Will Carter had seven bruises on his arms.
Silas counted because Will made the mistake of rolling up both sleeves while talking.
Three on the left.
Four on the right.
One had gone yellow around the edges.
Two were new enough to remain dark purple.
None looked accidental.
Silas looked from the bruises to Will's face.
“Who did that?”
Will pulled his sleeves down.
“Doesn't matter.”
“That usually means it matters.”
They were back in Dormitory C after the morning's enrollment instruction. The first-years had been dismissed early while the academy finished assigning instructors, books, and work rosters.
Rain tapped against the windows.
A coal fire clicked softly in the stove.
Around them, the other sponsored students pretended not to listen.
Will sat on the edge of bed thirteen.
Silas remained on fourteen.
Yesterday, that arrangement had required violence.
Today it had apparently become law.
“You beat me,” Will said.
“Yes.”
Will gave him an annoyed look.
“You don't have to sound pleased.”
“I wasn't.”
“That was worse.”
Silas waited.
Will rubbed one wrist.
“Dorm C has rules.”
“You mentioned that.”
“I didn't explain all of them.”
“That would have been useful before the fight.”
“I didn't know you were going to throw me into my own bed.”
“You asked me to move.”
Will looked toward the ceiling.
“Right.”
One of the boys near the stove laughed.
Will ignored him.
“This is the sponsored dorm.”
“I noticed.”
“Not just that.”
Will leaned forward.
“All of us here are village seats, city relief seats, orphan placements, guild seats—whatever the academy calls it on paper.”
Silas looked around again.
Patched coats.
Repaired boots.
One boy with a blanket so thin it could nearly be read through.
A trunk with a broken corner bound in rope.
Nothing new.
But the pattern became clearer once named.
Will continued.
“The full-fee students have their own rooms in the east dorms. Some go home every night. Some have servants bring laundry.”
“Servants?”
“Yes.”
“At school.”
“Yes.”
Silas considered that.
“Expensive.”
“That is the part you found strange?”
“It explains the laundry.”
Will shook his head.
“The point is, some of them think this building means we're here because the academy felt sorry for us.”
“Isn't the academy subsidizing us?”
Several boys turned toward Silas.
Will stared.
“You say things like that on purpose.”
“No.”
“That makes it worse.”
Silas waited.
Will tried again.
“They think because we work for board and tuition, they can treat us however they want.”
He tugged one sleeve back.
The bruises showed again.
“Yesterday?”
Will's mouth tightened.
“Three fourth-years caught Tommy behind the old gym.”
The small boy near the wall looked suddenly fascinated by his shoes.
“What did Tommy do?”
“Walked there.”
Silas looked at Tommy.
Tommy shrugged.
“One of them wanted my cap.”
“Why?”
“It was my cap.”
That was sufficient reason for children and governments alike.
Silas looked back at Will.
“So you fought them.”
“I'm dorm lead.”
There it was.
Not pride.
Obligation.
Will continued.
“Whoever's strongest in C watches out for the rest.”
“Why doesn't the academy?”
“It does if a teacher sees.”
“And if no teacher sees?”
Will spread his hands.
Silas understood.
Institutions had reach.
Not omnipresence.
“The rule started before I got here,” Will said. “Strongest student takes the lead. If somebody comes after one of ours, they answer to the lead first.”
“And because I beat you—”
“Congratulations.”
Silas frowned.
“I don't want congratulations.”
“I don't want the job.”
That was unexpectedly honest.
Will leaned closer.
“You think being the lead means ordering people around? Mostly it means people wake you up because someone stole their boots.”
The boy with the missing boot earlier looked away.
“And fighting older students?”
“Sometimes.”
“You're Level Nine.”
Will straightened slightly.
“Eight when I came here.”
“Still no Crest.”
“No.”
“So some of the older students already have one.”
“Yes.”
Silas looked at the bruises again.
That changed the arithmetic.
A Crest was not merely one more level.
He did not yet know exactly how much difference it made in practice, but every adult he had spoken to treated the first Crest as a qualitative threshold.
Will had been fighting across it anyway.
“Why?”
Will frowned.
“Why what?”
“Why keep doing it?”
Will looked around the room.
As if the answer were obvious.
Maybe it was.
Silas remembered Old Jack standing under the Miller awning.
The village coins.
The coat.
The shirts.
You owe us effort.
Different scale.
Same structure.
“All right,” Silas said.
Will narrowed his eyes.
“All right what?”
“I'll do it.”
For a moment Will did not understand.
Then relief appeared so quickly he could not hide it.
Gone again.
“Good.”
“You could pretend to object.”
“Why?”
“Pride.”
“Got beat twice.”
Fair.
A boy beside the window raised a hand.
“Does that mean Silas is boss now?”
“No,” Silas said.
