".....Alaric of Saint Elyss."

  The name hung in the air, silencing the whispers of the crowd.

  Instructor Hargan rolled up the scroll with a sharp snap. He didn't seem to care about the shock rippling through the plaza.

  "Those named for Section A, step forward," Hargan commanded.

  Alaric moved out of the line. He felt the weight of hundreds of eyes on him. Most were filled with confusion, some with envy, and a few from the noble line with outright hostility.

  He wasn't the only anomaly. Silan, the quiet boy with the messy brown hair, stepped forward as well. And there was one other commoner, a tall girl with a stoic expression who had scored high in the physicals. Three commoners. Twelve nobles.

  "Roland of Valcrest," Hargan barked. "Front and center."

  Roland stepped forward, his posture perfect. He stood at the head of the group, looking every bit the leader the Academy expected him to be.

  "The rest of you, check the notice board for your classroom assignments," Hargan announced to the remaining crowd. "New students, your classrooms are in the Second Block. Section D is at the start of the hall. Section A is at the farthest end. Your advisors will brief you."

  He turned on his heel and marched toward the main building. "Section A, with me."

  Before they split up, the group of four from lunch huddled together briefly.

  "I can't believe it," Jarik said, slapping Alaric on the back. "Section A? You and Silan? That's insane."

  "Just lucky," Alaric deflected, though he knew luck had nothing to do with it.

  "Don't be modest," Darsia said, shaking his head. "I'm in Section C. It’s better than I hoped, but still....."

  "Don't get comfortable," Jarik said, his expression turning serious. "I heard the older students talking. The sections aren't fixed."

  "What do you mean?" Silan asked softly.

  "It's a three-year course," Jarik explained. "At the end of every year, they reshuffle based on final rankings. The bottom five students of Section A get demoted to B. The top five of B move up to A. Same for B and C. But for C and D..... it's the bottom ten and top ten."

  A constant churn..... Alaric thought. You can't just get in and coast. You have to fight to keep your spot.

  "I'm going to work my way up," Jarik promised, grinning. "Wait for me, Alaric. I'll be in Section A by next year."

  "I'll be waiting," Alaric smiled.

  Alaric and Silan separated from the others, following the path to the Second Block.

  The Academy buildings were intimidating. As they walked down the long hallway of the Second Block, the quality of the fixtures seemed to improve the further they went.

  At the very end of the hall, was heavy oak with iron reinforcements and a gold plaque reading 1-A. They pushed inside.

  Alaric paused.

  It was less a classroom and more a small council chamber. The room was tiered, with rows of desks descending toward a lecturer's podium. The ceiling was high, decorated with a crystal chandelier that cast a warm, magical light. Massive windows on the left wall overlooked the training grounds, letting in the orange glow of the setting sun.

  There were only fifteen seats, yet the room felt huge.

  Alaric took a seat near the back. Silan sat next to him. The nobles filtered in, taking the front rows . They formed natural clusters, talking in low voices, ignoring the three commoners entirely.

  The door banged open.

  Instructor Hargan walked in. He tossed a stack of papers onto the podium.

  "Sit down," he ordered. "I am the advisor for Class 1-A. You already know my name."

  "You are the elite," Hargan said, his voice grating like gravel. "Or so the numbers say. In this room, your family name buys you nothing but a seat. If you fail my exams, you will be demoted. If you break my rules, you will be expelled. Is that clear?"

  "Yes, sir," the class chanted, though some of the nobles sounded bored.

  "Your routine is simple," Hargan continued. "The first 5 days of the week in the morning are Physical Combat and Strategy.The first 3 days Afternoons are Magic Theory and Application.The next 2 days Afternoons are for Mathematics, History, and Diplomacy."

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Diplomacy..... Alaric noted. Of course. Knights are expected to be officers and representatives of the crown.

  "You will be fitted for your uniforms at the academy tailor in the East Wing," Hargan said. "After that, proceed to the dormitories. Dismissed."

  The tailor was efficient. Alaric was measured and handed a bundle of clothes within minutes.

  The uniform was sharp—a dark blue tunic with white trim, durable trousers, and polished leather boots. But the most important detail was the metal plate pinned to the left breast.

  It was a nameplate.

  Alaric.

  The name was engraved on a rectangular piece of gold.

  Alaric looked over at a student from Section B getting fitted nearby. Their plate was silver. Section C had bronze. Section D had copper.

  Visual segregation..... Alaric thought, running his thumb over the cold metal. They want everyone to know your rank at a glance. It creates a hierarchy before anyone even speaks.

  He walked out of the shop with Silan. A group of Section A nobles was waiting near the door, laughing.

  "Can you believe they let three of them in?" one noble boy muttered, loud enough to be heard. "The classroom is going to smell like a barn."

