The sounds of scions and bodyguards gathering their things to leave the class still echoed in Klarion’s ears are he left the sparring lesson behind him. His muscles were still tense from the rigorous training, thankfully they were already starting to loosen as he followed in the direction Professor Thrain had gone. He had no idea what this was about, but clearly the professor wanted to speak with him away from the rest of the class.

  Stepping back into the hallway from which they had previously entered the class, Klarion saw that the professor was moving slowly, and had not waited for Klarion to follow. Without a word, he rushed to catch up to Professor Thrain, Hatsune following close behind.

  The professor led them toward a side hallway deeper in the Martial Hall than Klarion had yet gone. Unlike the grand entrances and wide corridors meant for students, this hallway was narrow, almost utilitarian, lined with thick stone walls and dimly lit torches that cast an orange glow. Not much farther and they started to come across sealed rooms with placards denoting what kinds of equipment, armor, or weapons were inside. It felt more like a fortress armory than part of the Academy.

  As they walked, the professor spoke without looking back. “How close are you to your class?”

  Klarion nearly lost a step, as out of all the potential questions, he had not expected that one. “Why are you asking?”

  Professor Thrain snorted, the sound halfway between amusement and derision. He finally looked back over his shoulder at Klarion. “Campus talks. And the word is you entered into a binding Noble’s Agreement with Scion Copperhand. One in which you might have to leave campus or face a duel to the death.”

  Klarion felt a small flash of irritation, though not at the professor. He had expected people to find out eventually, but the speed at which rumors traveled at the Academy was unsettling. It hadn’t even been a full week since that particular decision had been made.

  Klarion rubbed the back of his neck, deciding to be truthful with the professor. “I’ve constructed the list of what I need to unlock a class, and I’m about ready to go in search of the materials. Why?”

  Professor Thrain stopped in front of a reinforced door, one heavier than its neighbors, and turned fully to face them. His dark eyes studied Klarion with an expression that was difficult to read—part scrutiny, part something else.

  “Let’s just say I’ve heard a bit about some rumors,” he said, voice low, “and I wanted to advise you to get a move on.”

  Klarion’s brows furrowed. “I thought professors weren’t supposed to take sides.”

  Professor Thrain’s lips twisted into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “We don’t. But that doesn’t prevent us from having opinions—or from giving out free advice, within the scope of very specific boundaries.”

  To his side, Klarion felt more than saw Hatsune tilting her head slightly. He could practically feel how her green eyes sharpened with interest but she remained silent, letting Klarion take the lead.

  “That’s a bit cryptic.” Klarion folded his arms, meeting the older man’s gaze. “You make it sound like I need to hurry.”

  Without answering, the professor unlocked the door with a heavy iron key that he pulled from an inner pocket. He pushed the door open, revealing an armory. Weapons lined the walls—blades of various shapes and sizes, polearms, even a few weapons Klarion couldn’t immediately recognize. The space was lit by enchanted crystals that cast a steady, pale light over the racks of armor that rested on stands around the small room.

  “Timing matters,” Thrain said as they both glanced around the room. “Some things can wait. This isn’t one of them.” He gestured for them to step inside.

  Klarion did so, Hatsune right behind him, and the weight of the words settled over him. Whatever the professor said, Klarion got the sense already that this was about more than just casual advice. The air in the private armory was thick with the scent of oiled metal and aged leather. Klarion spared a brief glance at the impressive collection, but Professor Ardek Thrain’s voice pulled his attention back.

  “You should know,” the professor said, stretching the words out, “there’s no required attendance in these first-year classes. You just have to unlock a class and pass the exams at the end of the year.”

  Klarion blinked in surprise, his attention shifting fully to the professor as he was caught off guard by his words. No required attendance? That was the first time he had heard anything of the sort. Every instructor thus far had all but emphasized the rigor of their courses, the importance of absorbing every lesson, of mastering every topic before the exams at the end of the year. Why was Professor Thrain telling him about this?

  Professor Thrain let out a sharp exhale at Klarion’s expression, almost a chuckle but devoid of humor. “You’re sharp, Blacksword. Strong, too. But neither strength nor wit will do you a damn bit of good if you’re walking around without a class while the rest of your peers start advancing. You think this place is ruthless now?” He let out a low scoff. “Wait until the gaps start forming. Until the ones who’ve unlocked their classes start testing themselves against the ones who haven’t. You’ll find out real quick where you stand then.”