“Yes,” Will said.
Silas looked at him.
Will smiled.
“You agreed.”
“I agreed to help protect the dorm.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
“Close enough.”
Silas considered throwing him again.
Will seemed to notice.
“Lead,” he amended.
“That is marginally better.”
“Lead Hale.”
“No.”
The boys laughed.
Silas sighed.
This was going poorly.
Will made introductions afterward.
Not because Silas had asked.
Because, according to Will, a dorm lead who did not know everyone's name was useless.
That argument was difficult to dispute.
Tommy Reed had a Clay Jug Eidolon and two levels of Aether.
Ben Ward—not related to Evan, apparently—had a Barn Owl and four.
Lewis Pike had a splitting wedge and none measurable at Awakening, but could summon it well enough to help his father cut firewood.
Eli Mercer had a short-handled shovel.
Jacob Dunn had a Foxhound and six.
The dorm contained more variety than all of Briar Glen's Awakening ceremony.
It also contained less certainty.
Several boys had Eidolons useful in ordinary work but no Aether worth cultivating.
They were still enrolled because Greyhaven Preparatory Academy taught reading, arithmetic, trade accounting, history, and basic Eidolon control alongside Bearer studies.
That interested Silas.
Ward's crystal measured access to one kind of power.
The academy still sold other futures.
Not equally.
But they existed.
“And me,” Will said at the end, “Warcat. Level Nine.”
“Warcat?” Silas asked.
Will looked offended.
“You didn't ask yesterday.”
“You were trying to take my bed.”
“A man can do two things.”
“You're eight.”
“Same principle.”
Will summoned his Eidolon.
Aether gathered around his shoulders.
The change was less dramatic than Ward's Timber Wolf, but obvious.
His pupils narrowed.
His fingers curled.
For a moment, the shadow behind him seemed larger than his body, broad-shouldered and feline, with round ears and heavy forelegs.
Strength.
Balance.
Explosive movement.
Silas watched his feet.
Will noticed.
“You always look at feet?”
“They tell the truth more often than faces.”
Will dismissed the Warcat.
“That's strange.”
“It works.”
“My Aether's almost ten.”
“When you reach it?”
“Hunt.”
The room grew slightly quieter.
Even children with no real Bearer future paid attention to that word.
Will continued.
“If I hit the first threshold before end of term, the academy can place me with an authorized group. Get a Crest. Become Marked.”
Pride now.
Earned.
Silas understood that too.
“Do you know what beast?”
Will scratched his neck.
“Something strong.”
Silas waited.
Will frowned.
“What?”
“That's the whole plan?”
“Warcat. Combat Eidolon. Strong beast.”
“That seems incomplete.”
“You sound like Drakhar.”
“That may be a good sign.”
“It isn't.”
Several boys nodded solemnly.
Silas decided Gideon's reputation might require later investigation.
Will looked at him.
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Your Aether.”
Everyone else looked over too.
Silas had not intended to make it a secret.
The certificate already existed.
Academy records existed.
He had learned enough about Greyhaven to understand that information entered circulation whether invited or not.
“Perfect Innate.”
Silence.
Will blinked.
“Ten?”
“Yes.”
“At Awakening?”
“Yes.”
“With Wildvine?”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
“Yes.”
Jacob Dunn laughed once.
Then stopped when nobody else did.
Will stared.
“Show me.”
Silas held out his right hand.
Aether moved.
Wildvine emerged from his palm.
Thin green stem.
Narrow leaves.
Common enough that half the boys in the room had probably pulled its cousins from fences.
Nobody looked impressed.
That helped.
Will circled it.
“That's really it.”
“Yes.”
“Perfect Innate.”
“Yes.”
“That's ridiculous.”
“I've heard similar reviews.”
Tommy leaned closer.
“Does it do anything?”
“Grow.”
Tommy considered.
“So do weeds.”
“That has also been noted.”
Will squinted at the vine.
“When I get my Crest, I'm still beating you.”
Silas dismissed the Eidolon.
“Possibly.”
Will pointed.
“That answer is irritating.”
“Yes.”
A clear voice came from the doorway.
“Which one of you is in charge?”
Everyone turned.
A girl stood beneath the doorframe.
Small.
About Silas's height.
Maybe slightly shorter.
She wore the same dark academy jacket as the rest of them, but hers had not yet acquired the creases of use. A cloth bundle hung over one shoulder.
Her boots were cheap.
Clean.
Too clean for Greyhaven rain.
Either she had changed them recently or she knew how to walk through mud without collecting much of it.
Silas noticed because he had spent the morning failing at the second skill.
Her hair was dark brown, almost black in the poor light, pulled into a long practical braid.
Nothing ornamental.
No ribbons.
No jewelry.
Her face was open and alert.
