I stirred my oatmeal, watching steam curl from the lumpy surface. “You know what, I am sick and tired of getting my ass handed to me,” I grumbled, squirming as I chewed. Each swallow sent sharp pain through my jaw, radiating to my temple. Even Aunt Estrah’s healing spells couldn’t fully mend me after the beating I took. Some of my fractured bones needed time to properly set back into place. Apparently, I was in a coma for a week. Bastien’s punches really did hit like a bus, or at least like a heavy truck.

  “I know I’m still growing, but come on.” I pushed the bowl away, the ceramic scraping against wood. “First a sneaky bandit in the Valley, then a racist guard in Veridia, now an assassin in the Cathedral who would’ve absolutely wiped the floor with me, if not for my magic ring.” I brushed the silver band on my finger. I could barely sense any mana left inside it. “And that bastard Bastien…” I spat the name like a curse. “I trained for years, but I keep losing more fights than I win.”

  Luciana’s delicate fingers worked at peeling an orange, the citrus scent wafting across the table as tiny droplets of juice caught the morning light. "Well, you are the one who chose the path of enlightenment, right?” She glanced up through her dark lashes, her royal posture never faltering even in this casual moment. “Spending most of your days reading and training only every other day, which is not bad, mind you, but professional soldiers and knights practice daily from dawn till dusk… or so I was told. Besides, aren’t you the one who keeps saying you don’t even like fighting?”

  “I truly don’t,” I replied, shifting in my bed and wincing as my bruised ribs protested. “But if I want peace, I must prepare for war.” I paused, staring at Luciana’s hands as she separated another glistening segment with practiced precision. “Maybe I should become so strong that people freeze in fear after just glancing at me,” I said half-jokingly.

  Luciana chuckled, a melodic sound that somehow eased my pain. “Maybe you should’ve been born a dragon, eh, Zar? Although, to be fair, if you grow up like your Uncle Florent, you’ll be pretty intimidating soon enough. You just need a little patience.” She handed me a slice of orange, its sweet-tart scent making my mouth water despite my aching jaw. Incidentally, after she herself recovered, she spent several days beside my bed. It was so touching, I now absolutely couldn’t shoo her away, not that I wanted to. It was getting a bit lonely since Aunt Estrah and Uncle Flo went back to work.

  I nodded, accepting the slice of orange and biting in. “Patience is a virtue I am still lacking,” I admitted, juice dribbling down my chin. I dabbed it away with my sleeve, picturing how furious Mistress Cecile would be if she saw me now. That made me smile. “So, I’ve decided to join the knight course. I think receiving more structured training and sparring with a greater number of different opponents will be good for me.”

  Luciana paused, tilting her head. “What about your ambitions to become a priest?”

  “Oh, I am still doing that,” I said, leaning back into my pillow, enjoying its feathery embrace.

  Luciana blinked, her dark lashes fluttering against her porcelain skin. “Wait, so you’re double majoring in theology and knight courses, but you have such skill with magic. Professor Irleophiss certainly won’t be happy.” She leaned forward, her voice fading to a whisper. “Do you want to make a dragon angry? I’ve read that they can destroy a whole city in a day if they simply get annoyed.”

  “Facts,” I said with a half-smile, “this is why I am still doing that too.”

  Luciana’s eyes widened, sunlight catching those rare ruby flecks in her irises. “You are going… to triple major?” Her voice rose an octave. “Is that even possible?”

  “It actually is,” I said, tracing a pattern in the condensation on my water glass. “Many people double major, so classes are spread out to accommodate them. Future priests might study healing magic if they are capable or join a knight course, if they seek membership in certain holy orders. The same applies to other combinations. Knights who are mana sensitive often practice combat magic or study theology to join the ranks of paladins.” I gave her a pointed look. “Come to think of it, nobles have to take an exclusive lordship course, don’t they? So it is probably more common among the nobility, I imagine.”

  Luciana twisted a strand of blonde hair around her finger. “Hmm, not really. Aleamme only took the lordship course. Most of my family didn’t bother with double majors either. Instead, they hired private tutors for magic and sword lessons.” Her gaze trailed off, preoccupied with something. She bit her lower lip, leaving tiny indentations before she continued, a small dimpled pout forming. “Well, if you’re going to spend all your time studying and training, you won’t have time to entertain me anymore.”

  “I could still use the money that comes from entertaining you,” I said reassuringly.

  Luciana’s eyes glittered with something beyond their usual royal composure. “Oh, you certainly don’t have to worry about that anymore.” She leaned forward, the sunlight catching on the gold embroidery of her sleeve. “After you saved my life at the risk of your own, I’ve set aside a reward for you from my personal treasury. Suffice it to say, it’s substantial.”

