Six days passed after the Special Quest, and Cassian’s life returned to a sense of normalcy. He walked the halls composed, answered when called upon, performed well in class.

  To everyone, he seemed the same. However, he was even colder than before. He spoke less. He did not linger after lessons. He no longer initiated conversations. His objective had changed, from keeping his good reputation as a Viamnova, to keeping people away.

  When Todd began recounting some ridiculous idea for a future banquet, Cassian listened politely and let the moment pass. When Sabrina asked for his thoughts on an exercise, he answered precisely, then fell quiet again.

  Todd noticed this change, quickly. At the beginning he asked outright, loudly, what had happened and what was wrong. He demanded answers in the middle of corridors. Sabrina had to step in more than once, pulling him aside. Whatever she said to him had worked. Todd clearly didn’t like Cassian’s new attitude, but there were no further outbursts.

  Neither of them stopped walking beside him, however. Neither of them stopped sitting with him. If anything, they became more deliberate about it. When Cassian distanced himself, they simply adjusted their pace and closed the distance again.

  He never told them to leave. Somehow, he just couldn’t find the strength to do it, another showcase of his pathetic, weak self.

  At the academy, the atmosphere changed dramatically. On the first day back, the faculty announced new regulations. Students were now permitted to challenge one another to duels anywhere on academy grounds, except during class and inside the banquet hall. Every other location was fair territory.

  Each student received a wooden practice sword. They were even permitted to take it home to practice. The teachers emphasized that any abuse of this privilege would result in immediate restriction. Corridors turned into arenas. Courtyards into battlegrounds. Students walked alert, half expecting to be called out at any moment. Clusters formed constantly around spontaneous duels. Everyone seemed eager either to prove themselves or to test someone else.

  The professors assured them this frenzy was normal. The first week would feel like a battlefield. Then, novelty would fade. It always did. For now, the academy hummed with tension. Priscilla and Jurgen were especially relentless. They challenged each other repeatedly, sometimes finishing one duel only to begin another moments later. And both were heard complaining that first contact duels were not enough to truly decide the outcome. It escalated to the point where faculty intervened and restricted them to five duels per day. No more.

  Everyone carried wood at their side.

  Everyone except Cassian. His victory had granted him the privilege of wielding a metal-blend training sword. The same conductive alloy Siegfried used. The same refined material that shaped Athena’s rapier. It channeled mana more efficiently, carried spells more cleanly. It was not sharper, not deadlier, but undeniably superior.

  It did not go unnoticed. Jurgen made sure of that. He had been heard complaining about it more than once. Then one afternoon, in the middle of a hall, within clear hearing distance of Cassian, he said loudly.

  “If he didn’t have that thing, I would have already challenged and beaten him.”

  The words carried. Several students glanced between them. Cassian turned his head slowly. He met Jurgen’s gaze. Said nothing. He simply adjusted the metal-blend sword at his hip unsheathing just a tiny fraction as if to make sure it wouldn’t get stuck and continued walking. Jurgen didn’t say anything back, no one did; but the silence that followed was answer enough.

  The Cassian of the past would never have risked a bluff like that. But this time, he had been certain Jurgen would not challenge him. He had feared people would treat him different after the Special Quest. He had been right; everyone treated him differently. Just not in the way he had expected or feared.

  The admiration had grown.

  It had not dimmed after the spectacle in the trial grounds. Students watched him with a new sort of attention. Conversations quieted when he passed. Some looked at his sword. Others looked at him. Whispers followed, but not cruel ones. Awed ones.

  They had decided something about him. They had decided he was special.

  A prodigy. A strategist. A powerful magic user destined to change the world as Leonard had, as Henry had, as Alicia had. The blood of Champions ran through him, they said. It showed. And every word added weight.

  He had bought time, yes. But only time. Sooner or later, they would see it. When the spectacle faded and the raw truth of his magic remained, they would notice the weakness in it. The smallness. The restraint. The lack of overwhelming power. Clever ploys could only conceal so much. In the end, his magic would speak for itself.

  The walks through town became the worst of it.

  Someone always seemed to be recounting the Special Quest. Cassian knew most of them had not been allowed inside the Great Hall to watch, but stories had traveled fast. Someone who had been there had told someone else, and each retelling only made the tale grow larger.