Not shy.
She looked into a room containing twelve boys as if they were furniture she intended to inspect.
Will looked at Silas.
Every other boy did the same.
Silas disliked the efficiency of this arrangement.
The girl followed their attention.
Her eyes settled on him.
“You?”
“Apparently.”
“Good.”
She stepped inside.
“Mira Vale.”
No hesitation.
No explanation.
Silas stood.
“Silas Hale.”
Mira looked around.
“This is Dorm C?”
“Yes.”
“The sponsored junior dorm?”
“Yes.”
Her gaze moved across the beds.
“All boys?”
Will answered.
“Until five minutes ago.”
Mira looked back.
“Do they separate dorms later?”
“At eight. Younger sponsored intake shares C. Girls move to D when there's space, or earlier if a guardian asks.”
Mira nodded.
“Fine.”
That was apparently all the thought she intended to spend on the matter.
She set her bundle on the nearest empty bed.
Will stepped forward.
“Hold on.”
Mira looked at him.
“That one's eighteen.”
“Yes.”
“New students don't just pick.”
Mira glanced at the brass number.
“Then who picks?”
Will pointed to Silas.
“Lead.”
Silas looked at him.
Will ignored the warning.
Mira turned.
“You assign beds?”
“No.”
Will said, “He does now.”
Silas said, “I don't.”
Mira looked between them.
“This seems organized.”
“It isn't,” Silas said.
“I noticed.”
Her eyes moved to bed eighteen again.
“Can I use it?”
Silas looked at Will.
Will shrugged.
“No one has it.”
Silas looked back.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Mira put her bundle down.
Then Will cleared his throat.
Silas knew that sound already.
It meant the conversation was about to become less efficient.
“Mira.”
“Yes?”
“Dorm rule.”
She waited.
Will pointed to Silas.
“New sponsored students test the lead.”
Silas closed his eyes.
Yesterday he had disliked the rule.
Today he disliked it more.
Mira's face brightened.
“Oh.”
Not fear.
Not reluctance.
Interest.
Silas opened his eyes.
Mira was already removing her jacket.
“No.”
She paused.
“No?”
“I don't need to fight you.”
Will said, “Rule.”
Silas looked at him.
Will became suddenly fascinated by the stove.
Mira folded her jacket and placed it on the bed.
“Why don't you need to?”
“Because the point is to determine whether I can protect the dorm.”
“So?”
“Beating you wouldn't prove that.”
Mira considered.
“Losing to me would prove something.”
The room made a collective sound.
Silas stared at her.
Mira smiled.
Not sweetly.
Happily.
That was worse.
“You've been here three minutes.”
“Long enough.”
“Do you fight everyone you meet?”
“No.”
A beat.
“Only when there's a rule.”
Will covered his mouth.
Silas looked at him.
Will turned away.
Traitor.
Mira stepped into the aisle between the beds.
“Come on.”
Silas remained where he was.
Mira tilted her head.
“What?”
“You don't even know my Eidolon.”
“Do I need to?”
“Usually.”
“Then tell me.”
“Wildvine.”
She blinked.
“That all?”
“Apparently.”
“Mine's a Moon Hare.”
The room reacted.
Not strongly.
A few boys exchanged looks.
Animal Eidolon.
Likely physical.
Silas studied her build again.
Light.
Narrow shoulders.
No obvious strength.
That meant very little.
“How much Aether?”
Mira's eyes narrowed playfully.
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“Yes.”
“You can ask after.”
Then she moved.
No warning.
Silas had expected speed.
He had not expected that much.
Her first step barely made sound against the old floorboards.
Her right foot rose toward his chest.
Not a heavy kick.
Fast.
Testing distance.
Silas shifted left.
His hand went toward her ankle.
Falcon Grasp began with control.
Wrist.
Ankle.
Joint.
Anything that gave structure.
His fingers closed.
For less than half a second.
Then Mira's leg rotated inside his grip.
Not yanked.
Rotated.
Her heel turned downward while her knee opened at an angle Silas had not accounted for.
His hold slipped from ankle to boot.
She used the contact rather than escaping it.
Her other foot left the floor.
That was wrong.
Silas had time to think it.
Then her free leg hooked behind his shoulder.
Her hands touched the bedframe beside them.
Not for support.
For leverage.
Mira folded around the point where he thought he had controlled her.
Silas changed grip.
Too late.
Her body did not move like a person resisting a throw.
It moved like rope under tension.
Flexible until the instant it wasn't.
Her first leg came free.
Both knees tightened around his upper arm and shoulder.
She turned her hips.
Silas felt his balance leave.
Interesting.
He stepped to recover.
The floorboard beneath his heel was worn smooth from years of feet.
Not enough friction.
Mira felt it too.
Of course she did.
