The night eventually ended.
Then came dawn. Pale and bright, filled with warmth and the hope for a new beginning. The strands of light fell upon the tall window of Cassian's room as though nothing had happened the day before.
The Academy bell rang loudly, awakening the students, marking the start of a new day.
I rose from my bed, body filled with stiffness. A result of not truly having slept. The ceiling I had stared at till dawn had, in the end, given no answers, just quiet mockery.
After spending the entire night in confusion, at the very least, I was sure of one thing: this is real. This isn't an illusion or hallucination.
"If it is, then it sure is a damn good one," I said with a sigh.
I arose from my bed and stretched my body outwards. Hastily took a shower and cleaned myself thoroughly. Opening the cupboard, I found multiple sets of uniforms. Beautifully tailored.
I dressed myself in the black and golden dressing with steady hands.
The wolf crest of House Argell attached to the central wall of the room faintly shone in the morning light, the wolf shining in gold when met with the Sun's touch.
Stepping into the corridor, I found it strangely attentive. As I walked through people, the tone of conversations shifted. People lowered their voices. Some laughed while others gave looks.
"They were laughing at me," clearly at least.
Two second-years near the stairwell glanced at me and then at each other, silently exchanging messages without words, but through their eyebrows and gestures.
One looked away after seeing me too quickly; the other watched longer than was considered polite. The two commoners were trying to measure if the man before them, me, had actually let yesterday's events happen.
By the time I reached the dining hall for breakfast, no seat had been left for me. No tray awaited me.
The students sat in groups, in herds, yet none had any space open for me.
Though the group of misfits, seemingly the original Cassian's acquaintances, had a seat at the edge of their table for me, I ignored them and moved ahead.
I stood there for half a second more than was required to realize that the omission was intentional.
Turning away, I picked up a tray, received my food, and took an empty seat by the side without making much noise.
The chatter of voices had grown dense. The Academy's architecture was magnificent, even the common dining area for students. High vaulted ceilings arched overhead, embedded with murals showing previous victories.
Long tables stretched across polished marble floors, divided loosely by year and rank. Chandeliers floated overhead, illuminating the room with warm, comforting light.
Then came the whispers clearly directed at me.
"I heard he knelt."
"They say he wouldn't even cast."
"House Argell must be furious."
"The only ones he could intimate were the commoners, now even they are gone."
Ignoring the insults directed towards me, I focused on eating. The food was warm and fresh.
Crusty bread with a hot and well-made soup served with a dish made of potatoes.
I ate slowly and soundly, without much thought.
A shadow then fell over my table.
Lifting my head up, I realized who it was. Not from my own memory but from the old Cassian's notes and descriptions of those around him.
Orvyn Delcrest stood there, posture rigid with purpose. Broad shoulders, carefully styled hair, the expression of a man about to deliver a speech he had rehearsed in his head.
Another extra character in the game, without any role. A second-year noble from a family of decent influence.
He did not sit.
"Argell," he said, loud enough for three nearby tables to hear. "We need to address what happened yesterday."
Of course we do.
I set my spoon down and met his gaze. "Then address it."
Several nearby conversations slowed down.
Orvyn's hand tightened at the lack of an apology or explanation. At the act of me not even knowing what I had done wrong.
"What you did," he continued, "was a disgrace to our year. To noble blood. A second-year forfeiting to a first-year without even testing him, what message does that send?"
"It was your mistake, picking a fight and dishonoring a junior, yet you not only did that but then ran away without doing anything, disgracing noble blood." he proceeded, "If you wanted to apologize, you should have done so before creating a show and before giving off a speech about the power of noble blood while burning the commoner's notebook."
A murmur of agreement rippled from two tables down. I did not look toward it; the sound alone sufficed.
The hall quieted around us.
I could feel eyes on the back of my neck.
Orvyn wasn't angry. He was calculating. This wasn't about honor. He just wanted Cassian to be taught a lesson.
"Our names carry responsibility," he went on. "When one of us behaves like that, it diminishes all of us. I will not have my family's standing jeopardized by your lack of resolve."
There it is.
He was cutting the rope publicly so no one would mistake him for being tied to me.
I held his gaze and let a few heartbeats pass before answering. "You're free to separate yourself from me."
Orvyn became unsettled from the simplicity of my answer.
Instead, I handed him the exit.
His eyes narrowed slightly. "It's more than separation. There are already rumors about your father's displeasure. A tattered house like Argell cannot afford public weakness. If you have any sense left, you should consider stepping down as heir before that decision is forced upon you."
The words were meant to sting. But they simply didn't.
I got up from a seat.
I stood slowly. Not abruptly. Just enough to shift the dynamic.
We were nearly the same height, but standing erased the small advantage he'd held looming over me.
"If distancing yourself protects your standing," I said calmly, "then you've done what you needed to do."
Then I proceeded to bow down.
"I apologize for my previous offenses. If I have offended you in any way in the past, I sincerely apologize." I said loudly and clearly.
Often, then not, the easiest way to escape from confrontation is by appealing to the ego of the opponent.
Orvyn's composure wavered for half a heartbeat before reforming.
For a fraction of a second, uncertainty flickered across his face.
Although still shocked, he nodded his head in acknowledgment and turned around and walked towards the exit.
When I sat back down, the atmosphere felt different. Not any kinder towards me. Just confused. The audience, expecting anger, shame, a fight, a scene, was met with nothing.
Instead, I finished my tea.
Outside, the courtyard air was fresh and faintly scented with wet stone from last night's mist. Students gathered in small groups, drifting toward the Academic Tower as the next bell approached.
The classes were starting.
Two scholarship students who had once appeared in the ledger with their names tied to small debts and larger fear; crossed the courtyard's far edge. When they noticed him, they did not flinch as before. Instead, they redirected their path in quiet avoidance, no longer intimidated but not yet emboldened.
A cluster of first-years passed, among them a boy I recognized as the guy sharing the room with Elden. That one looked at me directly, curiosity outweighing disdain.
The reactions were not completely inclined on one side.
That mattered.
Uniform hatred creates opposition. Fragmented perception leaves room for maneuver.
As the bell signaled the first lecture, I began walking towards the tower.
I reviewed the morning with clarity and took account the events which had proceeded till now.
In the academy, there were primarily 3 factions: The conservative nobles or elites, The new side nobles or new tradition following nobles and the commoners excluding the scholarship students.
The conservative nobles valued visible strength and tradition; to them, my forfeiture signaled weakness. Opportunists like Orvyn would migrate toward whichever name promised stability. The lower-tier students, once pressured by his former self, now watched from a cautious distance, unsure whether to fear him or reassess him.
The new tradition seekers mostly opposed me because of the old Cassian's ways, while most commoners hated me for the previous bullying and troubles that they had faced.
Faculty response remained unknown, thou it was most likely also in shreds. House Argell's reaction still remained to be seen.
I did not require allies yet.
Alliances forged in reaction to humiliation would be weak, born of desperation rather than alignment. What I required was comprehension. A map of loyalties. A sense of where ambition intersected insecurity. A clear understanding of who despised him out of principle and who merely followed prevailing winds.
The Academy was not merely a school. It was a training ground for power, and power followed patterns.
As I entered the shadow of the Academic Tower, I felt the shift settle fully into place . Every whisper here carried information. Every public slight revealed order.
Right now I didn't seek direct redemption but focused more on change.
The board was rearranging itself in response to his unexpected move. Pieces were sliding, some boldly, some cautiously.
I would not rush to reclaim a square.
First, I had to understand the entire field to play my move.