  One merchant clasped his hands together in delight and told him how impressive it had been to watch him fend off both cousins at once after they tried to betray him. How clearly it proved the superiority of the main line over the secondary one. How decisive he had been.

  Cassian corrected him gently. Explained what had truly happened. He made it clear there had been no grand humiliation, no declaration of supremacy. He did not need more fire added to that rivalry. Rumors like that could only deepen wounds that were already raw.

  Still, the stories persisted. There was another change too. At the academy, he remained the Scion of Steel Blue. In town, however, a new name had begun to circulate. At first, he overheard it in passing. Then more clearly. A name the commoners have given him themselves.

  The Little General.

  It was not until the final lesson of the day that Cassian’s cold composure cracked. Todd had not followed him. Not in the morning. Not between classes. Not at lunch.

  There had been no loud greeting, no exaggerated commentary on passing birds or pastries or duels. Todd had kept his distance, speaking mostly to Sabrina, never once drifting toward Cassian as he always used to.

  Cassian noticed.

  He told himself that this was good. This was what he had wanted. Distance. Space. Fewer distractions. Yet the absence pressed against him in a way he had not expected. Had Todd finally given up?

  The thought stung far more than it should have. Cassian felt it and immediately rebuked himself. Weak. What did it matter? He had chosen this. He had decided to withdraw. If Todd had accepted it, then that was only natural.

  And yet.

  During practical magic, he saw him. Todd was crouching near the artificial river that cut through the training grounds, staring into the current. He was not performing. Not pretending. Just… small.

  Cassian stood there longer than he meant to. Then, against the resolution he had maintained for six days, he stepped closer.

  “Hey, Todd. Are you feeling alright?”

  Todd did not answer.

  Sabrina, who stood a few paces away, did.

  “Oh, he’s just crying over his kingdom.”

  Cassian frowned faintly. “The Candy Kingdom? What happened to it?”

  Todd looked up then, devastation plain on his face.

  “It has been sacked and plundered.”

  Cassian did not understand at first, but Todd continued.

  “My mom found it. She appropriated it.”

  The words came out hollow. Cassian straightened.

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  “But you earned that candy. Surely, if you explain that to your mo-”

  “You would think,” Todd cut in bitterly. “But my mother doesn’t work like that.”

  He spoke without looking at Cassian, as if the river were the only thing worth addressing.

  “She thinks the academy is a waste of time. Says I should help her wash clothes like my brothers. We do that for a living in my house…”

  He exhaled sharply.

  “I hid it first. In an abandoned shed nearby. I thought it would be safe. But then I got worried. What if it spoiled? So I tried to sneak it back into my room.”

  He swallowed.

  “I got caught.”

  Cassian could not stop himself. “Todd, the glass casing and wrappings were magically enhanced. They would not have spoiled.”

  Todd stared at him in disbelief.

  “Now you tell me.”

  He scrubbed at his face.

  “She let me keep three pieces. Three. Then she took the rest.”

  He continued, voice low and bitter.

  “She’s running a deal now. One piece of fudge if you bring her twelve pieces of laundry to wash. Two if it’s sheets. She even set up a little candy stall by the counter. My little brothers manage it.” He paused. “Doesn’t let me. Says I’d steal from her.”

  The river flowed on, uncaring.

  “I was a king!” Todd suddenly shouted. “Now? Now I am nothing!”

  Heads turned at once. Conversations faltered. Even a few duels slowed as students glanced toward the riverbank.

  Professor Illustris approached with unhurried steps, her presence alone enough to quiet most disturbances. She regarded Todd calmly before speaking in her usual serene tone.

  “Mr. Todd, here’s a brief history lesson for you. The First Human Rebellion was led by Androny, who claimed to be the great grandson of the last king, William the Second. After said war concluded, it was decreed that the act of declaring oneself a king was a punishable offense. In certain cases, the punishment extended as far as the loss of one’s head. You would do well to be careful with such titles.”

  Todd splashed the river with unnecessary force and looked up at her, not a trace of fear in his voice.

  “You didn’t see it, Professor. If you had, you’d understand. No other title fits someone who possessed that. Only king would suffice.”

  Sabrina looked at Todd with alarm, clearly ready to intervene before he dug himself any deeper. Then a sound emerged from Professor Illustris. It was wrong.