  "Standards are slipping," another agreed, sneering at Alaric’s old clothes. "Just because they know a few parlor tricks....."

  Silan stiffened, keeping his head down. Alaric didn't react visibly, but his mind was already thinking of the physics of a steam explosion in a confined hallway.

  "Enough."

  The voice was calm but sharp. Roland stepped out of the shop, adjusting his collar. The gold plate on his chest caught the light.

  He looked at the noble boys. "If you are worried about the smell, perhaps you should focus on not sweating so much in training tomorrow. If they are here, they passed the same test you did."

  "Roland, come on," the first boy laughed nervously. "We're just saying."

  "Be worthy of the gold," Roland said simply, walking past them. "Or lose it."

  The nobles fell silent.

  As Roland passed Alaric, he didn't stop. But his eyes flicked to the side, meeting Alaric’s gaze for a second. It wasn't a friendly look. It was an acknowledgment. I handled it. Don't think we are close though.

  Alaric watched him go. Arrogant But fair.

  The dormitories were located behind the main academic buildings.

  Alaric and Silan met up with Jarik and Darsia at the entrance. The Dorm Master, an elderly man who looked like he’d seen fifty years of students come and go, handed them a registry book.

  "Four to a room," the Master wheezed. "Pick an empty one, sign your names. No fighting, no magic in the halls, lights out at ten."

  "Let's stick together," Jarik suggested immediately.

  They found an empty room on the second floor. Room 204.

  It was surprisingly decent. The room was rectangular with hardwood floors. There was a single, large window at the far end, letting in the evening breeze. A washroom was attached to the side.

  There were four beds. Two were positioned near the window, and two near the door. Each bed had a simple desk, a chair, and a wardrobe with four compartments standing against the wall.

  "Window bed!" Jarik shouted, diving onto the mattress on the left side near the glass.

  "I'll take the other window one," Darsia said quickly, dropping his bag.

  Alaric shrugged. "I don't mind the door."

  He claimed the bed on the right, closest to the entrance. Silan took the one opposite him.

  They spent the next hour unpacking. Alaric carefully arranged his few possessions—the healing salve Sister Elaine gave him, his spare clothes, and the pouch of coins from Father Corwin.

  "This feels real now," Jarik said, hanging his uniform in the wardrobe. He looked at the silver plate. "Look at this. Silver. Not bad, huh?"

  Alaric placed his gold-plated uniform on the hanger. The room went quiet for a second.

  "Man," Jarik laughed, shaking his head. "Section A. You guys are going to have to tutor us."

  "We should eat," Alaric said, closing the wardrobe. "I'm starving."

  The cafeteria was a massive hall, smelling of roasted meat, fresh herbs, and baked bread.

  The hall was filled with long, sturdy wooden tables arranged in neat rows. Students from all sections were mixing in the line, grabbing trays and finding seats wherever they could. While social cliques still naturally formed, with groups of nobles often sitting together, there was no rule enforcing it.

  "Wait, we can sit anywhere?" Darsia asked, looking around nervously.

  "Looks like it," Jarik grinned, grabbing a tray. "Come on, I smell beef."

  They joined the line. The food was identical for everyone, and it was incredible.

  Back at the orphanage, meals were for surviving, thin stews, root vegetables, hard bread. Meat was a luxury for feast days.

  Here, the servers ladled out generous portions. There was roast chicken with crispy skin, thick slices of beef in rich gravy, fresh green salads, wheels of soft cheese, and bread that was still warm from the oven.

  "This is amazing," Jarik mumbled, his mouth half-full as they found an empty table near the center of the hall. "If the training is hard, at least the food makes up for it."

  Alaric took a bite of the beef. It was tender, rich, and perfectly seasoned.

  The Academy invests in its assets..... Alaric thought, looking around.

  They ate in relative peace. The noise of the hall was a constant hum of conversation and clattering cutlery. Alaric watched the room. He saw students from Section A sitting a few tables away mostly nobles but he also saw a few Silver badges sitting with Copper ones.

  It was a small relief. At least here, they were just hungry teenagers.

  Alaric finished his meal quickly. The day had been long, and his mind was already drifting toward the coursework for tomorrow.

  "I'm going to head back," Alaric said, standing up and taking his tray. "I want to read ahead for the strategy class."

  "Already?" Jarik shook his head. "You're obsessed. Go on, we'll catch up."

  "See you in the room," Silan nodded.

  Alaric walked toward the exit, feeling the weight of the day settling on his shoulders.

  As he reached the double doors, they swung open.

  Roland walked in. He had changed out of his armor into the academy uniform.

  He stopped when he saw Alaric blocking the path.