The two months following Magister Lysandra's visit passed in a flurry of preparation. My father, having reluctantly accepted my decision, now threw himself into ensuring I would be as prepared as possible for the challenges ahead.
"The Arcanum Spire admits fewer than fifty students each year," he explained as we sat in his study, surrounded by ancient tomes he'd borrowed from nearby nobles. "Of those, barely half survive to graduation."
"Survive?" Sylphi gasped from the doorway, where she'd been eavesdropping. Her small face paled. "Brother will die?"
I beckoned her over and pulled her onto my lap. "Not literally die, Syl," I assured her, though my father's grim expression suggested otherwise. "Father means that many students withdraw due to academic pressure or... political considerations."
My father sighed. "Unfortunately, Arthur is correct about both interpretations. The curriculum is designed to eliminate the weak. And yes, there are... incidents."
"Duels," I said flatly. "Despite being officially forbidden."
He nodded. "The Academy maintains a fiction of prohibition while tacitly allowing challenges between students. They're typically non-lethal, but accidents happen with concerning frequency, particularly to students without powerful backing."
My stomach tightened. In my previous life, I had navigated the cutthroat politics of academia—competing for grants, publication priority, and tenure. But there, the consequences of failure had been professional embarrassment, not death.
"Then I'll need to be stronger than I am now," I said, resolve hardening within me.
---
The next morning found me in the forest clearing behind our modest estate. Master Thorne had agreed to intensify my training, though he grumbled constantly about "sending lambs to slaughter" and "aristocratic bloodsport disguised as education."
"Show me your defensive barriers again," he ordered, his weathered face set in concentration.
I traced the traditional sigil for a fire barrier, but modified the terminus point, creating a recursive loop in the energy flow. "Ignae MurusRecursus," I incanted.
A wall of flame sprung up before me, but unlike the standard barrier that would rapidly consume magical energy, mine had a self-sustaining property. The modification I'd developed applied a principle similar to a harmonic oscillator from my previous life's physics.
Master Thorne hurled a water bolt at my barrier. The opposing elements met with a hiss of steam, but my fire wall held.
"Impressive," he admitted. "But somewhat predictable. At the Academy, they'll expect you to rely on fire as your primary element. Duke Ragna's spies will have reported that much."
I smiled. "Then perhaps we should practice something less expected."
I dismissed the fire barrier and, without pausing, traced a different sigil—one I'd created by combining water and darkness elements. "Aqua Umbral."
A wall of what appeared to be black water materialized. Master Thorne's eyes widened slightly before he composed himself and sent a bolt of lightning toward it. The electricity, which would normally have devastated a water barrier, was absorbed and dissipated by the darkness component.
"Elemental hybridization," he murmured. "That's post-graduate level theory."
"Yet the practical application is relatively straightforward," I replied. "If you consider the wave-particle duality of magical energy and apply the correct interference patterns."
Master Thorne stared at me. "You speak in riddles, boy."
I shook my head. "Not riddles. Just science that this world hasn't discovered yet."
He sighed. "Whatever it is, keep it to yourself at the Academy, at least initially. Such innovation will draw attention—both admiration and envy."
"I understand the need for discretion," I assured him, though privately I wondered how long I could restrict myself to conventional methods. In my previous life, intellectual exploration had been my primary joy. Here, it might be my survival mechanism.
---
That evening, as frost painted delicate patterns on my bedroom window, I sat with Sylphi attempting to explain why I had to leave.
"But why can't I come too?" she asked, lower lip trembling. At six years old, her understanding of the world remained simple and direct.
"You're too young," I explained gently. "And you need to stay here to protect Mother and Father."
"I'm not strong like you," she protested.
I placed my hand on hers. "Strength comes in many forms, Syl. And you have talent. I can see it."
This was no empty reassurance. In the past two years, I'd begun teaching Sylphi some basic water magic, for which she showed remarkable aptitude. Where I had broad affinities across multiple elements, she had deep connection to water that surpassed my own abilities with that element.
"Watch," I said, producing a small sphere of water above my palm. "Can you feel the pattern of the magic?"
She nodded, her young face serious with concentration.
"Now, try to take control of it."
She extended her small hand, and I felt the water respond, pulling away from my magical influence and toward hers. The sphere wobbled between us before smoothly transitioning to hover above her palm.
"I did it!" she exclaimed.
"That's advanced transference," I told her. "Most children your age can barely create their own elemental manifestations, let alone assume control of another's."
Pride bloomed across her face before morphing into determination. "I'll practice every day while you're gone."