She changed direction immediately.
Silas had one option that would stop the throw cleanly.
Strike.
Palm to ribs.
Short distance.
Enough force.
He did not take it.
This was a five-year-old girl in a dormitory.
Not an enemy.
That decision cost him.
Mira pulled.
Silas went over.
He twisted before landing.
Shoulder first.
Then back.
The floor hit harder than expected.
A moment later Mira was kneeling beside him with one hand controlling his wrist and the other braced near his shoulder.
No Crest.
No visible Eidolon.
Just technique.
The dormitory went silent.
Silas tested the position.
He could break it.
Probably.
Blackthorn gave him two immediate answers.
One involved fingers.
The other involved Mira's elbow.
Neither belonged in a friendly test.
He relaxed.
“I yield.”
Mira released him at once.
No gloating.
She stood and offered a hand.
Silas looked at it.
Then took it.
She pulled him up.
“You're heavy.”
“You threw me.”
“Still heavy.”
Silas brushed dust from his shirt.
Will's mouth hung open.
Silas looked at him.
“Close it.”
Will did.
Then opened it again.
“What was that?”
Mira looked pleased.
“Grappling.”
“That isn't normal grappling.”
“Works normally.”
Silas rotated his shoulder.
Nothing damaged.
She had controlled the fall.
Deliberately.
That mattered.
“What do you call it?” he asked.
Mira thought.
“Softform.”
“Who taught you?”
The smile remained.
The answer did not come.
“My family.”
Too quick.
Silas noticed.
He did not press.
Mira looked at him instead.
“You could've hit me.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you?”
“It was a dorm test.”
“So?”
“So I don't injure people to keep a bed.”
Mira studied him.
Then nodded.
As if he had passed something too.
Will finally recovered.
“Well.”
Everyone looked at him.
He looked at Mira.
Then at Silas.
Then at the others.
“Rule's rule.”
Mira raised an eyebrow.
“What rule?”
“You beat the lead.”
“And?”
Will pointed at her.
“Now you're lead.”
Mira stared.
Silas experienced a brief, shameful amount of satisfaction.
Her expression matched how he had felt yesterday.
“No.”
Will smiled.
Silas liked him more.
“Rule.”
“I just got here.”
“So did he.”
Mira pointed at Silas.
“He can keep doing it.”
“Lost.”
“I don't want it.”
“Neither did he.”
Silas nodded.
“True.”
Mira looked betrayed.
“You're helping him?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because this is funny.”
Will laughed so hard he had to sit down.
Mira stared at both of them.
Then something in her face changed.
She smiled.
“All right.”
Will stopped laughing.
“What?”
“I said all right.”
“You'll do it?”
“Sure.”
That had been too easy.
Silas recognized danger.
Mira put her hands on her hips.
“If I'm lead, first rule.”
Will's smile disappeared.
“No one calls me boss.”
Silas looked at Will.
Will looked at him.
Mira continued.
“It sounds old.”
Tommy asked, “What do we call you?”
“My name.”
“That isn't how—”
“First rule.”
Tommy nodded immediately.
Will sighed.
“Mira.”
“Good.”
She looked around.
“Second rule.”
Will muttered, “Already?”
“If somebody takes one of ours, we take them back.”
Silas focused.
“One of ours?”
“Boots. Food. Books. Whatever.”
Reasonable.
“If they hit one of ours,” Mira added, “we hit them back harder.”
Less reasonable.
Silas said, “No.”
Everyone turned.
Mira looked at him.
“I won.”
“Yes.”
“So I'm lead.”
“Yes.”
“So my rule.”
“No.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
“Because proportional response matters.”
Will whispered, “There he goes.”
Silas ignored him.
“If someone bumps Tommy in a hall and you break their nose, the academy punishes us.”
“I didn't say break their nose.”
“You said harder.”
“Harder can mean slightly harder.”
“That is not how you said it.”
Mira considered.
“Fine.”
Silas waited.
“If they deliberately hurt one of ours, we make sure they regret it.”
Silas thought.
“Within reason.”
Mira sighed.
“You're going to be difficult.”
“Yes.”
She smiled.
“Good.”
That was not the response he expected.
Mira chose bed fifteen.
Beside Silas.
Not because of him, she said.
Because the window opened.
Silas did not point out that bed sixteen was also near the window.
Some arguments had poor returns.
Will began explaining academy life.
Morning classes.
Afternoon work for sponsored students.
Reading.
Arithmetic.
Imperial history.
Eidolon fundamentals.
Practical control.
The older sponsored students worked maintenance assignments after lessons to reduce board costs.
Sweeping.
Kitchen prep.
Stable work.
Laundry.
Garden.
Fuel.
Anything the academy could make children do safely enough to avoid hiring another adult.
Silas respected the model.
