Try not to track mud on the marble."

"Thank you. I'll be careful."

"See that you are." He'd already moved on, dismissing me completely.

Lyra and I gathered our luggage and headed for the corridor.

In the West Bastion, the air grew colder. The scent of polished marble gave way to damp stone and old torch smoke. Our footsteps echoed in the narrow passage.

The servants' quarters of a palace. Functional, forgettable, and perfectly suited to my needs.

"Master," Lyra said quietly. "That man. Alistair. He has plans for you."

"Of course he does. Men like Alistair live for moments like this." We passed through the third door into a common area furnished by someone with a grudge against comfort. "He sees a Leone name and thinks he's been given permission to settle old scores."

The dormitory assignment desk was staffed by a bored upperclassman who barely glanced up.

"Kaelen Leone. First year."

He consulted a small ledger. "Room 247. Third floor, end of the hall. Your attendant gets the servant's quarters on the ground level." He handed me an iron key. "House meeting tonight at eight. Don't be late."

"Thank you. Is there anything else I should know?"

His eyes met mine. "House Onyx doesn't coddle its members. You'll figure out the rest on your own, or you won't. Either way, it's not my problem."

Charming.

The academy was everything I'd expected—a pressure cooker of ambition and resentment where every interaction carried political consequence. Perfect for my plans.

"Lyra." I stopped at the second-floor landing. "Your quarters are below, but I want you to see my room first. You'll need to know the layout."

Room 247 sat isolated at the hall's end. I unlocked the door to reveal my home for the next four years.

The room was adequate. A narrow bed, a small desk beneath the single window, an aged wardrobe, and an ancient washbasin. The window overlooked practice fields and distant forest.

Not the Sunstone Spire, but it serves my purposes.

Lyra explored like a cat in new territory, noting the loose floorboard and the window latch that didn't quite catch.

"It's perfect," she said.

I gazed out at the grounds. Somewhere, Leo was probably being shown princely quarters. Lucius would be calculating political advantages. Other students would be establishing social hierarchies.

And here I stood in Room 247, the unwanted third son of a declining house, dismissed and forgotten before I'd even unpacked.

Exactly where I want to be.