Ryn made a very proud look.
Then, after a pause, he leaned back and stretched out his arms over his head, wincing midway through.
I couldn't help but notice.
"You still sore?"
"Hm? From Ilya? Yeah, it feels like my ribs are screaming for some separation."
"I still want to know more about this giant hand you were talking about."
"You can ask her yourself one day. Preferably while I'm far away and not at risk from being hit by it."
"I'll consider it."
He rolled his shoulders and looked around the cafeteria.
"Speaking of, what elective have you got first? I've got—"
Before Ryn finished his sentence, it looked like he realised something and decided not to share it.
He then proceeded to look away.
Which caused me to stare.
He looked even farther away.
"Ryn."
"What?"
"What elective do you have first?"
He mumbled something.
"I wasn't able to hear that."
"Aetheric Culinary Arts!"
I opened my eyes wide as if the noise had pried them open.
Then I closed my eyes.
A silence settled between us.
I opened them again, but not as wide as before.
"I still can't believe you picked that."
"Whatever, man. Trust me. You're missing out."
I couldn't hold back my laughter. "On what?! Soup theory?"
"You laugh now, but when I learn how to make food that restores Aether and tastes good, you'll come crawling."
"I cannot imagine a scenario in which I would look forward to your cooking."
"That's because you lack vision."
"I call it self-preservation."
"Same thing, just badly branded."
I looked at him.
He looked back with absolute confidence.
There have been many mysteries in this world since I became part of it. The Codex. Alaric. The Memory-Relic. The true nature of Aether.
But Ryn's choice of Culinary Arts might remain one of the most difficult to understand.
He jabbed his spoon toward me.
"Also, if we're stuck on an island for twenty-four hours, who do you think will be useful? The guy who can cook or the guy who says information density over soup?"
"I can create a fire for soup theory."
"You can burn food. That's not the same as cooking."
"I know how to utilise heat transfer."
"That might be the most threatening thing you've ever said."
"..."
"SO, what elective do you have first?"
"Anti-beast Tactics."
"Ohhh, right, the fancy beast-hunting class—"
Before Ryn could finish his sentence, a voice appeared directly behind me.
"You've got ABT as well? That means you're with me then."
Ryn flinched so hard his spoon clattered against the table.
I turned
Lo and behold, Taron Caelvarin stood behind us, smiling as if he had not just manifested beside our table like an excessively cheerful ghost.
His uniform was immaculate, as always, but worn with a looseness that made it seem as though the Academy had only suggested formality to him and he had politely declined some of it. His dark auburn hair was slightly scruffy, his expression open, and his posture relaxed yet dignified.
Beside me, Ryn's entire body posture had changed.
He wasn't hostile exactly. Though if someone were to describe him that way, it would be hard to argue against them. But he was certainly alert.
The way a street dog spots someone holding food in one hand and a stick in the other.
"Taron," I said while nodding.
"Kael," he replied brightly.
"How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough to hear something about 'soup theory,' but not long enough to understand it. Which is disheartening."
Ryn narrowed his eyes. "You just sneak up on people often, or is that a noble hobby?"
Taron looked delighted.
"Kael, I didn't know your friend could talk!"
"Let me guess. It's a shock to a noble that a commoner can talk."
"You've never talked to me properly."
"That was intentional."
"I see... glad to know that we're now bonding."
Ryn looked at me.
I looked back and shrugged.
I was, annoyingly, somewhat used to Taron by now.
That didn't make him less surprising, but it now meant that surprise had become the expected, which was conceptually annoying... to me.
Taron gestured to the seat beside me.
"Mind if I sit?"
Ryn opened his mouth.
"If you want to," I said before he could answer.
Ryn looked betrayed.
Taron sat anyway.
"Great."
"That was not permission from him," Ryn said.
Taron leaned slightly forward, smiling across the table at Ryn.
"I'll grow on you. I can feel it. Just wait. We're going to be good friends."
Ryn stared at him.
"I highly doubt that."
"That's fine. Doubt only adds flavour to a future friendship."
"What does that even mean?"
"No idea," Taron said. "I just thought it sounded nice in my head."
I took another spoonful of the meat stew.
This was my life now.
Taron turned to me. "So, ABT."
"What's ABT?" Ryn asked harshly.
"Anti-Beast Tactics, but shorter," I said
"You looking forward to it?" Taron asked.
"... I'm reserving judgement."
"So that means no, I guess."
"It means I am reserving my judgment."
"It means no, but in Kael."
Ryn pointed at him. "Ugh, I hate that you understood Kael-talk."
Taron's smile widened.
