When Lore found his father in the reception hall, Lord Damien looked different. His usual stone-faced expression had cracked into something that might have been pride. Magistra Moonwhisper was talking to him about the test results.
"Triple essence affinity." She shook her head. "In a thousand years, we've only seen it seven times."
Seven times. Great. That'll get everyone's attention, 'Lore thought, keeping his face blank while other noble parents tried to pretend they weren't listening.
Lord Damien nodded. "House Steinfeld will pay for whatever extra training he needs."
"He starts classes today," the Magistra said. "I'll teach him Form essence myself since it matches my specialty." She looked down at Lore. "I think we'll learn a lot from each other."
After they worked out the details, Lord Damien got ready to leave. He knelt down to Lore's level, which was weird for a man who never bent for anyone.
"Remember what we talked about," he said quietly. "Being special means people notice you. Some of that attention won't be good."
"I know, Father."
With that, Lord Damien left, and Lore was officially stuck at the Academy.
His first class was Essence Fundamentals in a bright room with tall windows. Magister Aldric was a fat, cheerful man who practically bounced when he saw Lore walk in.
"Triple affinity! Amazing!" he said, way too loud. "Sit wherever you like, young lord."
Lore picked a seat in the second row and looked around. About twenty kids, all from noble families if their fancy clothes meant anything. The room smelled like old books and something electric that hung around when people used essence a lot.
Most kids were whispering and staring at him. A dark-haired boy in the front row kept turning around to study him with calculating eyes. Two girls by the window were talking behind their hands, looking at him like he was some kind of exotic animal. In the back corner, a pale blonde girl was hunched over her desk like she was trying to disappear.
"Today we have a new student," Magister Aldric announced, clapping his hands so hard blue sparks shot out. "Lord Lore Steinfeld just tested with triple essence affinity."
The whole class rippled like someone had thrown a stone in a pond. The calculating boy's eyes went narrow. One of the whispering girls actually gasped out loud. A few kids shifted in their seats like they suddenly realized they were sitting next to something dangerous.
Lore kept his face neutral, but he filed away every reaction. 'The dark-haired boy would need watching.. ambitious types were always trouble. The gasping girl might be useful. The uncomfortable ones would probably leave him alone, which could work in his favor.'
The lesson started with basic theory, stuff Lore had already read about years ago. He answered questions when called on, but not too many, and never showed off too much. No point in making enemies on day one.
When they moved to practical work, though, he let himself shine a little. The exercise was simple: make a ball of essence in your palm and hold it steady for thirty seconds.
"The goal," Magister Aldric said, making a perfect blue ball of Flux essence float above his hand, "is to keep it the same size and shape. Most of you will find it falls apart after a few seconds."
Around the room, kids stuck out their hands and tried. Most managed weak little wisps that faded fast. The Dark-haired boy made a decent red flameball of Force essence that lasted almost twenty seconds before it popped. A few others did okay for a bit before their concentration broke.
Frustrated sighs and disappointed mutters filled the room. Lore could smell the metallic tang of overworked essence.
When his turn came, Lore held out his hand and focused using the concentration techniques he'd developed through years of practice. A perfect red flameball of Force essence appeared above his palm, solid and steady. He held it for the full thirty seconds without even trying hard.
The room went quiet. He could hear quills stopping mid-scratch, robes rustling as everyone leaned forward.
Without breaking focus, Lore switched to Flux essence. The red flameball dissolved as brilliant blue water energy formed into a spinning orb that rotated in place like clockwork.
"Incredible control," Magister Aldric said, and he actually sounded amazed. "Most kids your age can barely focus for a few seconds, and you just did it with two different essences."
From the corner of his eye, Lore saw the black-haired boy's jaw tighten. The blonde girl in the corner was staring at him with her mouth open. Several other students were whispering excitedly.
Years of staying perfectly still while waiting for the perfect shot had taught him patience these kids couldn't imagine. What seemed impossible to them felt as easy as breathing.
Morning went on with more classes: History of the Four Territories, Basic Martial Forms, and Court Etiquette. Each one followed the same pattern – Lore showed enough skill to impress without revealing how much he really knew.
By lunch, he'd positioned himself as the talented new kid who wasn't completely stuck up. The dining hall buzzed with talk about him, whispers following him through the food line.
After classes, heading to the library, Lore spotted the blonde girl from his morning class sitting alone in an alcove near the entrance. She had a thick book open, but her shoulders were shaking, and he could see tear tracks on her cheeks.
This wasn't bullying. This was just a kid having a bad day. She was struggling with something in the book, little flickers of essence sparking around her fingers as she tried some kind of exercise.