I smiled. "I know you will. And when I return for the spring equinox break, I'll bring you books—real magical theory from the Academy library."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
---
My mother found me later that night in my father's study, poring over a map of the kingdom.
"You should be resting," she admonished gently, placing a cup of herbal tea beside me. "Your journey begins at dawn."
"I need to understand the political landscape," I replied, pointing to the various territories. "Here, the Duchy of Ragna—Duke Galeron Ragna's territory surrounds our barony on three sides. To the east is the March of Eastfeld, which serves as a buffer between our kingdom and the Velmerian Empire."
My mother's lips pressed into a thin line at the mention of the Duke. "That man has bled our family for generations."
"Because of the diamond mine," I said. "The one on our land that should have made us wealthy."
She nodded, sitting beside me. "Your grandfather discovered the mine fifty years ago. The Duke of that time—Galeron's father—immediately imposed 'security levies' that consumed most of the profit. Each successive Baron Valistein has tried to challenge the arrangement. Each has failed."
I had pieced together much of this history during my childhood, but hearing it directly confirmed my suspicions. "And now Duke Ragna wants me at the Academy. Why?"
My mother's gaze turned distant. "Talented mages have value—as court wizards, military assets, even as political marriages. The Duke has three sons and two daughters. His youngest son, Cedric, is close to your age."
The implication was clear: if I succeeded at the Academy, the Duke would attempt to bind me to his family, ensuring my talents served his interests rather than my own family's.
"I won't let that happen," I stated firmly.
My mother's fingers brushed my cheek. "My brilliant boy. You carry such burdens for one so young." She hesitated. "Arthur, there's something I haven't told you."
I looked up, noting the unusual tension in her posture.
"Your affinity for darkness magic—it doesn't come from your father's line or mine. It's... rare. Darkness users are viewed with suspicion in many circles."
"Because of the Shadow Wars," I surmised, recalling historical references in my studies.
She nodded. "Three centuries ago, the Arch-Mage of Shadows nearly destroyed the Five Kingdoms. Since then, darkness magic has been associated with corruption and evil."
"That's illogical," I countered. "Elements themselves aren't moral entities."
"Logic rarely prevails over centuries of fear," she replied. "At the Academy, conceal this affinity if possible. Use it only in dire need."
I nodded, absorbing this warning. Another complication in an already complex situation.
---
Dawn broke with a bitter chill. The household gathered in the courtyard as servants loaded my trunks onto the Academy carriage that had arrived—a sleek, black vehicle emblazoned with the silver spire symbol, drawn by four midnight-black horses that snorted puffs of steam in the cold morning air.
The driver, a stern-faced man in Academy livery, stood impassively by the door.
My father clasped my shoulders. "Remember who you are, Arthur. A Valistein stands tall, even when the winds are against him."
"I will make you proud," I promised.
My mother embraced me tightly. "Be cautious, be clever, and above all, be safe."
When she released me, Sylphi rushed forward, pressing something into my hand. It was a small blue stone, polished smooth.
"I enchanted it," she whispered. "It's not much, but if you hold it tight and think of home, you'll feel my water magic."
I examined it, detecting the faint magical signature she'd managed to imbue—a remarkable achievement for her age. "It's perfect," I told her, tucking it into my inner pocket. "I'll keep it with me always."
The driver cleared his throat. "We must depart, young master. The journey to The Arcanum Spire takes three days, and winter storms approach from the north."
With final embraces and a composure that threatened to crack, I entered the carriage. As it pulled away, I watched my family grow smaller until they disappeared around a bend in the road.
For the first time in either of my lives, I felt truly alone.
---
The journey passed in contemplative silence. The driver made no attempt at conversation, and I used the time to organize my thoughts and strategies.
On the third day, as evening approached, the carriage crested a hill, and I saw it for the first time: The Arcanum Spire.
The massive tower dominated the landscape, reaching impossibly high into the sky. Unlike the crude stone constructions I'd seen elsewhere in this world, the Spire appeared almost fluid, as if molten glass had been frozen in mid-spiral. Lights pulsed within its semi-transparent walls, shifting through the spectrum in patterns that hinted at the magical workings inside.
Surrounding the Spire was a sprawling campus of smaller buildings, each architectural marvel seemingly defying conventional physics. Floating walkways connected elevated structures, while gardens bloomed despite the winter season, protected by shimmering magical domes.
"Magnificent," I whispered involuntarily.
"Impressive the first time," the driver commented, breaking his three-day silence. "Less so when you understand what happens inside."
