Ryn stepped forward.
"Look! That guy started it!"
"I said silence."
"But he threw the first spell!"
The faculty member rounded on him, visibly annoyed.
"And you think that justifies his escalation?"
Ryn looked ready to bite the faculty member with his own teeth.
"It justifies not standing there and taking it!"
The faculty member turned back toward me, clearly deciding I was the easier problem.
"You are here because the Academy permits your presence," he said coldly. "Do not mistake that for equality. You do not humiliate the nobility simply because you are clever enough to imitate refinement."
The corridor tightened around those words.
Some students looked away.
Some didn't.
I felt Ryn's anger like a second heat source beside me.
And I knew, with perfect clarity, that arguing would do nothing.
So I said nothing.
The faculty member took my silence as compliance.
He drew breath to continue—
But another voice cut across the corridor, bright, youthful, and so effortlessly confident it made the faculty member's authority look like poor staging.
"There's nothing wrong with what Kael did."
Heads turned.
There he was.
Taron Caelvarin.
Leaning against one of the corridor pillars like he'd been there the whole time, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other lifting in a casual wave that somehow felt more dangerous than a threat.
He pushed off the pillar and loitered forward with that natural ease of his, sunlight catching on the silver trim of his uniform.
The faculty member stiffened immediately.
"Lord Caelvarin."
Taron smiled.
"That's me."
The faculty member's jaw set. "This is a disciplinary matter."
"Doesn't look like one," Taron said cheerfully. "Looks like a bad spell got corrected and someone's pride couldn't handle the criticism."
A few students at the edges of the crowd made very dangerous sounds of suppressed laughter.
The noble who had cast Ember Serpent looked like he wanted the floor to open and swallow him whole.
The faculty member's expression hardened.
"You are not involved in this matter."
Taron tilted his head.
"I mean, I am now."
That smile never left his face.
"And from where I'm standing, Kael didn't do anything worth punishing. Unless we're now disciplining commoners for being better at Aether control than nobles with family money and bad technique."
'Oof.'
That one landed. Hard.
The faculty member's eyes flicked around the watching students and clearly calculated the social risk of pushing this issue further.
Taron's expression stayed light.
Then, just a touch cooler, he added:
"Because if so, I'd love to get the thoughts of my House on this issue."
The corridor went still.
Enough to remind everyone present that Taron Caelvarin was not merely a talented first-year with a talent for smiling through trouble. He was an heir of one of the Ten Great Houses.
And the faculty member, for all his authority, had no interest in being involved with one of the Ten Great Houses for a petty dispute like this.
His expression locked down into something sharp and unpleasant.
"Ahem. There's no need to do that. This matter is dismissed," he said. "All of you. Move. Now."
The students began breaking apart immediately, disappointment and excitement mixing as the crowd dissolved into muttering clusters. The minor noble who had started the whole thing fled with the rest of his group without looking at anyone.
'Heh. What a coward.'
I couldn't help but notice Ryn watch him go, murder in his eyes.
The faculty member gave me one last hard look, then turned and left without another word.
Ryn waited until he was out of earshot.
"That was complete and utter nonsense."
"Yes, it was."
"That was actually ridiculous."
"Yup."
"That man was one bad day away from expelling us for no reason."
"You never know, that could still happen. There's plenty of time left."
Ryn dragged a hand through his hair, still visibly furious.
"I hate this place."
"No, you don't."
"I hate most of this place."
"That sounds more accurate."
Taron, meanwhile, looked delighted.
He turned toward me, his grin easy again, as if he hadn't just casually threatened a faculty member with aristocratic consequences.
"You alright?"
I nodded once.
"Yes."
Ryn looked between us with narrowed eyes.
I ignored that for the moment and said, "Thank you."
Taron waved a hand.
"Don't mention it."
He glanced down the hall toward where the crowd had dissolved, then back at me.
"Though for the record," he added, "that serpent was absurd."
I held his gaze evenly.
"It was efficient."
Taron barked out a laugh.
"Haha, you really do talk like that."