Lore walked over carefully, noting how she jumped when his shadow fell across her page.
"Flux essence botanical applications," he said, reading the book's title. "That's pretty advanced for a first-year."
She looked up with red, puffy eyes, clearly recognizing him as the famous new student. "I... I have to prove I belong here," she whispered. "My family are essence farmers, but I can barely make a puddle. Everyone says I'm wasting a spot that should go to someone with real talent."
Lore studied her more carefully. There was essence flickering around her fingertips as she talked – untrained and unconscious, but definitely there. She had power, just blocked by fear and self-doubt.
"I'm Lore Steinfeld," he said, sitting down across from her.
"Abigail Grayson," she replied, still looking shocked that he'd bother talking to her. "Everyone knows who you are. Triple affinity."
"House Grayson," Lore said, connecting the name to stuff he'd read. "Your family runs the southern farming territories. The essence-enhanced crops from your lands feed half the kingdom."
Abigail's eyes went wide. "You know about my family's work?"
"Knowledge is power," he said with a shrug. "Especially about people with unique talents."
"I don't have unique talents," she mumbled, looking back at her book. "I can barely make water move in a straight line. My parents are disappointed, the other students ignore me, and the teachers barely put up with me."
Lore watched how her essence flickered when she talked about her family – there was definitely power there, just locked up by her own doubts.
"Power shows up in different ways," he said carefully. "Some essence abilities only come out under the right conditions. Maybe you just haven't found the right trigger."
They spent the rest of library time talking. He learned about her family's work, her struggles at the Academy, and her genuine love for plant studies. By the time they left, he'd established what she'd see as friendship, though he knew it was more complicated than that – an asset, definitely, but also maybe the first real connection he'd made in this new life.
The day's last class was Advanced Essence Theory, taught by Magistra Moonwhisper herself in a round room where shadows seemed to move on their own. The elven woman taught completely differently from Magister Aldric – she was precise, demanding, and mesmerizing when she demonstrated Form essence manipulation.
"The mind," she explained, creating an illusion of flowering vines that grew and twisted through the air above her palm, "is both the source and the limit of your power. What you believe possible shapes what you can do."
Throughout the lesson, Lore noticed the Magistra watching him, especially when he did the assigned exercises with his usual precision. The smell of magic was stronger here, mixed with the sharp clarity of Form essence and something else – an undercurrent of power that ran deeper than he could fathom.
As class ended, she gestured for him to stay behind while the other students filed out.
"Your control is remarkable for someone so young," she said once they were alone. "Almost like you've had years of practice beyond your age."
'Careful. She sees more than most.'
"I've always liked getting things right," he replied modestly. "My parents encouraged early practice."
The Magistra's violet eyes seemed to look through him rather than at him. "Indeed. House Steinfeld has always produced... exceptional children." She moved to a bookshelf, pulling out a thin book bound in midnight blue leather. "This is usually for second-year students, but I think you'll find it challenging enough."
Lore took the book, noting the title: "Veils of Mind: Advanced Form Techniques."
"Thank you, Magistra."
"I'll expect a demonstration of the first three techniques next time we meet," she added. "I suspect you'll master them quickly." A slight smile curved her lips. "Triple affinity is rare, Lord Steinfeld, but even rarer is the wisdom to use such gifts properly."
As he turned to leave, she added, "Your kindness to Miss Grayson was noticed."
Lore paused, calculating responses. "She seemed like she needed help."
"Yes," the Magistra agreed. "Though I wonder what made you choose her specifically? There are many students who might benefit from association with House Steinfeld."
'Testing my motives. Honest answer, incomplete truth.'
"I recognize potential when I see it," he answered honestly, if not completely. "Good day, Magistra."
As he left the Academy grounds toward the waiting Steinfeld carriage, Lore mentally reviewed the day's wins: exceptional reputation established, connection with a potentially useful peer initiated, and the particular interest of a powerful faculty member secured.
The carriage door opened to reveal his father waiting inside, expression expectant.
"Well?" Lord Damien asked as Lore settled onto the opposite seat.
"The Academy might be more useful than we thought," Lore replied, arranging his robe. "I've spotted several potential opportunities for our family's interests."
His father's lips curved into a rare smile. "As expected. Tell me everything."
As the carriage rolled away from the Academy, Lore gave a detailed report of his day, leaving out only his true purpose and the lingering, unwelcome warmth he'd felt at Abigail's grateful smile when he'd offered her friendship.
Some feelings, he was discovering, were harder to categorize than others.