  Seeing he wasn’t quite getting through to Klarion, the professor unfolded his arms and took a step closer, lowering his voice just enough that the weight of his words pressed down heavier. “Listen to me, boy. You will unlock your class. You will do it before you return to class or my training field, before you step into another damn lecture hall, before you even think about keeping up with the rest of your lessons.” He held up a hand to prevent Klarion from interrupting him. “You might think you have everything sorted out, that you have enough time if you wait until the start of the Festival to start attempting to unlock your Essences and gathering the materials to unlock your class. But you need to listen to me when I say this: You need to get a move on. These things take longer than you expect sometimes, and my gut tells me you might need every spare minute.”

  Klarion clenched his jaw, frustration boiling through. He respected Professor Thrain—and everything he had seen so far told him he was right to do so—but the professor didn’t understand just how far behind he was. Nor how new everything was to him after living his entire life on Earth. But he couldn’t tell him that.

  “You don’t get it,” Klarion said, shaking his head. “I’ve been behind since the moment I stepped foot in this Academy. Half these other scions have had their paths set in stone for years. I’m still scrambling to put mine together.” His fingers dug into his palm. “If I drop everything to focus on unlocking Essences and the class I have chosen, what happens when I finally do it and realize I’ve fallen so far behind in my other lessons that I can never catch up?”

  Stolen story; please report.

  Professor Thrain’s expression didn’t change, but his gaze hardened, unyielding. “Falling behind in classes isn’t what will get you expelled,” Thrain responded patiently. “And if you do fall behind, you can always purchase private tutoring later. The Academy has an army of instructors and tutors where you can purchase anything from single lessons to years of help for Coins of Service.”

  Klarion was at once relieved to know that was an option, and frustrated to know how much that might cost him. From what little he knew already, Coins of Service were a valuable resource, and not one easily acquired. He didn’t like the thought of relying on such things to keep up, but the professor’s words carried an unspoken warning. He wasn’t just advising Klarion to prioritize survival; he was hinting that the pressures and dangers surrounding him would only grow. And that the only way he would survive them is if he set everything else aside to get his Essences and class now.

  Hatsune, standing slightly behind Klarion, flicked an ear but said nothing. She was watching Thrain carefully, her green eyes narrowing just slightly.

  After a long pause to give Klarion time to think over what he had said, Thrain exhaled sharply and changed the subject. “Whether you take my advice is up to you, but while I have you here, I had something else I wanted to talk with you about. Do you have any armor yet?”

  Klarion shook his head, happy to change the topic for now. “No, not yet.”

  Professor Thrain nodded as if he had already anticipated the answer “Then let’s fix that.”

  When the professor waved him over, Klarion followed Professor Thrain as the older man strode toward a side rack where older sets of armor were displayed. These were not the polished ornamental pieces that Klarion visualized nobles as favoring but suits that had seen real combat. The steel was dull with age, marred by the passage of time and battle. Some bore scratches, others dents, yet all remained sturdy, their craftsmanship unyielding. All were spare sets in storage, perhaps? Or maybe pieces for practice sessions that required sometime closer to live combat?

  Professor Thrain stopped before a particular suit of field plate, its darkened steel holding the faintest sheen under the flickering torchlight. He ran a hand over the chest piece, inspecting the leather straps before nodding to himself. “This one should do.”

  Klarion stepped forward, resting his palm against the cool metal as the professor gestured for him to take it. It was heavier than he expected, solid and unyielding beneath his touch. Perhaps it wasn’t made from just steel.

  “This is for me?” Klarion asked with some confusion, glancing toward the professor.

  “It’s one of the benefits of being a professor in the Martial Hall, that we can loan out equipment to first-year scions who we believe will be working to unlock their classes soon.” Professor Thrain nodded. “We’ll see if this fits, but even if it does you will have to bring it back after unlocking your class or pay for its replacement. Now, go ahead, try it on. It will fit over your uniform.”

  Klarion hesitated only a moment before beginning to lift the armor from the stand. As he struggled to put the first pieces on, Hatsune stepped forward, her fingers deftly securing the buckles and adjusting the fit without a word. She moved with practiced efficiency, her sharp green eyes flicking over each plate as she tightened the straps. Klarion wasn’t sure if she had ever helped someone don armor before, but she worked quickly, each motion precise. He’d have to ask her later to help him practice the process.

