Spring term at the Thornwick Academy brought new challenges and deeper studies. Dust returned to find his classmates changed by their winter experiences—some more confident, others more thoughtful, all carrying new perspectives gained from time spent applying their developing skills in the wider world.
"You look different," Adrian observed as they settled back into their shared room. "More... focused, somehow."
"I spent time working on a real case," Dust explained, giving his roommate a brief overview of the Northport investigation. "It made me realize how much our classroom studies connect to actual situations."
"That's exactly what the second year is designed to explore," said Professor Thornwick when Dust visited his office to discuss his winter experiences. "You've moved beyond learning individual skills to understanding how they integrate into practical problem-solving. That's the foundation for everything that follows."
The second-year curriculum reflected this increased sophistication. While first-year students focused on acquiring basic competencies, second-year work emphasized synthesis and application. Dust found himself in courses with names like "Strategic Analysis," "Cultural Navigation," and "Information Architecture"—subjects that required not just knowledge but judgment.
His favorite new course was taught by Professor Miren Shadowhawk, a woman whose previous career remained mysterious but whose expertise in what she called "social engineering" was undeniable.
"Information is power," she told the class during their first session. "But raw information is useless without understanding how it flows through human networks. Your task is to learn how to trace those flows, influence them when necessary, and protect the information sources that serve legitimate purposes."
The practical exercises in Professor Shadowhawk's class were unlike anything Dust had experienced. Students were assigned to map the information networks within the Academy itself—who talked to whom, how rumors spread, where decisions were actually made versus where they appeared to be made.
"This is somewhat disturbing," Lyanna commented as they worked together on mapping the kitchen staff's influence on Academy operations. "We're essentially learning to spy on people."
"Are we?" Dust asked, genuinely curious about her perspective. "Or are we learning to understand how organizations actually function beneath their official structures?"
"Both, I think. Which is what makes it disturbing."
Their investigation revealed that the Academy's kitchen staff knew more about student activities, faculty relationships, and administrative decisions than most professors realized. They formed an informal intelligence network that processed information from every corner of the institution, making them potentially powerful allies or dangerous opponents depending on how they were approached.
"Excellent analysis," Professor Shadowhawk said when they presented their findings. "You've identified a classic example of institutional knowledge networks that operate parallel to formal authority structures. Now, how would you use this information constructively?"
"Treat them as partners rather than servants," Dust suggested. "Acknowledge their expertise and include them in relevant decision-making processes. People are more likely to support initiatives they help design."
"And if you needed to prevent sensitive information from spreading through their network?"
"Address their concerns directly rather than trying to hide things," Lyanna added. "Secret-keeping creates suspicion, but honest explanation builds trust."
"Both correct. Remember—the goal isn't to manipulate people, but to understand social dynamics well enough to work with them rather than against them."
As spring progressed into summer, Dust found himself increasingly drawn to courses that combined analytical thinking with practical application. Professor Blackthorne's "Strategic Assessment" class taught students to evaluate complex situations from multiple perspectives simultaneously, while Professor Varek's "Negotiation Theory" provided frameworks for resolving conflicts between parties with competing interests.
But the most challenging course was "Ethics in Information Work," taught by Master Blackthorne himself.
"Every technique you learn at this Academy can be used for beneficial or harmful purposes," Blackthorne explained during one particularly intense seminar. "The difference lies not in the methods themselves, but in the character and judgment of the person employing them."
The class grappled with scenarios that had no clear right answers. When was deception justified in service of a greater good? How do you balance individual privacy against collective security? What obligations do information professionals have to the people who provide them with intelligence?
"These aren't academic questions," Blackthorne emphasized. "Our graduates face these dilemmas regularly in their professional work. Your ability to navigate them ethically will determine not just your success, but your worthiness to possess the capabilities we're teaching you."
One assignment required students to research historical cases where intelligence professionals faced ethical dilemmas, then present their analysis to the class. Dust chose to study the case of a trade negotiator who discovered that his employer was planning to exploit a famine in neighboring kingdoms to manipulate grain prices.
"The negotiator had four options," Dust explained to his classmates. "Remain silent and allow potentially thousands of deaths from starvation. Warn the affected kingdoms and betray his employer's confidence. Sabotage the plan from within while maintaining his cover. Or find a way to make cooperation more profitable than exploitation."
"Which did he choose?" Adrian asked.
"The fourth option. He convinced his employer that providing disaster relief would create long-term trading relationships more valuable than short-term price manipulation. The grain was sold at fair prices, the famine was alleviated, and the trading company prospered from the goodwill generated."
"And the ethical lesson?" Professor Blackthorne prompted.
"That creative thinking can sometimes find solutions that serve everyone's legitimate interests. But it required understanding his employer's real motivations, not just their stated plans."
As summer term drew to a close, Dust received an unexpected visitor. Captain Aldrich appeared at the Academy one afternoon, looking somewhat out of place among the scholarly buildings but carrying himself with the quiet confidence that had made him an effective ship's captain.
"Thought I'd see how you were settling into landlubber life," Aldrich said with a grin as they walked through the Academy's gardens. "Though from what I hear, you've been keeping busy with more than just books."
"How did you hear about the Northport investigation?"
"Sea captains talk to each other, especially when interesting events happen in ports we frequent. Word is you helped prevent some nasty business involving merchant house politics." Aldrich studied him appraisingly. "Sounds like the Academy's teaching you useful skills."
"More useful than I expected when I first arrived," Dust admitted. "Though I sometimes wonder if I'm becoming too comfortable with complexity. There was something appealingly straightforward about shipboard life."
"Different kinds of complexity, lad. At sea, you're dealing with wind and weather, navigation and seamanship—complicated, but honest complications. What you're learning here is about human complexity, which is trickier but often more important."
They talked for hours about the choices that had brought Dust to the Academy and the paths that might lead away from it after graduation. Captain Aldrich's perspective was valuable precisely because it came from outside the Academy's sometimes insular environment.
"The question isn't whether you made the right choice coming here," Aldrich said as evening approached. "The question is what you'll do with what you're learning. That's what determines whether any education is worthwhile."
That night, Dust found himself thinking about his conversation with Captain Aldrich and his experiences over the past year. The Academy was teaching him to see patterns and connections that had been invisible before, to understand how individual actions created larger consequences, to navigate social and political complexities with confidence and skill.
But knowledge brought responsibility. The more capable he became, the more situations he encountered where his capabilities could make a meaningful difference. The investigation in Northport had been satisfying precisely because it had allowed him to use his developing skills to help people who were being harmed by forces beyond their understanding.
Perhaps that was his path forward—not just accumulating knowledge for its own sake, but actively seeking opportunities to apply that knowledge in service of justice and protection for those who needed it most.
As he prepared for his final year at the Academy, Dust felt a sense of purpose crystallizing that had been developing since his first desperate flight from Lower Ashmark. He was becoming someone who could navigate the world's complexities while remaining true to the values that had sustained him through his darkest moments.
The question was: what would he do with that person once his education was complete?