Klarion sat slightly uncomfortably in one of the new high-backed chairs that someone — probably Margaret — had placed in the newly refurbished parlor room within Blacksword Manor. It’s not that the chair was even that uncomfortable. In fact, it was likely the softest chair he had sat in since leaving Earth. No, the problem was that he was itching to get started on unlocking his Essences and gathering the resources necessary to unlock his class. But he knew he needed to talk with his friends first to get their input on his plan. Which is why he just finished telling his two fellow scions about Professor Thrain’s advice.

  Across from him, Valdre lounged in his own chair in a way that said he was quite enjoying it, though he did have a thoughtful expression on his face to show that he was considering what he had said. Redrek, in contrast, leaned forward, his red-tinted skin and the harsh angles of his hobgoblin lineage giving him a far more grounded presence. He had one clawed hand resting on the arm of his chair, his expression serious.

  “So, let me get this straight,” Redrek said, rubbing his chin. “You actually had a professor tell you not to go to class?” His sharp teeth showed something between amusement and incredulity. “Damn, I think that might be a first.”

  Klarion shook his head. "It wasn’t exactly an encouragement to slack off. Professor Thrain specifically said that if I’m serious about unlocking my class, then I need to stop wasting time and dedicate myself to it fully."

  Valdre let out a low grunt of agreement. Or perhaps it was a grunt of satisfaction at the comfort of the chair. “That’s… heavy advice. But he’s not wrong.”

  Klarion turned his gaze to Valdre, frowning at the studious elf’s complete agreement with the professor’s advice. He had expected him to disagree a bit more. “You agree with him?”

  Valdre gave a slow shrug. “With the deadline imposed by the Noble’s Agreement with Chadwick, you’re essentially behind at the moment, Klarion. Not by your own fault, of course, but because of everything stacked against you since arriving here. If ignore the professor’s advice, trying to balance everything—combat training, academic lectures, noble etiquette, and unlocking your class—you might well end up failing at all of them.”

  Redrek nodded in agreement at the other scion’s words. “Essences don’t just unlock themselves. And the materials you need? They’re not just lying around. The process to attain both takes time, effort, and, let’s be honest, a good bit of luck.” His eyes narrowed. “You don’t have the luxury of waiting until the Festival of the Dawn to start. If you want to stand a chance, you need to start now."

  Klarion drummed his fingers against the armrest, his mind racing. He had expected resistance, or at least a warning against throwing himself entirely into one pursuit. Instead, both of them agreed with Professor Thrain’s assessment. Thankfully, that was in line with how he was thinking about it.

  “I was thinking about listening to the professor, I just wanted your advice before fully committing to it,” Klarion admitted. “I asked you both here because I trust you, and I need to know what you think—really think."

  Valdre shifted in his chair, reaching up one hand to begin rubbing his temple before shaking his head. "Right or wrong doesn’t matter in a situation like this. What matters is whether or not it’s necessary. Based on everything you’ve told us, my opinion is this: If you don’t do this, you won’t unlock your class in time, and if that happens… you won’t survive the duel with Chadwick.”

  Redrek grunted. “I still can’t believe you entered into a Noble’s Agreement with Copperhand. I know you did it to buy time, but now that duel is hanging over your head like a damn executioner’s axe.”

  “It was the only way to get uninterrupted time," Klarion said, his voice hard. "If I hadn’t, I’d be dodging challenges and provocations every week. This way, they have to leave me alone. At least, until the Festival."

  “Until the Festival,” Valdre echoed. “Which means you have that long to become something they can’t kill.”

  Valdre chuckled, shaking his head. “A dangerous gamble, Klarion. But not a foolish one.” His fingers traced the rim of the cup that had been left before him by one of Klarion’s maids. “Still, unlocking Might and Fire in such a short time… and finding the right materials to unlock your class… That is still no small feat, even without interference from Copperhand and his sycophants.”

  Klarion nodded. “Which is why I need to start immediately.”

  At Klarion’s determination, Valdre and Redrek shared a look before the half-frost elf turned back to him. “Well, Professor Thrain’s advice makes one thing clear—our time is short. If we are going to want to stand with you — as your allies and friends — that means we need to claim our Essences and Classes as soon as possible as well.”

  Redrek leaned against the table, his expression tempered by a rare seriousness. “It’s a good thing we both have already been thinking over Essences and classes that align with our strengths. Unfortunately, that means we won’t be able to go along with you in your pursuit of the Essences of Might and Fire.”