"See? Progress."
Ryn looked increasingly distressed by the possibility.
Taron rested one elbow on the table, glancing between us with effortless comfort.
For a few minutes, the conversation stayed light. Taron complained that the cafeteria fruit was "too polished to be real and trustworthy to consume." Ryn argued that noble fruit probably came with some lineage certificate. Taron claimed House Caelvarin apples were trained from birth to be impressive, although I assume he was joking. Hopefully. I didn't say anything during that time because both of them seemed to be enjoying the absurdity of the conversation without needing my assistance.
Then Taron's expression shifted.
Only slightly.
He was still smiling, but it was sharper now.
"So," he said casually, "do you both know what the next exam is going to be?"
Ryn froze.
Not fully.
But enough.
My spoon paused halfway to my mouth.
Taron noticed both reactions.
It was too obvious to miss.
Before either of us could respond, he leaned in slightly and said, as if sharing the day's weather, "I hear it's going to be on an island."
Ryn stared.
I slowly lowered my spoon.
Taron continued.
"Everyone-for-themselves type of exam. Survival, points, beasts, students, all that dramatic Academy nonsense that the faculty love to spring on us."
A beat of silence passed.
Ryn's face went through several calculations at once, none of which were subtle.
I had known this already.
Ryn had known this already.
But Taron did not know that we knew.
This made the fact that he was giving us the information even more significant.
Very significant.
Why would an Heir of one of the Ten Great Houses casually share important exam information with two commoners?
The charitable interpretation was that Taron liked us.
The cautious one was that he wanted something.
The realistic option was that it was somewhere in between, probably with additional complications that I would dislike later.
Ryn looked at me, clearly expecting me to say something.
I sighed, but not heavily.
More in acceptance.
Then looked at Taron.
"How did you get hold of this information?"
Taron leaned back and flashed the sort of charismatic smile that probably caused minor social unrest in certain circles.
"Hey, hey, hey. I'm an Heir of the Ten Great Houses, you know. I have my ways. Hehehe."
Ryn stared.
"Did you just say 'hehehe' out loud?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I thought it'd sound cool."
"You're deeply unsettling."
"Really? That's odd. I've been told I'm charming."
"By who?"
"Many people."
"Were they paid?"
"Maybe some of them."
Taron had probably said that as a joke, but I could tell there was a small level of sadness in the way he said that, one he tried to hide, but I noticed.
After a few seconds, I rubbed the bridge of my nose and decided to continue the conversation.
Taron looked somewhat pleased.
"So, what are you planning to do?" He asked.
Ryn immediately looked at me in anticipation.
I looked at the three cups still sitting between us.
The cracked cup.
The island cup.
The small heir cup.
Then I shrugged.
"There isn't much to do. Not without more information."
Taron's face fell slightly in exaggerated disappointment.
"That's a boring answer."
"It is a realistic one."
"Still boring."
Ryn straightened at once.
"That's just how Kael is. You got a problem with that?"
Taron looked at him.
Then smiled.
Not mockingly.
Not smugly.
Genuinely.
Ryn's eyes narrowed.
"What?"
"Nothing," Taron said.
"Then stop smiling at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you're pleased."
"I am pleased."
"Why?"
"Because you defended you're friend."
"I didn't defend him."
"You absolutely did."
"I was just correcting you."
"Hmm, sounds awfully similar to defending him."
Ryn opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
I could practically see his arsenal of insults fighting to be first.
Before one could escape, the cafeteria lights pulsed once.
Then a clear chime rang across the room.
Every conversation simmered.
The sound did not come from any single location. It moved through the walls, the ceiling, the air itself, carried by the Academy's announcement array. Even the noble tables near the windows went still.
A calm, official voice filled the cafeteria.
"Attention, all first-year students."
The room sharpened.
Ryn went silent.
Taron's smile shifted.
I felt my spine straighten before I consciously chose to move.
"All first-year students are to proceed immediately to the main assembly hall. Attendance is mandatory."
A second chime followed.
Then silence.
For one moment, no one moved.
Then the cafeteria erupted.
Students stood. Chairs scraped. Voices rose. Commoners looked to one another in alarm, nobles exchanged glances that were far less surprised than they should have been, and the entire room changed from lunchtime noise to exam panic in the space of three breaths.
Ryn looked at me.
I looked at Taron.
Taron was already grinning.
Not with mockery.
With anticipation.
He stood smoothly, adjusting his cuffs as if walking into a dangerous announcement was simply another form of entertainment.
"Well," he said, turning that bright, reckless smile toward me, "should we go and get that extra information of yours?"