"Why are you pouting?"
"I'm not pouting."
Ryn was pouting.
Quite aggressively, I might add.
He folded his arms across his chest; his lips pressed into a thin line. Every few seconds, his eyes would drift toward Taron and me before immediately returning to his breakfast.
'If that's not pouting, then I don't know what is.'
To be fair, maybe I just don't fundamentally understand facial expressions.
Luckily, Taron agreed with me.
"Honestly, Ryn," he said, waving one of his breakfast skewers around like a conductor's baton, "I don't think Professor Anlor would notice if you decided to sneak into our assignment trip."
"He will," I said.
Taron glanced at me.
"You could've at least let me finish convincing him."
"I'm trying to prevent Ryn from receiving disciplinary action."
"You're limiting his freedom."
"I'm protecting him from himself."
Ryn's glare shifted toward me.
"YOU KNOW, I can hear both of you."
Randel, who was sitting opposite me, nervously pushed a piece of flatbread around his plate.
"Don't worry, Ryn, I'm sure there'll be other opportunities to take part in a field trip."
"Freaking hell! I'm not worried!"
Randel flinched, and Ryn noticed, which made him drop his shoulders.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to shout."
"It's okay," Randel said cautiously.
"Yeah, don't worry, Ryn! You know I don't mind a bit of attention!" Taron said cheekily.
"I didn't apologise to you, you idiot!"
Ryn let out a deep breath and finally unfolded his arms.
"I just don't understand why the Academy thought it would be a good idea to have this assignment trip, or whatever it is, so close to the all-important Island Exam."
'Ryn would hate how university module assessments were scheduled back in my old world.'
Nothing quite like discovering that three separate professors had independently decided their assessments were the only things students could possibly have going on that week.
Honestly, compared to that, Aetherion was almost merciful.
The key word being almost. It was still hell disguised as education.
The four of us were sitting together in one of the main cafeteria halls, eating breakfast a couple of hours before Taron and I were expected at the Academy entrance for the ABT assignment.
The morning sunlight spilt through the enormous windows to our left, catching the polished stone floors and turning the silver lining around the walls into a glistening white. The cafeteria had already reached its usual morning chaos. There were hundreds of students who filled the tables; most were talking or eating, some were trading notes and arguing over rankings. Some even tried to finish homework they clearly should've finished the night before.
Somewhere nearby, a student slept face-first beside an untouched bowl of porridge.
Apparently they were a fourth-year.
'I get it, brother. I get it.'
Surprisingly, our table was relatively peaceful, which felt strange when I thought about it.
Ryn sat beside me, Taron sat opposite him, and Randel sat beside Taron.
Four people who, not that long ago, would've most likely never chosen to be in the same vicinity as each other.
I mean, Ryn and I arrived at Aetherion together; we were both commoners from the Basin, and both of us were not entirely sure what we were getting into.
Randel had started as someone I barely knew beyond his anxiousness and the fact that he always seemed one loud noise away from apologising to the nearest person.
And Taron...
I looked across the table. He was trying to remove a mushroom from his meat skewer using only his teeth.
Well, Taron was Taron.
Somehow, after entrance exams, classes, training sessions, ranking stress, Maze incidents, Darius reminding everyone he was an unpleasant asshole, and Professor Anlor developing an apparent hobby of making my life difficult, the four of us had become...
Something.
I didn't want to label it. Not yet.
Although it was becoming increasingly difficult to pretend I did not know what the word was.
I found it particularly funny when I remembered how Ryn had reacted when Taron first started approaching us.
He had treated him like an enemy spy.
To be fair, Ryn treated most nobles like enemy spies.
But with Taron, it had been especially obvious.
Now the two of them had reached a stage where Ryn complained about Taron's jokes while simultaneously saving him a seat whenever we ate.
'At least it's progress.'
Taron had chosen breakfast skewers: alternating pieces of grilled meat, mushrooms, bright peppers, and small roasted potatoes, still steaming faintly from the kitchen. They were common among physically focused students because they were easy to eat, protein-heavy, and apparently designed for people who believed forks were an inefficient obstacle between themselves and the breakfast they were consuming.
Ryn had smoked riverfish on toast.
They had salted the fish heavily and flaked it over thick slices of dark bread, with herbs and a little melted butter underneath. Riverfish seemed particularly common in Valoria, unsurprisingly, considering the amount of rivers that cut through the capital and surrounding valleys.
'Practical.'
Salty and protein-heavy. Exactly the sort of food Ryn would choose while claiming not to care about nutrition.
Then there was Randel...
I looked at his side of the table.
Two stuffed flatbreads.
A bowl of honeyed grain porridge.
And what looked like another half-finished flatbread, partially hidden beneath a napkin.
The flatbreads were filled with egg, cheese, minced meat, and vegetables, folded into thick pockets you could eat by hand. The porridge beside them was dense and oat-like, mixed with cream, dried berries, crushed nuts, and spiced honey.
I stared at Randel.
Then at his food.
Then back at Randel.
He was thin.
But certainly not unhealthy.
He was just naturally narrow-framed, the type of person who looked like he would ask a strong wind to politely not push him over.
'Where does all that food go?'