"Yes."
"Not bad. I like it."
Ryn looked even more suspicious now.
Taron noticed, and his grin sharpened slightly with amusement.
Then he rocked back on his heels.
"Anyway," he said, "I've got to rush somewhere before class. Try not to terrify any more nobles before then. You'll run out of them."
"That doesn't seem statistically likely," I replied.
Taron pointed at me as if that was exactly the answer he'd been hoping for.
Then he turned and walked off down the corridor, hands in his pockets, bright as ever, like he hadn't just stepped into a social knife-fight for the fun of it.
Ryn watched him go in silence.
Then muttered, "Yeah... I don't trust that."
I glanced at him.
"Who? Taron?"
"Yes, Taron."
"Why?"
Ryn folded his arms and frowned down the corridor.
"Because no noble just does that."
"Do what??"
"Intervene. Especially for people like us," he corrected. " Especially an heir from one of the Ten Great Houses. Not unless they want something."
"That is some theory."
"It's a correct one."
I would be lying if I said I didn't consider that. Ryn wasn't entirely wrong, but neither was he entirely right.
Maybe Taron wanted something. Maybe he wanted entertainment. Maybe he wanted novelty. Maybe he wanted to irritate the faculty just because the opportunity existed.
Or maybe— no. It was too early to call.
I adjusted my backpack.
"We're going to be late."
Ryn looked at me like he'd momentarily forgotten the existence of class itself.
"Oh, Right."
We started walking again, the corridor thinning now that the spectacle had ended. Students still glanced our way, some openly, some pretending not to. I could feel it already. A change.
News of what happened today would spread.
By evening, half the first-year cohort would have some distorted version of the story.
And by tomorrow, I'd be on more people's radar than before.
The one who embarrassed a noble in the hallway.
The one with the frighteningly precise fire Aether.
The one Taron Caelvarin publicly defended.
'Unfortunate or useful. Only time will tell.'
Ryn shoved his hands into his pockets and kicked at the polished floor once, lightly.
"You know," he said, "for a second there, I really thought you were about to burn all his hair off."
"That would have been a bit excessive."
"I still think it would've improved him."
"That is probably true."
Ryn snorted.
Then, after a beat, his tone shifted, lighter on the surface, but careful beneath it.
"I gotta admit though. That spell was cool."
I looked at him.
"The Phoenix Serpent you whipped out."
He didn't quite meet my eyes.
"That was… really cool."
There was no irony in it.
Just honesty.
I looked forward again.
"Yes," I said. "It was."
Ryn glanced sidelong at me, suspicious already.
"You're being weirdly calm about that."
"That's because I am trying not to think about how much it hurt."
That got his attention instantly.
"…What are you talking about?"
I kept walking.
"The amount of Aether I needed exceeded what I can currently sustain safely. So, I just cast its structure without actually giving it a direction."
Ryn stared.
"So you did all that as a bluff?"
I glanced at him once.
"Yup."
He stopped walking.
Actually stopped.
Then looked at me with something close to offended admiration.
"That," he said, "is up there for one of the stupidest and coolest things you've ever done."
"I'm going to choose only to remember the second half."
"You shouldn't."
He caught up quickly, still shaking his head.
The corridor opened into another junction ahead, where the Academy split students toward their afternoon electives and specialised lectures. The floors glowed under the filtered light. Voices carried. Somewhere far above, bells marked the next academic interval with soft, elegant indifference.
I could feel the Academy closing around us again.
Socially.
It had seen something today.
And now it would remember.
I looked ahead toward the turn that would take us to our next class.
"Um. Ryn."
"Yeah?"
"You should still choose your electives."
He stared at me.
"Oh, for fuck sake! Why did you have to remind me?"
"Because it remains relevant."
"We were almost killed by social injustice a few minutes ago."
"We weren't. So now you still get to pick your electives."
Ryn made a face of pure betrayal.
Then, despite everything, he laughed.
And I found that I did too, quietly, as we walked deeper into the Academy and let the eyes on us follow.