  Her fingers fidgeted and hesitated. “Actually, while you were lying there, bandaged and asleep, I spent hours talking with your Uncle Florent. He told me about wolfkin customs, stories of your parents, and how he met them.” She inhaled deeply, her shoulders rising beneath her silken dress. “So, I was wondering… will you accept my blood oath?”

  My jaw dropped, ears rising in shock. What was she thinking? A princess of the realm formally acknowledging a life debt to a mere commoner, especially a beastkin, we are not exactly popular these days in Veridia. It would be scandalous. The king’s advisors would demand her immediate removal from the line of succession. All because of some misguided and juvenile separation anxiety? No. She’s far too clever for that.

  “I was just doing my duty as your employee…” I mumbled, my voice coarse as sandpaper.

  “Cut the crap,” she snapped, her eyes hard and glimmering with something desperate. “You risked your life because we’re friends. Are we not?” Her fingers twisted the embroidered edge of her sleeve, knuckles growing white. “Giving an oath would make me feel less guilty for putting you in danger. Obviously, you need to think it over, but have no doubt, I want to do it.” She exhaled, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “In fact, I’ve spent every night this week pacing my chambers, thinking about it.”

  “Okay, but you cut the crap, too.” I met her gaze directly, my wolfkin ears twitching forward. “You must understand what it will do to your position as royalty?”

  “You’re right about that,” she said, lips twisting in a sardonic smile. “It would indeed be problematic, probably put me dead last in the line of succession, but this way, I doubt anyone will bother trying to assassinate me again." Her smile faded, replaced by a shadow that darkened her features. "Truth is, I don’t have the resources or inclination to investigate who wanted me dead. I just want to attend the Academy and enjoy my life here without a heartbeat of fear. Staying in the succession line has always been stressful, dangerous, and lonely. This way, I might taste real freedom for the first time.”

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  Finding her attitude reasonable, I leaned forward and switched to a more mellow tone. "So, what will you do here? Still take the lordship course?" I gestured at her signet ring. "What’s the point if you’re not seeking a position of power anymore?"

  “Glad you asked,” she said, straightening her spine with a regal flourish that made her golden hair shimmer across her shoulders. “I’m joining the knight course too! After what happened, I realized I want to be able to defend myself, instead of always relying on others. It feels like the right path for me to take."

  “Huuh?” That answer absolutely caught me off guard.

  She reached across the table, tapping my bandaged head with a manicured finger. “So get healthy, because next time you train, I want to join you.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “And I am going to bring Willame. He might teach you a trick or two about fighting. Your Uncle Florent is undoubtedly strong,” she mimicked flexing muscles, “but he never taught you swordsmanship or how to wear proper armor, did he?”

  She paused, her smile faltering, pain flickering in her eyes. “You know, Professor Irleophiss reminded me of something. My mother was a really strong knight. She died during the Ashen War defending the Morne Isles… After she was gone, nobody really encouraged me to follow in her footsteps, and I never found the courage to do so myself. But getting my hands on an orichalcum blade, being attacked near the anniversary of her death, and literally dying for a moment there…” Her voice wavered. “It feels like fate is screaming in my face. I have to wonder if I’m alive now for a reason.”

  “I totally see how one might think the way you do.” My fingers traced the edge of my bandage, still damp with healing salve. “At some point, coincidences form a pattern, something woven by forces beyond us.” I gave her the warmest smile I could muster. “Just don’t let it get to your head. We are not gods, we are their children at best, playthings at worst. We can’t truly comprehend their plans for us. Our lot is to keep growing so that maybe one day we can.”

  Luciana’s lips curved back into a smile that reached her eyes. “Yes, you are going to be an excellent priest, Zar.” She reached across the table and touched my wrist where fur met skin. “Let’s both grow and see where that path will lead us.”

  The following week, I focused on healing. Each morning, I’d force my stiff limbs into increasingly wider arcs, convincing myself the burning sensation was mending my wounds. Once Aunt Estrah gave me a clean bill of health, it was time to get back to real training. Sometimes I would train in our cobblestone courtyard, which stayed surprisingly warm even during winter. Mana crystals must have been buried underground, heating the soil from below. Other times, we trained either inside or behind Luciana’s sprawling mansion, in the small arena where I sparred with her brother, which seemed like forever ago.

  We started with basic strength and stamina exercises, which Luciana certainly needed, but so did I after staying in bed for several weeks. “You have to do a lot more push-ups before we can move to more advanced stuff,” I said to Luciana, who lay sprawled on the ground, her golden hair plastered to her forehead, her chest heaving. Sweat had soaked through her strawberry-colored pantsuit at the collar and under the arms, the fabric clinging to her slender frame. The outfit, more suited for horseback riding than combat training, was already smudged with dirt at the knees.