  A small, uneven burst of air, high and bright, but strangled midway as though it had not quite decided what it wanted to be. Not quite a laugh. Not quite a cough. A fragile, crystalline trill that seemed entirely out of place on her composed frame.

  A giggle.

  Strange. Bizarre. As if laughter were a language she had studied academically but never practiced aloud. Todd straightened at once, eyes wide with triumph.

  “What was-”

  Professor Illustris’s face returned to perfect serenity, hands folding neatly before her robes as she interrupted Todd.

  “I find you amusing, Mr. Todd,” she said evenly. “However, should you make sport of my laughter, I will have no choice but to reconsider my leniency.”

  Todd blinked, then raised a cautious finger, as though negotiating terms. “If you’re going to turn me into something,” he said carefully, “could it at least be something fast? Then I could sneak in and reclaim some of the candy my mother stole.”

  For a heartbeat, there was silence. Then the strange sound returned. Brighter this time. Still wrong. Still as if it did not quite belong in the world. “Very well,” she said at last. “A cat.”

  Sabrina cut in at once. “No, a kitten. So he can be cute.”

  Professor Illustris inclined her head with solemn agreement. “You are quite right, Miss Longhorn. A kitten it will be.”

  That did it. Something in the absurdity of it all, as if the three of them had planned this comedy act for him, cracked through the tight shell Cassian had rebuilt around himself. The laughter came out of him before he could stop it. Not polite. Not restrained. A full, helpless laugh that bent him forward and stole his breath.

  Todd and Sabrina exchanged a quick, relieved glance, and then joined in, their laughter mingling with his. Professor Illustris cleared her throat, composure restored. They were to return to practice at once. They assured her they would. She departed with measured steps.

  For a brief moment, it was only the three of them again, and Cassian felt something loosen in his chest.

  Then the moment ended. Laughter approached from behind them. Different laughter. Sharper. Meaner.

  Jurgen and his circle strolled along the riverbank, amusement still hanging in the air from whatever private joke they had shared. Jurgen’s gaze fell on Todd, and his smile curved.

  “I knew you were a commoner,” he called out loudly, “but really? Washing other people’s clothes?”

  He shrugged off his academy jacket and tossed it toward Todd’s feet.

  “Here. Use the river. If you do a decent job, I might throw you a penny.”

  Todd did not flinch. He picked up the jacket, examined it, then looked at Cassian. “Think I can sell this? Might help me rebuild the Candy Kingdom.”

  Jurgen’s expression darkened at once. “Give that back, commoner.”

  Sabrina stepped forward, placing herself between them. “If you didn’t want him to have it, you shouldn’t have thrown it at him, dullard. And Todd, I doubt you can sell that. It reeks of idiot. That stain doesn’t wash out.”

  Jurgen let out a sharp, barking laugh. “Are all the women here mouthy? Every single one?”

  As if summoned by the insult, Priscilla and her companions approached from the path behind him.

  “Calling a lady mouthy,” she said coolly. “How unrefined, and hypocritical considering it comes from someone with the biggest mouth in the academy.”

  Jurgen turned on her. “What do you want? Our five duels are already done for today, And unless my memory fails me, I won most of them.”

  “My record still stands above yours,” Pricilla shot back.

  “It won’t for long. Next week you’ll see, now scram. This doesn’t concern you.”

  “Oh, but it does,” Priscilla said, unfazed. “I thought you came her to fulfill your promise, you said you would challenge Cassian. I came to watch. I wanted to see you get humiliated. But I suppose I wasted my time; you’re just too afraid of him.”

  Jurgen’s face flushed. His hand drifted instinctively toward the hilt of his wooden sword.

  “I am not afraid of him.”

  His eyes locked onto Cassian.

  Cassian understood, too late, that the pendulum of Jurgen’s pride had been nudged too far. This was spiraling. Priscilla saw it too, and instead of stepping back, she pressed harder.

  “Then say it,” she urged. “If you’re not afraid. Say the words”

  Jurgen’s attention narrowed entirely on Cassian now. The river. The students. The laughter. It all seemed to fall away.

  Cassian braced himself for it. But the voice that rose next was not Jurgen’s. It was another girl’s voice, cutting across the tension before the challenge could be spoken.

  “Finally,” the girl said as she approached, her steps measured, posture flawless, “the three of you together.”