Mira did not.
“You mean I came to school so they could make me sweep?”
“You came because you don't pay full tuition,” Will said.
“I can sweep at home for free.”
“Then you'd still be at home.”
Mira opened her mouth.
Stopped.
“Fine.”
Will grinned.
“See?”
She looked at him.
The grin vanished.
Silas almost smiled.
Will then introduced everyone's Eidolon and Aether again because Mira had missed it.
When he reached himself, he stood a little straighter.
“Warcat. Level Nine.”
Mira looked interested.
“Almost threshold.”
“Yes.”
“Then you'll hunt soon.”
Will blinked.
“You know that?”
Mira's gaze shifted.
For the first time since entering the dorm, she looked almost cautious.
“Everybody knows that.”
Silas watched.
Maybe.
Will accepted it.
“Soon as I hit ten.”
“What beast?”
Mira asked.
Will shrugged.
“Something strong.”
Mira made a face.
Silas liked her slightly more.
“What?”
Will asked.
“That's stupid.”
Will stared.
Silas decided he liked her considerably more.
“Thank you,” he said.
Mira looked over.
“For what?”
“I said something similar.”
Will pointed between them.
“No.”
Neither listened.
Mira looked at Will.
“If you put the wrong thing into your Eidolon, being strong won't help.”
Will frowned.
“You've got a Crest?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know?”
Mira shrugged.
Again, too quick.
“Seems obvious.”
Silas stored that.
Not proof of anything.
Just unusual.
Will moved on.
When he reached Silas:
“Wildvine. Perfect Innate.”
Mira's head turned.
“Perfect?”
“Yes,” Silas said.
She studied him.
Not shocked.
That was new.
Everyone else reacted to the number.
Ward.
Jack.
The Concord clerk.
Academy staff.
Will.
Mira only looked thoughtful.
“You felt stronger than you look.”
Will choked.
Silas frowned.
“You sensed it?”
“In the fight.”
“How?”
Mira shrugged.
“Your balance.”
That did not answer the question.
She turned away before he could ask again.
Interesting.
A knock sounded at the open door.
A dorm supervisor stood outside carrying a rolled mattress pad and a folded wool quilt.
She was perhaps forty, broad-faced, gray beginning at both temples. A ring of keys hung at her belt.
“Silas Hale?”
Silas stepped forward.
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Gideon Drakhar sent these.”
The room became quiet.
The supervisor held out the bundle.
Silas took it.
Heavier than expected.
New wool.
Not fine.
Good.
The mattress pad was stuffed evenly enough that it had not come from academy general stores.
“Teacher sent this?”
“He paid stores for it.”
That distinction mattered.
“Why?”
The woman looked at him as though the answer should be obvious.
“Because he thought you needed bedding.”
Silas looked toward his bed.
The academy had issued him one winter blanket.
It covered the mattress.
Technically.
Calling it warm required optimism.
“Thank you.”
“Thank him.”
“I will.”
She produced a folded work slip.
“Vale.”
Mira stepped forward.
“Hale.”
Silas was already there.
“You two are this term's new sponsored intake. Starting the day after tomorrow, south court and herb walk.”
Mira frowned.
“What do we do?”
“Sweep paths. Pull ordinary weeds. Collect fallen branches. Sort refuse. Do not pull anything marked with a blue stake.”
“Why?”
“Medicinal beds.”
Mira immediately looked more interested.
“What grows there?”
The supervisor looked at her.
“You'll learn in class.”
Mira seemed disappointed.
The woman continued.
“Morning work only on rest days. On class days, one hour after afternoon lessons. Eight coppers each per completed shift.”
Silas calculated.
Not much.
Enough to matter.
“Meals?”
“Evening meal included on completed workdays. Morning porridge covered by sponsorship. Midday is subsidized, not free.”
Mira frowned harder.
“Food costs money here too?”
The supervisor stared.
“Yes.”
Mira looked genuinely offended.
Silas found this notable.
The supervisor continued before Mira could challenge economics.
“Opening assembly tomorrow. No regular work. Classes begin the following day.”
She pointed toward the slip.
“If the herb walk is not clean when inspected, pay is reduced. If either of you skips without authorization, both lose that day's meal credit.”
Silas looked up.
“Both?”
“You're a pair assignment.”
“That creates incentive to police each other.”
The supervisor blinked.
“Yes.”
“Effective.”
Mira looked at him.
“You say strange things.”
“I've been told.”
The supervisor left.
Silas set the bedding on his bed.
Mira stared at it.
Silas noticed.
Then pretended not to.
She looked at her own bed.
Straw mattress.
No blanket.
Only the cloth bundle she had brought.
She opened it.
Two shirts.
One spare pair of trousers.
A brush.
A small cloth pouch.