I glanced at him with renewed interest. "You speak as someone with experience."
A bitter smile twisted his weathered face. "Class of '89. Didn't make it past the second year."
"What happened?"
He shrugged. "Couldn't afford the 'additional fees' that mysteriously appeared on my record. Now I drive their carriages instead of wielding their power." He fixed me with a hard stare. "You've got noble blood, but from what I hear, not much else. Watch yourself, boy."
Before I could respond, the carriage passed through an ornate gate into the Academy grounds. Students in various colored robes moved about, some casting curious glances our way.
The carriage halted before an imposing building of black marble. "Initiates' Hall," the driver announced. "End of the line."
As I stepped down from the carriage, a tall figure in midnight blue robes approached. "Arthur Valistein?" the man inquired, his voice carrying the crisp accent of the capital.
"Yes, sir."
"I am Professor Caelum, Director of Initiates." His piercing gaze reminded me of Magister Lysandra, who had recruited me. "You are the youngest initiate this term. Some might consider that an achievement. I suggest you do not."
"I understand, sir."
"Do you?" He raised an eyebrow. "The Arcanum Spire has stood for eight centuries. In that time, it has produced the kingdom's greatest mages, strategists, and leaders. It has also buried countless ambitious fools."
He gestured for me to follow him into the building. "Your examinations begin tomorrow. Tonight, you will be assigned temporary quarters. Based on your performance, you will either be placed in a proper dormitory or sent home."
As we entered the vast atrium of Initiates' Hall, I felt dozens of eyes tracking our movement. Some curious, some dismissive, some openly hostile.
"One final matter," Professor Caelum said, stopping abruptly. "I understand Duke Ragna has expressed personal interest in your education."
I kept my expression neutral. "So I've been told."
"The Duke's youngest son, Cedric, is also among this term's initiates. He has been... anticipating your arrival with great interest."
Before I could inquire further, a commotion erupted across the atrium. A circle of students had formed around what appeared to be a confrontation. At the center stood a boy perhaps three years my senior, with the distinctive auburn hair and sharp features of House Ragna.
"Speak of the devil," Professor Caelum muttered.
The Ragna boy—Cedric, presumably—had cornered a smaller student. As we watched, he traced a fire sigil in the air and sent a small flame dancing dangerously close to the other boy's face.
"I believe," Cedric announced loudly, clearly performing for his audience, "that commoners should demonstrate proper respect when addressed by their betters."
Professor Caelum sighed. "It seems you'll be meeting your sponsor's son sooner than expected." He raised his voice. "Lord Cedric! That is quite enough."
The circle of students parted as we approached. Cedric's flame vanished as he turned, his expression momentarily annoyed before smoothing into practiced charm.
"Professor Caelum," he acknowledged with a shallow bow. "I was merely explaining etiquette to our scholarship student."
"Save your educational efforts for your own studies," the professor replied coolly. "You'll need them." He gestured to me. "May I present Arthur Valistein, our newest initiate."
Cedric's eyes narrowed as he assessed me. "The baron's son? You're younger than I expected."
"Age is rarely the best measure of capability, Lord Cedric," I replied evenly.
A flash of annoyance crossed his features before he smiled—a predator's smile that never reached his eyes. "Indeed. My father speaks highly of your potential. I look forward to seeing it demonstrated."
The threat beneath his words was unmistakable.
"As do I," I responded, meeting his gaze steadily.
Professor Caelum cleared his throat. "Lord Cedric, I believe you have preparation for tomorrow's examinations. Arthur, come with me."
As we walked away, I could feel Cedric's stare boring into my back.
"You've made an enemy before even unpacking your trunks," Professor Caelum observed. "That may be a new record."
"He would have been my enemy regardless," I replied. "His father's interest in me guarantees it."
The professor gave me an appraising look. "Perhaps you're not as naive as you appear." He stopped before a plain wooden door. "Your temporary quarters. The examination begins at dawn. I suggest you rest."
After he departed, I entered the small, spartanly furnished room and sat on the narrow bed. From my pocket, I withdrew Sylphi's blue stone, feeling the comforting pulse of her water magic.
Outside my window, The Arcanum Spire loomed, its lights pulsing in complex patterns. Somewhere within its spiraling heights lay knowledge that could transform this world—and protect my family.
But first, I would have to survive.
I placed Sylphi's stone on the small bedside table and began methodically preparing for tomorrow's examination, organizing my thoughts and magical formulas with the precision I had once applied to mathematical equations in my previous life.
The game had begun, and I intended to win.