The knock came exactly three times.
Elias was already awake.
He hadn't slept—not really. He had drifted in and out of half-dreams of white rooms and gold plants.
The knock came again. Louder this time.
"Efficiency Audit." a voice called from the other side of the door. "Open up."
Elias sat up slowly, forcing his breathing to be normal. He ran his hand through his tangled green hair, letting it fall messily over his eyes.
He crossed the room and slid the bolt free.
Three figures stood in the corridor. Two guards in royal black, amours. Between them, a man in ash-gray robes marked with the sign of the Crown's Assessors. His eyes flicked over Elias.
"Name," the assessor said.
"Elias Thornbloom. Second-year."
"House?"
"Fallen."
The word tasted bitter. Elias let it.
The assessor nodded once, as if confirming a tally already made. "You are aware of the Mid-Winter Efficiency Sweep."
"Yes, sir."
"You will remain still. You will answer only what is asked."
Elias stepped back to allow them entry.
The guards spread out immediately. One checked beneath the bed. Another ran a gloved hand along the shelves, both looking for hidden enchantments or contraband charms. The assessor moved more slowly, fingers brushing objects as if weighing their worth by touch alone.
"Minimal personal effects." the man murmured. "Clothing within allowance. No unauthorized spell."
His gaze landed on the narrow desk by the window.
Elias's spine tightened.
The assessor opened the top drawer.
Inside lay a thin bundle of pressed leaves, wrapped carefully in faded cloth. Old. Dry. Each leaf had been preserved very well, veins intact, edges unbroken. Anyone with magic could feel the faint, signatures coming from them.
The assessor lifted the bundle.
"What is this?"
Elias kept his face neutral. "Samples. From my family's orchards. It was given to me by my parents."
"Sentiment is not an efficient use of space."
The assessor turned the bundle over, eyes narrowing slightly. "These leaves have been treated. Preservation magic."
"It's the lowest basic level of preservation magic." Elias said. "Self-cast. Non-renewing."
Silence stretched.
The assessor studied Elias more closely now—not just his room, not just the object, but him.
The messy hair.
His stillness.
"Your parents were the Stabilizers." the man said casually.
Elias's heart thudded once. Hard.
"Yes."
"And yet you show no… ambition."
Elias lowered his gaze, the picture of meek compliance. "Ambition leads to inefficiency."
A pause.
Then the assessor returned the bundle to the drawer and closed it.
The guard with the rod stepped forward. "Hold out your right hand. Do not resist the scan."
Elias felt his stomach drop.
His right hand was the one that he had used on Cassian. It was still buzzing with the resonance of the Gilded Ivy.
If the rod picked up the Prince's signature, or even the trace of high-level stabilization, he was as good as dead.
He held out his hand. He used the trick he'd perfected over the night. He curbed his own magic. He pulled his energy deep into his marrow, leaving nothing on the surface.
The glass rod touched his palm. The blue liquid inside flickered, turned a dull, murky gray, and stayed there.
"Mana-output: 1.1," the mage said, his voice dripping with disgust. "The boy is barely a mage at all. A waste of academy resources."
The Auditor marked the ledger with a dismissive stroke.
"Note: Retain for manual labor only. Efficiency rating: Zero. Clean your room, boy. The King does not tolerate filth," the Auditor snapped. "You are dismissed."
The guards turned in unison and filed out.
The door shut.
Only then did Elias let out the breath he'd been holding.
A mark. Meh
He sat back on the edge of his bed, fingers digging into the mattress. His body felt heavy with exhaustion—but his mind was razor-sharp now.
They are watching.
Not because he was powerful.
Because he was useful.
✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯
The afternoon sun coming in through the library window was hot.
Elias chose a table deep between the stacks, far from windows. He selected a book at random—Foundational Theories of Magic—and opened it without reading a word.
He didn't have to wait long.
Mina slid into the seat across from him, her expression already sharp with curiosity. "You look like hell." she murmured. "Which means something interesting happened. Still going at it with your man?"
"Good morning to you too."
"You survived the Audit."
"Barely."
Her eyes flicked over him. "You didn't sleep."
"No."
"That's new."
Elias turned a page he wasn't reading. "I have a question."
Mina leaned back slightly. "That's even worse."
He hesitated—saying it aloud would make it real.
"What makes someone loyal? Like how can you emotionally bind someone to you?" he asked instead.
Mina blinked. Then smiled faintly. "Depends. Fear, gratitude, affection, shared secrets. Why? Do you really have a man?"
"Hypothetically."
"Of course."
"If someone powerful," Elias continued carefully, "needed reassurance. If they were… unstable."
Her smile faded.
"You're not talking about yourself."
"No."
Mina studied him for a long moment, her pink eyes looking as if they could see through him.
"You're a bit sharper today."
"I had a night."
"I can tell." She tapped a finger against the table.
Silence.
She continued slowly
"Affection works best when it feels unearned. When the person believes you chose them, specifically. Loyalty born of necessity doesn't really work. Loyalty born of intimacy is much slower."
"That sounds dangerous."
"It is." She tilted her head. "Who are you thinking about?"
"No one." Elias lied.
Mina sighed. "If you're going to play social alchemy, you need proximity. Shared weakness. You let them see you when they think no one else does."
Elias's mind flashed white—soft rugs, gold veins fading, breath mingling in the dark.
"And," Mina added quietly, "you have to decide how far you're willing to go before it stops being a tactic."
Elias closed the book.
"That won't be a problem." He might as well spice up his life a bit.
But Mina didn't look at all convinced.
✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯
The Great Hall was full.
Students lined the tiers, whispering amongst themselves.
The banners of the Crown hung heavy and unmoving, their symbol catching the light.
Elias stood near the back.
Cassian stood at the front.
He looked beautiful as ever. White hair pulled back, silver-threaded robes draped perfectly over his frame. No sign of the agony from the night before. No hint of weakness.
A perfect heir.
Zayne stood beside him, smiling.
The King's voice echoed through the hall, smooth as ever. He spoke of efficiency. Of excellence. Of pruning rot before it spread.
Elias did not look at Cassian.
He didn't need to.
The speech ended. Applause followed.
Obligatory.
Elias began to walk toward the exit, but a hand caught his shoulder. It wasn't Mina. The grip was too strong.
"A Zero, Elias? Truly?"
Zayne stood there, his entourage lingering a few paces back. He looked down at Elias with a mixture of amusement and genuine curiosity.
"My father's mages are very thorough. To get a Zero, you must be truly empty... or very, very good at hiding."
"I'm just a gardener, Your Highness." Elias said, dropping into a shallow, perfect bow.
He made sure to let his eyes linger on Zayne's boots—the submissive stance of a commoner.
"A gardener who survives my brother's-magic." Zayne mused. He reached out, his fingers grazing the collar of Elias's tunic. "You never did answer me about that tea. Tomorrow at four. My private garden."
"I have classes—"
"You got a Zero mark." Zayne countered, his voice dropping. "You have nothing but time. Don't make me send the Auditors to fetch you, Elias. It would be such an... inefficient use of my evening."
Zayne patted Elias's cheek—a condescending, lingering touch—and walked away.
Elias stood in the middle of the hall, his face burning. He felt the eyes of the other students on him. He felt the King's gaze from the dais.
But most of all, he felt the plan clicking into place.