No bedding.
Will noticed too.
“We can find you something.”
Mira looked around.
Several boys had already begun evaluating their own blankets.
Tommy lifted his.
A hole near the foot allowed light through.
Mira said, “No.”
“We've got extras.”
“You've got scraps.”
Tommy looked offended.
“That's my good one.”
“Sorry.”
He looked at the hole.
“Fair.”
Mira turned back to Silas's new quilt.
Silas already knew what was coming.
“No.”
She looked at him.
“I didn't say anything.”
“You were going to.”
“You don't know that.”
“You looked at the quilt for nine seconds.”
Will laughed.
Mira pointed at Silas.
“You count too much.”
“Yes.”
She looked at the bed.
Then hers.
They stood side by side.
Narrow iron frames.
Five inches apart.
The new quilt was sized for an adult.
Large enough.
Mira brightened.
“We push the beds together.”
Silas stared.
Will made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh being strangled.
Mira continued.
“Your quilt covers both.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because it's mine.”
That sounded worse aloud than intended.
Mira folded her arms.
“Fine.”
Silas looked at her bedding.
Or lack of it.
Rain moved against the window.
Greyhaven nights had already gone cold.
He sighed.
Mira smiled immediately.
“I didn't agree.”
“You sighed.”
“That is not legally binding.”
“Close enough.”
Will turned away, shoulders shaking.
Silas considered hitting him.
Instead he pulled bed fourteen two inches toward fifteen.
Mira grabbed hers and dragged it the rest of the way.
The iron legs scraped loudly across the floor.
Everyone winced.
Mira ignored them.
When the beds touched, she unrolled Silas's new mattress pad.
It was wide enough to bridge most of both narrow mattresses if turned crosswise.
Not ideal.
Functional.
Then she unfolded the quilt.
Plenty.
“There.”
Silas looked at the merged beds.
“This is absurd.”
“We're five.”
“That doesn't make furniture wider.”
Mira took her cloth bundle and placed it lengthwise between the two pillows.
“Boundary.”
Silas looked at it.
“Your shirts are the border?”
“Yes.”
“What if they move?”
“I move them back.”
“What if you move?”
She smiled.
“Then you wake me up.”
Silas considered several responses.
None improved the situation.
Mira climbed onto her half experimentally.
The mattress creaked.
She nodded.
“Works.”
Silas looked at Gideon's quilt.
A gift from his new teacher.
He had wanted to keep it in good condition.
Then he looked at Tommy's hole.
At Will's patched bedding.
At Mira's empty bed.
Tools existed to be used.
Blankets too.
“Fine.”
Mira grinned.
“Good.”
“One condition.”
“What?”
“You stay on your side.”
“I made the boundary.”
“That is not agreement.”
“Fine. I stay on my side.”
A pause.
“Unless you're stealing the quilt.”
“I don't steal blankets.”
“Good.”
She hopped off.
Problem solved.
Apparently.
Silas suspected Mira solved many problems by moving before anyone finished objecting.
That could become dangerous.
Lunch made Mira happy for fourteen seconds.
Then she learned the price.
The sponsored group crossed the academy yard together.
The rain had stopped.
Stone paths shone under a pale sky. Water dripped from the eaves. The central bell tower marked noon with twelve slow strikes.
The dining hall occupied the lower floor of the main building.
Warmth hit Silas when the doors opened.
Then smell.
Beans.
Roast onions.
Bread.
Sausage.
Rendered fat.
Apple.
For a boy raised on whatever could be cooked in one blackened pot beside Garrick's forge, the room remained impressive.
Two levels.
The lower floor held long communal tables and serving windows.
The upper gallery had smaller tables, white cloth, and a board listing dishes by price.
Silas had noticed the class difference yesterday.
Today it became explicit.
Will pointed.
“Cheap line.”
Ground floor.
“Expensive line.”
Upper floor.
Mira looked up.
“Why?”
“Upstairs you order what you want.”
“And down here?”
“You order what you can afford.”
Mira considered.
“That's less fun.”
“That's poverty.”
She looked at him.
Will shrugged.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
They joined the lower line.
A chalkboard listed:
BEAN STEW — 1 COPPER
BREAD & CHEESE — 1 COPPER
SAUSAGE PLATE — 3 COPPER
APPLE TART — 2 COPPER
Mira stared.
She reached into her pouch.
Counted.
Silas watched her face.
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“That wasn't a number.”
She glared.
He recognized the expression.
Apparently Garrick's methods existed elsewhere.
Will leaned toward her.
“I'll cover today.”
Mira looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because you don't get paid until work starts.”
“What about tomorrow?”
“Opening meal allowance.”
“And the next day?”
“You work.”
Mira considered.
“All right.”
No false pride.
Good.
Will looked at Silas.
