At the end of first year, we had said goodbye to our professors, Merria and Somnius. Most of the boys in my class were devastated to lose Professor Merria for morning classes, but I was secretly happy. A pretty young teacher was a bit of a distraction, especially now that I was twelve and coming into adulthood.

  The classes had been rearranged for second year. Ramius and Pellia weren’t in my class this year, which was fine by me. While we hadn’t butted heads much after the start of the year, they had grown increasingly competitive with me during practical magic classes, and I was glad I wouldn’t have to deal with that again while learning [Create Wind] and [Create Ice] through second year.

  Our new morning teacher for non-magic classes, Professor Trisabel, was an ancient-looking woman who was well-known for being rather strict, particularly on matters of etiquette and formality. I was sure to mess that up, and hoped that my performance when it came to objective classes like math would keep me in her good graces.

  Lunch period was the same for us in second year, but Felris was a fourth year now and had a different lunch period as a senior. After the dungeon incident in summer, as things had grown somewhat strained between us, she had increasingly started eating with classmates and friends instead of me and Felton, but she still joined us once in a while. It would be two more years before that could happen again, and that would be her final year.

  After lunch, we piled into our new classroom, curious to see who our new magic teacher was. I stifled a groan when Professor Somnius swept into the classroom, the door slamming shut behind him.

  “Some of you had me last year, and some of you are new faces. I expect a certain level of competence from all of you,” he said as part of his introductory speech. His eyes narrowed on me as he looked over the entire class, and I let out a small sigh. I was pretty sure, then, that he was planning on following me through my entire education career.

  Classes went smoothly enough otherwise, and we began learning the invocation for [Create Wind]. When class let out, Felton wanted to learn a bit more of my “secret math tips” regarding what we were going to cover in second year, so we headed to the library and did some studying together until the seniors let out. When they started trickling into the library, we packed up and headed out to meet up with Felris and see how her first day as a senior went.

  Felton and I discovered Felris out in front of the academy quietly arguing with an older boy.

  “Ugh, Gustar,” Felton muttered.

  I hadn’t seen the older boy for a while, so I’d kind of forgotten about him outside of the abstract notion of Felris being engaged to the jerk.

  As we watched, Gustar reached out and grabbed Felris’s arm.

  I don’t know what came over me. Puberty, probably, and budding levels of testosterone. In any case, before I really knew what I was doing, I was marching over to them.

  “Let go of her arm,” I said to the teen, despite him standing a full head taller than me. He was also a count’s heir, though at the moment all I saw was a bigger boy, almost a man, bullying a young girl.

  Gustar looked down at me and sneered. “Fuck off, cripple,” he said, shocking me enough that I didn’t notice he had let Felris go—in order to shove me, hard.

  I wasn’t expecting it, and Gustar was larger and stronger than me, so despite my training his shove sent me to the ground. I fell painfully on my only good wrist, trying to avoid landing on my prosthetic, and I was too distracted by the fall and the surprise to see what had happened.

  A loud smacking sound filled the air of the academy’s entrance yard, which had fallen completely silent of the murmurs of the nearby students.

  I looked up and saw a shocked expression on Gustar’s face, as well as a red mark on his cheek. Felris stood opposite him, clutching her hand.

  Oh no, I thought.

  Felton rushed to my side to help me up, his eyes wide and darting between Felris and Gustar, whose expression was rapidly shifting from shock to sheer rage. His hand was coming up, and I was desperately considering my options, when an aged voice rang out, freezing the tableau.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Somnius boomed, walking over from the academy’s front doors. His eyes flicked between me on the ground, Felris clutching her hand, and a red faced Gustar who was rapidly steeling his expression.

  “Professor, this woman—” Gustar started to say.

  “Professor, he pushed—” Felton began, overlapping him.

  “Professor, I didn’t—“ Felris added to the mix.

  “Silence, all of you,” Somnius demanded. Everyone stopped talking, and Somnius took a second to look around. There were a number of other students watching, and some carriage drivers and other staff who were in view of the entrance. “The four of you, go to the headmaster’s office. Inside, now.”

  * * *

  The headmaster was a middle-aged man named Rollard. I had seen him before, mostly at assemblies, and sometimes in the halls, but he wasn’t very involved in day to day affairs of the students. I had no idea how he was chosen for the role. Surely he wasn’t as capable of a mage as Somnius, and he was much younger. I assumed it was something political.

  “Let's see here,” he muttered, looking down at some papers on his desk. “Ah. Gustar. Count of Hyron’s heir, correct? And Felris and Felton, Baron of Obdorn’s two eldest children. And finally… Tovar,” he said, pursing his lips. “The Great Sage’s ward? Interesting composition.”

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  Gustar’s eyes widened slightly, and he glanced over at me quickly before looking away. Ah, he must not have known. Not that you should need a reason not to push handicapped people to the ground. Or any people, for that matter.

  “As I’m sure you all know, we have a zero tolerance policy for violence here,” Rollard said, shuffling around our paperwork. “Professor Somnius already told me what he saw, but he didn’t see how it started. Why don’t you tell me what the circumstances were?”

  We each gave our version of the story, based on what we saw. Gustar painted himself more the victim of violence than the perpetrator, obviously, but the rest of the testimonies were more or less consistent. None of us tried to lie about whether Felris slapped Gustar, though I said I didn’t actually see it due to being pushed to the ground first. Still, Felton and even Felris admitted as much, not willing to lie to the headmaster, so I didn’t bother trying to obstruct the truth.

  “Hmm,” Rolland said as he sat back in his chair, rubbing his chin. “Well, given what I’ve heard, it sounds to me like I should expel both Gustar and Felris for their actions.”