  She moved with quiet elegance, as if every motion had been practiced before a mirror for years. When she stopped before them, she performed a perfect curtsy.

  “Heirs of the great families, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Laney. Laney Perpetomundus.”

  Cassian knew her. Fifth in the class. Quiet. Quieter even than he had once been. Slim of frame and lithe, she walked with quiet, deliberate, unnoticeable steps, her long, impeccable dirty-blond braids swaying almost imperceptibly behind her back, standing as straight as if someone pulled a string attached to the top of her head. And even though it was clear that her clever light brown eyes missed nothing, she still was the sort of student who could sit in the same room for hours and go unnoticed. It was precisely why he had not thought of her in days.

  Priscilla inclined her head first. “An honor. Though, we have shared classes. I am Priscilla Virinterviros.”

  Jurgen followed immediately, unwilling to be second in anything. “Jurgen Quiascendus.”

  Cassian spoke last. “Cassian Viamnova. A pleasure to formally meet you.”

  Laney straightened from her curtsy with the same composed smile. “The honor is mine, sons and daughter of the great houses.”

  “Well?” Jurgen asked impatiently. “Was that all? I was in the middle of something.”

  Laney did not change her expression. “No. There is something I must ask of you.”

  Her eyes moved across the three of them with careful calculation.

  “I am searching for my master.”

  The words landed strangely.

  Cassian had expected many things. That was not one of them.

  He glanced at Jurgen and Priscilla. Both looked as bewildered as he felt.

  Todd, of course, was the first to recover. “So, you came looking for the Candy King, huh? Smart move. Unfortunately, I am currently candyless. Applications for servants are closed.”

  Laney’s chin lifted by a fraction. Her smile remained pleasant, but something colder flickered beneath it. She looked at Todd, then shifted her gaze to Cassian.

  “Mr. Viamnova,” she said evenly, “I am afraid I must deduct a point. The company you keep is rather unpleasant.”

  Before Cassian could respond, Priscilla stepped forward. “Speak plainly.” She clearly thought she was being made a fool of. “What do you mean?”

  Laney inclined her head. “Forgive me, Miss Virinterviros. Allow me to clarify. My family, the Perpetomundus, have for generations served the great houses. We are caretakers, stewards, and companions. We devote our lives to a single family. We guide, we protect, we advise, and in some cases, we help raise them.”

  Her gaze returned to the three heirs.

  “I am here to determine which of you I shall serve for the rest of my life.”

  The river seemed quieter all of a sudden. Even Jurgen did not speak at once.

  Laney folded her hands neatly before her. “I will observe. I will evaluate. And when I have chosen, I will not change my mind.”

  “And you waited for the three of us to be together to tell us this?” Jurgen asked, brows knitting. “What if we never had?”

  “That would have been unfortunate,” Laney replied calmly. “But I was certain it would happen eventually. I could have waited months, if necessary.”

  Jurgen stared at her as though she had confessed to something unhinged. “I see. You’re insane. Still, I could use a servant in this academy.” He gestured toward himself. “Come. I’ll make the decision for you.”

  A few of his friends snickered. Laney looked at him without irritation, without offense. Just quiet assessment.

  “That is one point deducted, Mr. Quiascendus,” she said. “Perhaps more than one, if that is how you address those who would serve you. I am not property. I choose who I serve.”

  Jurgen clicked his tongue. “Fine. So, what now? You’re going to check our grades? Follow us around? Take notes like some little scholar?”

  “Yes,” she answered simply. “That is how my family traditionally proceeds. We observe habits. Abilities. Skill under pressure. Temperament. I have already been watching the three of you.”

  Her gaze settled briefly on Cassian.

  “Though not as closely as I would have liked in your case, Mr. Viamnova. You are… very reserved.”

  Cassian felt a small chill run down his spine. She had been observing him. And he had not noticed her once.

  She continued before he could respond. “However, I have grown tired of waiting. Prolonged observation breeds hesitation. Hesitation breeds error.”

  She stepped back, opening her arms slightly, as if presenting an invisible stage.

  “Therefore, I will expedite the matter.”

  Her eyes moved from Jurgen, to Priscilla, to Cassian.

  “Next week, I will duel each of you.”

  There was no boast in her tone. No drama. Just decision.

  “Whoever performs best,” she finished, “I will pledge my life to.”