  “So you’re both going off on your own?” Klarion asked, having already somewhat expected that.

  “Temporarily,” Valdre clarified. “I need to find a place where Ice Essence is said to manifest naturally, since that will likely make it easier to unlock it myself.”

  “And I,” Redrek chimed in, “need to immerse myself in a place where the lines between shadow and reality blur. There are supposedly places where the darkness is practically alive. If I want to claim the class I want, I need to find a place like that to gain a Shadow Essence.”

  “That makes sense to me, on both counts. I just wish we had enough time to help each other more fully,” Klarion said somewhat regretfully. “But as things stand, I think it is best that I head over to check the Central Archives for any assignments that align with what I need.”

  Redrek scoffed before he realized Klarion was serious. “The Central Archives? Why would you need to go there? That’s where the bookworms go to play with parchment and professors get scions to complete tasks they’re too lazy to do themselves. Even if they reward Coins and Seals, those won’t be useful for you in your efforts to unlock Essences and your class. If you want real assignments that will help, you should go to Expeditionary Hall instead. The Mission Boards there will actually give you something worthwhile.”

  Klarion raised an eyebrow. This was the second time he had heard of an alternative to the Central Archives for tracking down the materials he needed. “Professor Stormcloak mentioned that to me as well, but I haven’t been to the Expeditionary Hall yet to look at the Mission Boards.”

  Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

  Valdre and Redrek exchanged a glance, though this time it was a look of shared exasperation.

  “You’ve not been to the Expeditionary Hall yet?” Valdre asked, his brows furrowed. “I thought you would have at least gone to look into it, since it’s where scions go for real work. You know, the kind that actually gets you out of the Imperial Academy into the fortress city of Bastion and beyond.”

  Klarion leaned forward, frowning. “Wait, there’s a city outside the Imperial Academy?”

  Now it was Redrek’s turn to blink in surprise. “Of course. Where did you think all the supplies, workers, and trade came from? You don’t think the Academy just conjures everything into existence, do you?”

  Klarion opened his mouth, then shut it. He had never questioned it. Everything he needed he had been able to find without looking too hard. He had been so consumed by his studies, his training, and the constant concern of surviving each day that he had never considered if there was anything beyond the Academy’s walls. Of course, there would be something else beyond the Imperial Academy.

  Redrek let out a deep chuckle at the slowly dawning look of comprehension on Klarion’s face. “You mean to tell me you’ve been here all this time and never once explored beyond the Academy grounds?”

  Klarion's face flushed slightly, a mix of embarrassment in the midst of the realization washing over him. "Well… I’ve been a bit preoccupied. You know, with classes, figuring out the Essences I need to unlock, trying to figure out… everything." He gestured vaguely, his hand encompassing the room, then the implied expanse of everything new he had just learned about. "It’s been one thing after another, really. From the moment I arrived, it’s been a whirlwind. I’ve been so focused on just keeping my head above water that I never even considered… going anywhere else. I just assumed the Imperial Academy was it, and for getting the Essences and class I wanted, the Archives were the place to go, you know? It never even occurred to me there was another option.”

  “That’s because you’ve been too focused on the Academy itself,” Valdre said, shaking his head. He looked to Redrek, but the hobgoblin waved him on, so the half-elf turned his attention back to Klarion. “Bastion is the city — the fortress-city, really —that surrounds the Imperial Academy. It is layered with walls upon walls, each one more imposing than the last, all constructed to shield the Academy from the dangers lurking within the rest of the pocket plane.”

  Valdre then spread his hands wide, as if to encompass the enormity of Bastion itself. “At its core, it houses the estates of a number of noble families assigned as caretakers for the pocket plane and Bastion itself. Their influence is woven into the fabric of the city, and a significant part of what lies beyond the Imperial Academy lies within their purview. But beyond that? The outer rings are filled with merchants, artisans, and the countless others who exist to serve them and the residents of the Imperial Academy itself.”

  Redrek at this point chimed in, adding his thoughts. “Bastion is not just a fortress city—it’s a testament to the power of our Empire. It is where commerce thrives, where rare materials are refined, where alchemists and enchanters ply their craft, and where the political games of scions just emerging from the protective embraces of their familial Houses play out in the shadows.” His eyes gleamed with something sharp as he stared hard at Klarion. “But more than that, it is opportunity. A chance for those not born to noble blood —or those still fresh to it, like my family — to carve out a place for themselves.”