  Felris’s eyes immediately filled with tears, and Gustar failed to suppress a sneer of disgust. I took a controlled breath. What can I do?

  “Um, headmaster,” I said, and Rolland raised an eyebrow towards me. “If I forgive Gustar for pushing me to the ground, could you… maybe go with a probationary warning, instead of expulsion?”

  Rolland appraised me for a moment, then nodded slightly. “I suppose I could.”

  I turned to Gustar, who looked at me with suspicion. “Well, Gustar. I might be willing to forgive you, if you’d be willing to forgive Felris. She only responded in my defense, after all.”

  Suspicion turned to understanding, and he and I both glanced back at Rolland for confirmation. The headmaster tilted his head towards us in affirmation.

  “Fine,” Gustar grunted, turning to Felris. “I forgive you for what transpired today. No harm done.”

  Felris nodded, muttered a small thank you, then looked down into her lap as Gustar turned to me.

  “And I forgive you as well, Gustar.” My wrist was a bit sore, but I’d live. “I hope we can all move past this.”

  “Quite civil of all of you. Very well,” Rolland said, making some notes on the files in front of him before closing them. “Gustar and Felris, you are both on academic probation. Any further violation of school policy will result in immediate expulsion. Dismissed.”

  We shuffled out of the office, and Gustar glared at the three of us before turning and striding off quickly, keen to avoid getting himself in any further trouble. I hoped this would be the end of it, but I doubted we’d be so lucky.

  Felris sniffled as we made our way away from the headmaster’s office, with Felton rubbing her back. I cleared my throat awkwardly.

  “Uh, Felris,” I stammered. “Sorry for getting involved. If I didn’t interfere…”

  “No, that—it’s my fault, I just got so angry when he shoved you, how dare he call you that when you—ugh,” she shook her head, wiping her eyes. “You saved me in the dungeon, and it cost you your hand. I couldn’t let Gustar insult you like that. You’re a hero,” she said, before blushing furiously.

  “Uh. Well. Thanks,” I said, feeling a blush rising on my cheeks as well.

  Felton glanced between me and his sister before clearing his throat. “Well. I’m worried about Gustar. He’s not just going to take that.”

  “I’m worried too,” Felris said, quietly.

  “Even with the probation? Would he risk getting expelled?”

  “There’s… a lot someone can do without breaking the rules, Tovar. That’s politics. And Gustar’s well trained in politics,” Felton explained.

  I sighed. That was all over my head, even after a year of classes among nobility.

  Parting ways with the siblings, I headed home alone. Not the start of the school year I had expected, I thought glumly. I glanced at my missing hand. Gustar still probably would have shoved me anyway, even if I had a hand, just for being a commoner, but Felris wouldn’t have been so upset by it. Maybe. Nothing I can do about it now.

  I knew that wouldn’t be the end of it, and I was right. As the first weeks of school progressed, I heard from classmates that some seniors were asking about me, presumably Gustar’s lackeys probing for weaknesses. Surprisingly, it was Ramius who apparently put a stop to that, having heard about what happened and approaching the count’s heir directly. The duke’s heir had decided early on not to risk the relationship with the Great Sage by harming me, and passed that message along.

  While I was made immune from his whims, Felris was not. She was merely the eldest daughter of a baron, and he was a future count. First, the engagement between them was annulled. I had thought that would be a good thing, but as it had been done at the request of the count of Hyron, it was a stain on Felris’s personal standing. It also made the long term relationship between Obdorn and Hyron much more precarious, and Obdorn was still dealing with the dungeon campaign. Still, I figured it was a recoverable situation. Felris would hopefully be able to find a marriage candidate from another neighboring lordship, someone she actually liked.

  As classes picked up, my concerns about Gustar fell off my radar, as I was focused on learning [Create Wind] in class while also studying [Control Fire] and working on my [Manakinesis] in private, as well as improving my [Swordsmanship] with Byron. With Felris being a senior, I was no longer seeing her at lunch, and she was keeping her distance after classes as well.

  Somnial was also still bed-bound, which at his age wasn’t good for his long-term prospects. Despite his health, he didn’t seem worried, which in turn worried me that he was too easily accepting his own demise. I began heading home right after class in order to spend time with him, continuing our daily chats while there was still daylight, and eating dinner with him before leaving him to sleep.

  He had more or less confessed to me that he regretted not having children, which was why he sponsored me. I wanted to ensure he felt some amount of the care and compassion, and maybe even love, which he had missed out on.

  So I was fairly surprised when, towards the end of the spring term, I returned to the manor to find Somnial sitting at the dining room table, his health seemingly restored. He was still a bit gaunt after losing some muscle to atrophy, but the fact that he was out of bed at all was shocking to me.

  “Ah, Tovar, welcome home,” Somnial said with a soft smile. Byron stood nearby, failing at his usual stoicism, unable to suppress a satisfied smile at the sage’s recovery.

  I pulled my eyes from him and looked around the table, noticing the other two guests. A well dressed old woman sat in Somnial’s spot at the head of the table, with Somnial sitting to her left. She was a bit heavier, not quite overweight but well-fed, or maybe she just looked that way sitting next to the gaunt sage. On her right was another equally old man. He had wiry muscles that spoke to a lifetime of training, though most of that life was behind him. He had probably been a slab of muscle in his youth.

  When I thought that, I realized where I recognized him from, then turned back to the old woman, seeing the similarities there as well.

  “You’re the [Saint],” I said in surprise. I looked back at the other man. “And you’re the [Hero].”

  The three ancient champions looked at each other with quiet mirth in their eyes, sharing some unspoken inside joke.

  “Tovar, meet Dargan and Elsa, my oldest and dearest friends. Elsa, Dargan, this is my ward, Tovar.”