Volume 1
Chapter 3: The Bard, The Mute, and The Cultural Void
The Academy cafeteria was a battlefield of social hierarchy, divided more rigidly than the Periodic Table of Elements.
In the center, bathed in sunlight from the enchanted glass dome, sat the Royals and the High Mages (The "Gold Cloaks"). They ate exotic fruits imported from the Elven lands and laughed with the confidence of people whose fathers owned the banks.
On the fringes, in the dimly lit corners near the kitchen vents, sat the Grey Cloaks. They ate brown stew that tasted vaguely of potatoes and despair.
Elian sat at "Table 9"—a wobbly wooden table wedged between a gargoyle statue and a mop bucket. This was his sanctuary.
"You guys missed it," Kael said, leaning back in his chair with dangerous disregard for gravity. He was peeling an orange with a small dagger. "Last night's Crystal Ball broadcast. The finals of the sky-racing league. Team Aethelgard pulled off a Reverse-Gravity Drift in the final lap. It was insane."
Elian poked his spoon into the brown sludge. "Gravity cannot be reversed, Kael. Only negated. If they reversed it, they would have been crushed by their own mass."
"You are sucking the soul out of life, Elian," Kael sighed. He tossed a wedge of orange at Silas.
Silas caught it effortlessly without looking up from his slate. The Mute Scholar was currently drawing a complex rune chain that looked like a headache given physical form. He scribbled something quickly and turned the slate around.
[It was a Negation Charm applied to the chassis, Elian is technically right. But it looked cool.]
"Thank you, Silas," Elian said. "At least someone respects the laws of physics."
This was the dynamic of Table 9.
Kael was the "Face." He was a Bard class, which meant his magic was woven into speech and song. He was handsome, lazy, and knew everything about everyone. He was the only reason Elian knew anything about the world outside of textbooks. Kael was the "Cultural Translator."
"By the way," Kael lowered his voice, leaning in. "Speaking of things you definitely didn't notice because you were staring at a wall... The Ice Queen is looking over here."
Elian stiffened. He didn't turn around. "No, she isn't."
"She is," Kael insisted. "She's sitting with the Student Council, but she keeps glancing at our mop bucket. Did you do something? Did you accidentally insult her ancestors?"
"I met her in the Clocktower," Elian muttered, instantly regretting it.
Kael dropped his orange. Silas stopped drawing.
[DETAILS.] Silas wrote in all caps, underlining it twice.
"It was nothing," Elian said defensively. "She heard me playing. She said it was 'perfect intonation.' Then she asked me to play again today. I said no."
Kael stared at him. "You... said... no?"
"I told her I had to study."
Kael put his head in his hands. "Elian. My brother in mana. The top-ranked mage in the Academy—a girl whose family owns half the crystal mines in the North—expresses interest in your music, and you rejected her to study for a class you are failing?"
"She was mocking me," Elian snapped. "It's a game, Kael. Royals don't hang out with Grey Cloaks unless they want a jester. I deleted the interaction."
"You deleted... never mind." Kael shook his head. "You have the social survival instincts of a suicidal lemming."
Elian went back to his stew. He knew Kael meant well, but Kael didn't understand the [Imposter's Shadow]. Kael was charming; he could float between social groups. Elian was static. He belonged in the background.
Suddenly, the noise in the cafeteria shifted. A group of students walked past Table 9.
It was a mix of Gold and Silver Cloaks—the "popular" crowd. In the center of the group was a girl with auburn hair and a bright, bubbly laugh.
Lara.
Elian's hand froze mid-spoon. His heart didn't race; it stopped. A cold, heavy sensation settled in his gut, like he had swallowed a stone.
Lara was laughing at something a tall Fire Mage said. Her eyes swept over Table 9. For a split second, her gaze locked with Elian's.
Elian didn't blink. He didn't frown. He simply... deactivated.
He engaged the [Silent Severance].
He looked through her, focusing his eyes on the wall behind her head as if she were made of glass.
Lara's smile faltered. She looked away quickly, a flash of guilt tightening her expression, and hurried her group along.
Kael watched the interaction with a grim expression. He stopped eating. The playful Bard demeanor vanished.
"She still hasn't apologized?" Kael asked quietly.
"There is nothing to apologize for," Elian said, his voice robotic. He forced himself to take another bite of stew. "The equation is balanced. She chose her variable. I removed mine."
Silas erased his rune and wrote a single word: [PAIN.]
"I'm not in pain," Elian lied. "I'm efficient. Drama wastes mana."
Kael sighed. "You know, Elian, one day you're going to have to actually feel something instead of turning it into a math problem. That was the 'Year of the Crystal Barrier,' right? When we were all remote?"
"We don't talk about that year," Elian said sharply.
"Fine. We don't talk about it." Kael leaned back, resuming his casual posture as the tension lingered. "But just so you know... the remedial practicals are coming up next week. I heard they're pairing people up."
Elian groaned. "Please tell me it's randomized."
"Nope. Professor Hyst is picking. Which means he's going to pair you with someone who makes you look bad, or someone who makes you look worse."
Elian looked down at his notes—the chaotic scribbles of vectors and valves.
"It doesn't matter," Elian said. "I'll fail anyway. Unless I can figure out how to bypass the Third Stanza without blowing up the classroom."
"Or," Kael suggested, "you could just ask the Ice Queen for tutoring. Since she's stalking you."
Elian threw a piece of bread at him. Kael caught it in his mouth.
"I hate you guys," Elian said, but for the first time that day, his shoulders relaxed.
"We know," Kael grinned. "That's why we're friends. We're the only ones who can tolerate your brooding genius act."
Elian snorted. Genius. That word again. A ghost from a past life.
He looked back at his notebook. He sketched a small valve next to the equation for fire.
Maybe, he thought. Maybe if I just compress the oxygen flow...
Unseen by Elian, across the cafeteria, Seraphina von Aethelgard was indeed watching Table 9. She wasn't looking at Kael's antics or Silas's slate. She was watching the boy in the grey cloak who looked through people like they weren't there.
"Interesting," she whispered.
End of Chapter 3