  As the last strap was secured, Klarion rolled his shoulders, adjusting to the weight. Unlike the decorative sets he had thought about in the past, this armor was meant for war. It bore no unnecessary embellishments, only function and purpose. It was heavy but it did not feel uncomfortable. Though that likely was the influence of his stats kicking in.

  Professor Thrain stepped back, his keen gaze assessing Klarion in the newly fitted armor. After a long moment, he nodded. “Good fit. Field plate like this is built to take a beating. Should serve you well until you unlock your class.” The neutral look on the professor’s face faded to be replaced with one more grim as he waved them out of the room. “Think about what I said, but regardless if you heed my advice or not, you will not be welcome in my class until you have a class.”

  Without another word, Professor Thrain quickly locked the door and turned on his heel, and strode away, deeper into the Martial Hall, his heavy boots echoing against the stone floor.

  Klarion watched Professor Thrain go, his mind turning over the man’s parting words. The armor was a gift, albeit one he would have to return or pay for after unlocking his class, but the more he thought about it, the more he valued the conversation they had more. Professor Thrain’s words echoed in his mind, resonating with something deep inside him. The professor had not spoken them lightly, nor was he the kind of man to waste time on empty advice. He had seen something in Klarion—potential, perhaps, or maybe just the raw hunger to improve. Whatever the case, his message was clear.

  Klarion exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders to test the weight of his new armor. The fit was near perfect, the craftsmanship solid. It would serve him well in the days to come. Looks like he would be moving up his timeline to work on claiming the Essences that would allow him to unlock his class. Reading between the lines of what the professor had said, he would likely not wait any longer than his Etiquette and Courtly Manners class the next day.

  Hatsune stepped closer. “If what the professor was hinting at is true, we should be extra careful, even with the Noble’s Agreement you made,” she murmured, her voice low enough that only he could hear.

  He glanced at her, noting the tension in her stance, the way her ears flicked ever so slightly as she listened for threats that might not yet exist. Klarion adjusted one of the straps of his armor, securing it slightly more firmly before meeting her gaze. “We will be. Let’s get going.”

  Satisfied, she gave a small nod, though the tightness in her expression did not fade. Together, they left the armory behind, eventually emerging into the cool air outside the Martial Hall. Most of the scions that had been in his class had already departed with their bodyguards, but some few yet lingered. None approached them, however.

  As they walked, Klarion let his thoughts settle into order. Professor Thrain’s advice wasn’t something he could afford to ignore, but neither could he act recklessly.

  Tomorrow’s class, Etiquette and Courtly Manners, was one class that he thought would be unavoidable. He likely could skip it, but given how the professor had initially treated him, he didn’t want it to get back to the man that he had attended all his other classes this week and then decided to skip out on his. Even if he wished he could do so. No, if he skipped without a reasonable excuse, it would just draw attention he didn’t want. So he would attend that class tomorrow, play the part expected of him, and then move forward with his plans as soon as it was over.

  That reminded him: He needed to speak with Redrek and Valdre. Both of them were strong in their own ways, and both had become friends he trusted. Redrek, with his pragmatism, would understand the necessity of this move. Valdre would likely agree as well, and while the half-frost elf might not approve of skipping classes, he wouldn’t try to stop him either. If anything, Valdre might even offer insights into the best ways to acquire what Klarion needed. Once he was done speaking with them, he would focus only on working to unlock the two Essences and then his class.

  Hatsune must have noticed the shift in his expression as he made up his mind because she spoke again, softer this time. “You’ve decided, then?”

  “You know me too well,” he said with a smile at the Leporine as they continued making their way back to Blacksword Manor.

  She sighed, crossing her arms. “And I also know that when you set your mind to something, nothing short of death will stop you. So if we’re doing this, we do it right. No reckless fights. No unnecessary risks.”

  “I never take unnecessary risks,” he said, though he knew it was a lie and she wouldn’t believe it.

  Her ears flicked in exasperation, but she didn’t rise to his bait.

  They continued walking, the campus gradually becoming more quiet around them, most students having gone off to get a meal or to socialize with friends for the rest of the day. Despite the stillness, Klarion felt more alive than he had in days. He was no longer just reacting to the pressures placed upon him—he was making his own decisions, seizing control of his future rather than waiting for it to be dictated by others.

  Tomorrow, he would play his role within the academy. He would endure Etiquette and Manners, after which he would meet with Redrek and Valdre, solidify his next steps, and then commit to what he needed to do to get the class he wanted. And once he did, no one—not Chadwick, nor the other scions arrayed against—would be able to stand in his way.

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