  “Though still lacking compared to the resources and support provided to us here, in the Imperial Academy, Bastion is still one of the greatest paths to power in the Empire,” Valdre continued when the hobgoblin briefly turned his thoughts inward. “Outside the pocket plane, a commoner could live a dozen lifetimes and never hold wealth or status beyond what they were born into. Here? Here, the strong rise. The cunning thrive.”

  Redrek grunted, finally stirring from his thoughts. “And the foolish are devoured.”

  “So, much like the Imperial Academy itself, it’s a potential source of power and wealth, but also dangerous to the unwary?” Klarion asked, already suspecting the answer.

  “Yes. Think of Bastion as... a pressure cooker," Valdre began, shifting in his chair as he worked to find the words. "It's this pocket plane, see? And it's where anyone in our corner of the Empire might be sent if they have a spark of potential, regardless of their position or background. Humans, elves, dwarves, beastkin—anyone can potentially get access. It's a chance, an escape for a lot of them, because the Empire... well, it's got its rigid ways. Inside Bastion, though? It's different. It's a free-for-all. You don't get handed status; you take it. A blacksmith can become a legend by forging the best weapons, an alchemist can brew potions that'll bring even the weakest individual power, and a merchant can strike it rich trading in stuff you can't find anywhere else. It's all about skill, ambition, and how tough you are.”

  "But it all comes back to the Imperial Academy…” Klarion said as the pieces clicked together in his mind. "Everything, everything, still comes back to the Academy and its Scions, right? The merchants? They're angling for contracts with noble houses, which means dealing with Scions. The crafters? They're making gear for future nobles and Imperial officers, which, again, means Scions. The taverns and other sources of entertainment? They're all catering to students who need a break from classes and training.” His eyes widened as a final piece clicked into place. “They know that if they impress a Scion and get into their service, they're set for life. It's like the Academy's the heart of the whole damn place, pumping life into everything, even when people are trying to escape the Empire's normal rules…”

  “Exactly.”

  As Valdre and Redrek nodded in agreement, Klarion leaned back in his chair, staring at the table as he worked to process everything. A city—Bastion City—right outside the Imperial Academy, vast enough to rival the Academy itself. He could practically kick himself for not having considered it already. Everything he had needed had been provided—food, weapons, training halls, libraries—but he had never thought to ask where it all came from. But now that Valdre and Redrek had said it outright, it seemed absurd that he had never considered it.

  Klarion clenched his jaw, annoyance flickering through him. He had begun to feel a little pride about how he was becoming steadily more aware of his surroundings, and of moving from the defensive to the offensive against Chadwick and his other enemies.

  Valdre tapped a long finger against the table, watching him. “I can see the wheels turning. Don’t take it too hard, Klarion. The Academy keeps its scions busy. I’d wager there are still a good number of first-years that haven’t yet learned about Bastion.”

  While Klarion appreciated his friend saying so, it didn’t help with the self-recrimination he was feeling. “That doesn’t make it any less of a mistake on my part.”

  “Perhaps,” Valdre said, conceding the point. “But now you know, and that’s what matters.”

  “Alright, and how do these Mission Boards and the Expeditionary Hall play into things?”

  “The Mission Boards, and the Expeditionary Hall in which they lie, is the nexus of Bastion's power. It's not some quiet library; it's a storm's eye. It's where deals are struck, where lives are wagered, where fortunes are made and lost. It's the central hub of the pocket plane where opportunities are offered and accepted. Tasks that will test your skill, your courage, and your very limits. Tasks that will, ultimately, shape who you become before you graduate from this place."

  “I’ve been there once already, and it is not just the Academy throwing out tasks," Redrek added, bringing Klarion’s attention back to him. “The residents of Bastion, the nobles, merchants, the artisans, everyone including the… less reputable elements, they all post missions. They need things done, things the Academy doesn't concern itself with. And most of those missions go beyond Bastion itself.”

  “Beyond Bastion?”

  “Yes,” the hobgoblin nodded, his expression a mix of excitement and fear. “Most every mission I saw was not one able to be completed in Bastion itself.”

  “Where did they have to be completed, then?”

  “The Savage Wilds.”

  If you want to support me as an author, please consider following my work, sharing the story with others, leaving a review, or checking out my , where you can read ahead! One-time support via or is also greatly appreciated and will help me head towards being able to write more chapters per week. Thank you for reading my story!