Randel stopped chewing for a second.
His eyes slowly moved toward me.
"Why are you looking at me? Is there something on my face?"
I instantly looked away.
"No reason."
"... Okay."
Taron glanced between us.
"KAEL ARIN. Were you just judging Randel's breakfast?"
"No."
"You totally were."
"I wasn't."
Randel looked down at his plate.
"Is it too much?"
"No," I said immediately.
Taron nodded solemnly.
"Never allow another man to question the magnitude of your breakfast, Randel."
"I wasn't questioning it."
"You were doing it with your eyes."
"That isn't a crime."
"Depends on the jurisdiction."
Ryn groaned.
"You both speak too much."
I looked down at his plate.
One untouched slice of toast rested beside the riverfish.
Without thinking, I reached over, took the slice, tore off a piece, and ate it.
Ryn slowly turned toward me.
His face conveyed betrayal.
"Dude."
I continued chewing.
"Why do you keep taking my pieces of bread?!"
I looked at the remaining toast in my hand.
Then at him.
"You didn't look like you were going to eat it."
There was a pause.
Taron burst out laughing.
Loudly.
Far too loudly.
Randel tried to suppress his own laugh behind one hand and failed.
Ryn stared at me.
"What the hell kind of reason is that?!"
"It seemed reasonable enough to me."
"It was on my plate!"
"You were neglecting it in my eyes."
"I was eating the fish first!"
"Poor ordering judgment from you."
"Kael!"
Taron nearly dropped one of his skewers.
"Oh, by the gods, I can't breathe."
"You shut up too!"
"HAHAHA, why? I haven't even done anything!"
"You're encouraging him!"
"I have to; I'm a supporter of the Free Bread Movement Act."
"That isn't free! It was mine!"
Randel laughed harder.
Ryn snapped toward him.
"You too?!"
Randel immediately tried to recover.
"Sorry."
"I can't believe you were laughing as well!"
"I know, sorry."
"Stop apologising for laughing!"
"Sorry."
Ryn stared at him.
Randel froze.
"... Right."
For a while, the four of us simply existed like that.
Talking.
Eating.
Arguing over nothing.
Taron tried to convince Ryn that his bread theft constituted an economic redistribution policy. Ryn threatened to redistribute one of Taron's skewers through his forehead. Randel quietly pointed out that this would probably violate cafeteria rules.
I found myself smiling. Something about it felt oddly peaceful.
No stress about a ranking board, no Great House politics to deal with, no tormenting ancient Memory-Relics, and no professors trying to make an example out of me.
It was just breakfast.
For a fleeting moment, I finally understood what Academy life was supposed to be about.
Classes.
Training.
Friends.
There were complaints about the exams. Terrible attempts at stealing food. These were small things. Normal things.
Normal enough to make Aetherion feel ordinary.
Ryn was in the middle of complaining about Taron's increasingly elaborate defence of my theft when he finally reached his limit.
"Alright, will you guys shut the fu—"
"Are you SERIOUSLY sitting with these peasants, Caelvarin?"
The atmosphere changed instantly.
It wasn't dramatic, but enough to feel.
The laughter suddenly stopped.
Ryn's unfinished sentence died a premature death.
Randel's eyes dropped immediately to his breakfast.
I turned.
Darius Renora stood a few feet from our table.
His dark, almost blue-black hair was arranged in those sharp, upward-swept angles I remembered from the commoner training hall. His black-and-white uniform bore the broad violet accents of House Renora, pristine enough to make it obvious he had never rushed to class half-dressed.
His narrow eyes moved across us, scanning our table.
Ryn.
Randel.
Me.
And then Taron.
Taron leaned back casually without a care in the world.
"Ahhh, Darius."
His smile became alarmingly too pleasant.
"What brings you here? Was getting fed by your maids too boring for you?"
Darius's expression tightened, his eyes getting even narrower.
Taron continued.
"Wait, let me guess, you asked them to wipe your ass for you as well, but they said no?"
Silence.
Absolute silence.
My brain required a second to process what the hell he had just said.
'DAMN, TARON.'
I looked at Ryn.
He appeared simultaneously mortified and deeply proud.
His mouth hung slightly open, as if he'd just discovered Taron had hidden some superficial value.
Randel had his head down, focused intensely on his porridge.
The porridge had never received so much attention in its life.
Meanwhile, Darius looked like a blood vessel near his forehead had been assigned a very difficult task. Too not pop.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low.
"I can see that hanging around with the lesser folk has brought your vocabulary down to their level."
Taron's smile did not move.
"But no matter," Darius continued. "That shall be fixed today."
That caught my attention.
"In a few hours, you will be freed of your grovelling companions."
'Who the hell is grovelling?'
I looked around our table.
We were sitting.
Eating breakfast.
Ryn still had fish in his mouth.
'This guy might be the most delusional person I've met.'
Out of curiosity, I glanced toward Ryn.
His humour had disappeared.
His shoulders had stiffened, and one hand rested flat against the table. I could almost feel the restraint holding his Aether beneath his skin.
He probably wouldn't start anything.
I think.
Taron's eyes narrowed.
"What do you mean by that, Darius?"