“You too.”
“I have money.”
“Village gave you some?”
“My father.”
Will seemed surprised.
“Thought he was a smith.”
“He is.”
“Smiths have money?”
“Not after sending children to school.”
Will nodded as if that made sense.
A voice drifted down from the staircase.
“Well. The patch coats are multiplying.”
Will's shoulders tightened.
Silas turned.
Four older students stood halfway up the stairs.
Full-fee uniforms.
Cleaner cloth.
Silver academy badges rather than dark sponsored patches.
The oldest looked about eleven.
Maybe twelve.
His hair had been cut recently.
His boots cost more than Silas's entire travel bag.
He smiled down at them.
“Carter.”
Will said nothing.
The older boy's gaze moved across the group.
Then stopped on Mira.
“New one?”
Mira looked up.
“Yes.”
The boy smiled.
“Shame.”
Mira frowned.
“About what?”
“The coat.”
He tapped his own silver badge.
“You might've looked respectable in another one.”
Will muttered, “Leave it.”
Mira looked at him.
Then back upstairs.
“What does your badge do?”
The older boy blinked.
“What?”
“Does it make you smarter?”
A boy beside him snorted.
The oldest one's smile thinned.
“No.”
“Stronger?”
“No.”
“Then I don't see why I'd want it.”
Silas saw the moment the exchange stopped being funny to the boy upstairs.
Mira did too.
And smiled.
Danger.
The older student rested one hand on the rail.
“Sponsored brats should remember where they eat.”
Mira stepped toward the stairs.
Silas caught the back of her jacket.
She stopped.
Slowly looked over her shoulder.
“Let go.”
“We came for lunch.”
“He started it.”
“Yes.”
“So?”
“So lunch is getting cold.”
Mira stared.
“You're scared?”
“No.”
“Then why—”
“Because if you fight him here, they'll throw us out of the dining hall before we eat.”
Mira paused.
That argument reached her.
Silas continued quietly.
“Eat first. Make enemies after.”
Her eyes brightened.
“That wasn't permission.”
“I know.”
The older boy laughed.
Mira turned sharply.
Silas tightened his grip.
She looked back at him.
He shook his head.
For a second he expected her to pull free.
Then she exhaled.
“Fine.”
She returned to the line.
Will stared at Silas.
“What?”
“You stopped her.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I mentioned food.”
Mira pointed without turning.
“I heard that.”
Silas released her jacket.
“Good.”
The older boys went upstairs.
The moment passed.
Not resolved.
Delayed.
Silas preferred delayed problems.
They could be measured.
Gideon entered while Silas was paying for stew.
He crossed the hall alone, dark coat buttoned high, carrying a book beneath one arm.
People noticed him.
Not the way they noticed a powerful Bearer.
The reaction was smaller.
Whispers.
Averted eyes.
One instructor nodded politely without warmth.
Gideon ignored all of it.
His gaze found Silas.
Then the sponsored group.
Then Mira.
He paused on her for less than a second.
Long enough for Silas to notice.
“Silas.”
“Yes, Teacher.”
The word changed nearby conversations.
Will looked down at his tray.
Mira looked interested.
Gideon said, “Come upstairs.”
Silas glanced at the second-floor tables.
“No.”
Will nearly dropped his bowl.
Gideon raised one eyebrow.
“Explain.”
“I'm eating with the dorm.”
“Are you?”
Silas looked down.
He had not yet bought the stew.
“I'm about to.”
Gideon's mouth shifted.
Possibly annoyance.
Possibly approval.
Difficult man.
“Afterward,” Gideon said. “Wait by the west doors.”
“Yes.”
Gideon turned toward the stairs.
Mira leaned closer.
“That's your teacher?”
“Yes.”
“He looks unhappy.”
“He often looks like that.”
“Is he?”
“I don't know.”
“Bad sign.”
Will spoke before Silas could answer.
“You really picked Drakhar?”
Silas looked at him.
“Yes.”
Will lowered his voice.
“My brother says he's barely a Bearer.”
Silas's expression changed before he chose it.
Will noticed.
So did Mira.
Silas set his coin on the serving counter.
“Say what you mean.”
Will shifted.
“He's Level Twenty-Nine.”
“I know.”
“Has been forever.”
Silas said nothing.
Will mistook that for permission.
“He's not even regular faculty. People say he only stays because he knows the headmaster. Writes theories. Tells stronger people they built their Crests wrong. My brother says—”
“Don't.”
Will stopped.
The dining hall continued around them.
Plates.
Voices.
Footsteps overhead.
Silas kept his voice quiet.
“You can disagree with him.”
Will blinked.
“You can say his theory is wrong.”
A pause.
“You can prove it.”
Will's face tightened.
“But don't call him useless because his level stopped.”