  “I hate it,” she groaned, her aristocratic accent slipping as she gasped for air. “Explain how this torture helps me with fighting. Use words I can understand.”

  I extended my arm in a straight punch, my russet fur rippling over the lean muscle. “See this movement?” I traced a claw along the back of my arm. “That muscle here is called the triceps. It is responsible for straightening your arm. Now, when you do push-ups, you do the same movement but push back your own weight from the ground. If you can’t even lift yourself, how could you possibly drive your fist through someone’s guard? Oh, and if you want to thrust a sword with any real impact, the same muscles are used.”

  The explanation lit a fire in her eyes. Luciana dropped back into position, her aristocratic fingers splayed against the ice-cold dirt, golden hair falling in damp ringlets around her flushed face. She pushed upward with a grunt that seemed too primal for a princess, joints cracking like kindling. Her determination kindled something in me as well. I couldn’t afford to get left behind. Soon enough, I was doing weighted push-ups… with Luciana sitting on my back like it was an old kung-fu movie.

  Once she could do two dozen push-ups in perfect form and run five kilometers with steady breath, we graduated to unarmed combat. I drilled her in various defensive moves, how to twist an attacker’s wrist, and where to drive her knuckles for maximum effect to topple men twice her size. At that point, Uncle Flo and Willaime began tutoring us separately, but fate eventually tangled their paths. Their eyes met across the training yard, sizing each other up, before forming a bond over their shared struggles with tutelage.

  Uncle Flo helped Luciana with acrobatics and dodging exercises, forcing her to duck and roll across the packed dirt for hours, all part of the fluid wolfkin fighting style that suited her surprisingly well. Meanwhile, Willaime’s calloused hands guided mine around leather-wrapped sword hilts. Although I still preferred a spear for its long reach, I conceded that narrow castle corridors made such weapons impractical. So I focused on using a pair of short swords, mixing in what Uncle Flo had taught me about fighting with daggers. Willaime himself moved with the deadly precision of a lifetime soldier, the short sword flickering like lightning while the greatsword crashed like thunder. It was truly inspirational to watch.

  It wasn’t too long before we started sparring with Luciana in earnest. She opted to train with a long sword, her fingers curling around the leather-wrapped hilt with growing confidence, clearly preparing for the day she’d wield her orichalcum blade. I alternated between my spear, which whistled through the air with satisfying precision, and short swords that felt increasingly like extensions of my fur-covered arms.

  At first, our sessions resembled elaborate dances rather than combat, the clack of wooden practice weapons echoing across the courtyard. But as winter's frost gave way to early spring buds, Luciana’s dedication and efforts paid off. Within two months, her blade found openings in my defense that I thought didn’t exist. By the time the first wildflowers dotted the meadows, we clashed as equals, steel ringing against steel, neither giving ground. Was this what real talent looked like? It felt unfair. Although I suppose my form improved as well, and I hit another growth spurt that stretched me to the height of a thirteen-year-old human boy, or as Uncle Flo joked, “the perfect height to headbutt a dwarf in the nose.”

  This should help me blend in at the Academy, where most students arrived as freshly minted teenagers. Although by the time I finish in three years' time, I’d probably tower over my classmates like a full-grown adult among children, leaving them all behind in the awkward dust of adolescence.

  Oh, speaking of awkward. Something else happened that spring, I accidentally walked in on Uncle Flo and Aunt Estrah in a rather… compromising position. Specifically, tangled in each other’s arms under the sheets of Uncle Flo’s bed. The scent of crushed lavender hung in the air, mingling with something muskier.

  “Well, sure glad that is finally happening. Hope you both find happiness with each other,” I said, my ears flattening against my skull as I backed away, pulling the door firmly shut, and vacating the house to stroll around town, giving them the privacy they deserved.

  The cobblestone streets of town welcomed me with their familiar rhythm beneath my paws. I wandered aimlessly until the air turned dense with coal smoke and the ring of hammers on metal. The smiting quarter, where sweat-drenched craftsmen with soot-blackened aprons bent over glowing forges, their muscles rippling as they shaped red-hot steel. It was there, watching sparks cascade like falling stars, that an idea crystallized: I needed a proper weapon of my own. I explored each renowned forge, fingers moving along the polished hilts and gleaming blades on display, until I found a small shop with a sign bearing a silver anvil wrapped in thorny vines that called to me.

  The next chapter will mark the conclusion of the Academy Town and Luciana's friendship mini-story arc. After that, we are going into the Academy proper, where new friends and new enemies are waiting for Zar.