“I didn't say useless.”
“You were getting there.”
Will looked away.
Silas continued.
“He took responsibility for teaching me. I accepted it.”
That was enough.
No threat.
No speech.
Obligation.
Will looked back.
Silas said, “Don't do it again.”
Mira watched both of them.
Something thoughtful entered her face.
Will rubbed the back of his neck.
“All right.”
Silas nodded.
The matter ended.
At least for him.
He picked up his bowl.
Mira said, “You get strange about people.”
Silas looked at her.
“How?”
“You were calm when that boy upstairs insulted all of us.”
“Yes.”
“Will says one thing about your teacher and suddenly you sound like you're about to throw him through a wall.”
Will looked alarmed.
Silas considered.
“I wasn't.”
“Sounded like it.”
Will nodded.
Silas looked at him.
Will stopped nodding.
Silas sat.
Mira sat opposite.
She tasted the bean stew.
Her eyes widened.
“This is good.”
Will stared.
“It is beans.”
“Hot beans.”
“Yes.”
“With pork.”
“A little.”
Mira ate another spoonful.
“Good.”
Silas understood.
Stable food available for money.
Still novel to him too.
For the next several minutes, nobody discussed teachers.
That was probably wise.
Mira finished first.
Then helped Tommy finish his apple tart.
Tommy had not requested assistance.
This became a dispute.
Silas left before it developed into litigation.
He waited beside the west doors.
Gideon arrived nine minutes later.
“You ate?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Bean stew.”
“Enough?”
“Yes.”
Gideon looked at him.
Silas looked back.
“No.”
“That answer improved.”
Gideon handed him a wrapped parcel.
Warm.
Silas opened one corner.
Bread.
Roast chicken.
Cheese.
He looked up.
“You already fed me yesterday.”
“Today is not yesterday.”
“I ate lunch.”
“You ate beans.”
“There was pork.”
“Traces are not portions.”
Silas took the parcel.
Argument seemed inefficient.
“Thank you.”
Gideon began walking.
Silas followed.
They crossed the main building and climbed two flights to the older faculty apartments.
Gideon's room was in the corner.
Smaller than the study he used below.
Cleaner.
Two shelves of books.
One narrow bed.
Desk.
Washstand.
No decoration.
Silas understood immediately.
The man lived here as if expecting to leave.
Gideon pointed to the chair.
“Eat.”
Silas sat.
He ate.
Gideon arranged papers.
The chicken was better than academy stew.
Silas did not mention this because it might encourage expensive habits.
When he finished, Gideon poured water.
Then sat opposite.
“Tomorrow morning, we leave Greyhaven.”
Silas went still.
“For what?”
“You know.”
His pulse accelerated anyway.
“First Crest.”
“Yes.”
The word filled the room.
Crest.
External catalyst.
Permanent integration.
The thing that might unlock the wall inside his Blackthorn cultivation.
The thing that would permanently shape Wildvine.
“How soon?”
“Dawn.”
“The opening assembly.”
“Not useful enough to delay you.”
“You can excuse me?”
“I already did.”
Power through paperwork.
Silas approved.
“Where?”
“The nearest licensed hunting preserve with a viable low-tier population is east of Greyhaven.”
“Which beast?”
“Undecided.”
Silas frowned.
Gideon noticed.
“Good.”
“You keep saying that when I dislike something.”
“Discomfort often indicates you have discovered a missing piece.”
Silas leaned forward.
“What are the candidates?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Why not now?”
“Because before species, we decide function.”
Silas stopped.
Gideon took out a blank sheet.
At the top he wrote:
WILDVINE
Nothing beneath it.
“What do you think of your Eidolon?”
Silas looked at the word.
Outside the window, late light lay across Greyhaven's roofs.
Somewhere below, the academy bell rang.
Wildvine.
Common.
Persistent.
Almost impossible to kill.
Ignored.
His right palm remembered the cool green stem.
His left remembered a weight nobody in Greyhaven was supposed to know existed.
Teacher knew there was an absence in the record.
Not the shape.
Not the name.
Enough.
Silas answered carefully.
“Everyone says Wildvine is worthless.”
Gideon waited.
Silas continued.
“I don't think that tells me much.”
“Why?”
“Because common isn't the same as useless.”
Gideon's eyes sharpened.
Silas looked at the empty page.
“Anything that survives as well as Wildvine has traits.”
“Such as?”
“I don't know yet.”
A small pause.
Then Gideon nodded.
“Good.”
This time Silas understood why.
Gideon turned the paper toward himself.
“Then tomorrow we begin by asking the right question.”
Silas looked at the single word on the page.
Wildvine.
Not a verdict.
A starting material.
For the second time in two days, Greyhaven had given him a problem worth solving.
This one could change the rest of his life.