It had been a full year since Naye began living among them.
Long enough for his strangeness to fade into something more like a charming eccentricity.
He still asked far too many questions, lived half the time in the clouds, and showed a dangerously enthusiastic interest in anything mechanically complex — an enthusiasm that often resulted in something burning or exploding…
The eastern wind was blowing softly as they reached the final turn.
The carriage climbed a paved path that snaked along the mountain's flank, then emerged onto a plateau.
And there, the Academy appeared.
It did not look like a simple school. It was a city.
Vast, sprawling, nestled between the mountain foothills and a large lake to the north.
Buildings of pale stone rose in terraced levels, their slate rooftops glistening under the morning sun.
Inner courtyards opened like sheltered little valleys where ancient, gnarled trees grew.
Farther down, tiered gardens descended all the way to the lakeshore, and the water shimmered through the pines.
Slender towers dominated the whole structure — not straight and cold, but sculpted gracefully, as if the stone had been shaped to follow the natural lines of the landscape.
They could see arches, suspended bridges between buildings, and open galleries where silhouettes of students were already walking.
Naye stared, speechless.
He had seen cities before, but never a place that seemed so much like it had grown there, at the foot of the mountains, like a tree too large for its own trunk.
"It's… like another world," he breathed.
Eleanor smiled, her eyes sparkling.
"I knew it would be beautiful. But not this beautiful."
Calen stepped down from the carriage first, helping the two children climb down.
"Many paths will open to you here," he said quietly. "It seems calm, but don't be fooled: much will be expected of you. And maybe tonight you'll return to the palace," he added with a mocking tone.
The two children grimaced at the thought of the aptitude test waiting for them before they could officially join the Academy.
They crossed the main esplanade among families who had come to see their children off.
The murmur of conversations blended with the sound of water flowing down from the mountains, running through a stone canal along the path.
A large circular building stood at the center of the campus: the evaluation halls.
Its walls were adorned with ancient motifs — leaves, waves, spirals — as if the stone remembered every generation that had passed through.
Inside, the main hall was cool and bright.
Tall windows let sunlight in, drawing golden lines across the tables set in neat rows.
Students settled quietly, quills ready.
Eleanor sat with confidence.
Naye, a bit tense, sat beside her.
The exams began.
History of the Kingdom, geography, political structure, reading comprehension, common language, arithmetic, natural sciences, simple mechanics.
Eleanor advanced with the ease of those raised among tutors. She wrote quickly, clearly, her answers flowing almost effortlessly.
Naye, on the other hand, knew two capitals out of ten, thought taxes were "meant to pay for the nobles' ridiculous hats," and believed a peace treaty was "a very big sheet of paper where people lie politely."
The political and historical sections were a spectacular disaster.
He handed his exam in with a defeated sigh.
But when the science and logic section arrived, something shifted.
Naye had expected to recognize almost nothing.
Yet when he was shown diagrams and small mechanisms, a quiet certainty settled in his mind.
They showed him a little mechanism made of levers and counterweights.
While most students hesitated, he leaned over his paper and immediately wrote:
The main lever is too short: when pressed here, the mechanism locks.
A rear pivot is missing to distribute the weight.
The supporting piece must be lengthened by one third, otherwise the entire system collapses.
The professor collecting the papers paused, surprised by the clarity of the annotations, but moved on without comment.
Later, the observation tests involved bones, dried leaves, and simple anatomical diagrams.
Naye answered effortlessly, noting details few children ever noticed: the slight asymmetry of a joint, the arrangement of veins in a leaf, the tiny mistake in a drawing of a human heart.
As Eleanor handed in her own sheet, she peeked over his shoulder.
His lines of text were clean, precise, without a single erasure.
She blinked, stunned.
"Where did you learn all that?" she whispered once the papers were taken.
Naye shrugged softly.
"I… I don't know. It just feels… normal."
The Academy's great courtyard was packed with people.
First-years, teachers, assistants, family members, a few curious nobles — everyone waited for the results to be posted.
The bronze bells rang ten times; a tense silence fell.
Then the rector nodded, and four large panels were unfurled along the main façade.
Whispers ripped through the crowd.
"There! Find your name!" Eleanor said, standing on tiptoe.
Naye, far less enthusiastic, followed reluctantly.
The first names appeared.
Eleanor spotted hers almost immediately.
Eleanor d'Almery — 3rd out of 178.
She froze.
Then an irresistible smile lit her face.
"I… I did it!"
Her eyes sparkled. She attempted to remain composed but failed entirely and threw her arms around Naye.
"Congratulations," Calen said calmly from behind them.
But pride shone clearly in his eyes.
"Did you see, Naye? Look at my name, look!"
"Hmm… yes, you're placed very high. Now… do I really have to look at mine?"
"Obviously!"
She dragged him toward the lower part of the panel.
They went down.
And down.
And down.
Until the lower quarter.
Eleanor frowned.
"Ah. There."
Naye — 162nd out of 178.
A tiny note in the margin read:
Exceptional score in mechanics and observation. Severe gaps in general history, grammar, political method, and civic culture.
"Hey. That's not so bad," Eleanor tried.
"I'm almost at the bottom!" he protested.
"Yes but… you're not last."
"Great."
"And you got the best science score!"
"Yes but that's only one subject—"
"—that matters in many fields!"
"…Maybe."
He looked discouraged, but less than he expected; deep down, he had never had high expectations.
And strangely, that reassured him.
The rector raised his hand, and four long tables were set at the foot of the steps, each covered in registers sealed with the Academy's crest.
Behind them, professors waited, quills poised.
"First-years," the rector announced.
"You will come forward one by one.
State your choice: Exploration or Studies & Sciences.
Your name will be written in the register.
Your path begins here."
A shiver ran through the crowd.
Eleanor turned to Naye, excitement sparkling in her eyes.
"Shall we?"
"I guess we don't have much choice," he said with a nervous smile.
They queued up.
Eleanor and Naye were almost at the front — a privilege of their official arrival… and of the princess's status.
When her turn came, Eleanor stepped forward, straight as an arrow.
"Eleanor d'Almery," she declared clearly.
"Exploration."
A professor jerked his head up.
Another frowned.
A wave of astonished silence spread.
"Your Highness…" the registrar began.
"The Exploration Division involves missions beyond the walls, often dangerous, and—"
"I know," she replied calmly. "And I won't change my mind."
Indignant murmurs rose behind her.
Others sounded impressed.
A third professor, older, crossed his arms.
"We cannot oppose a formal choice," he sighed.
"But we will deeply regret seeing you injured."
Eleanor met his gaze without wavering.
Finally, the first professor signed.
"Very well. Exploration Division.
Welcome among us, Your Highness."
Eleanor gave a radiant smile and returned to Naye.
"Did you see?" she whispered. "It's like I asked to become queen of pirates."
"Technically, you could," Naye answered.
"You're… already a princess."
She elbowed him lightly and laughed.
Then came Naye's turn.
He took a deep breath.
Stepped forward.
"Naye," he said, trying to sound confident.
"Studies and Sciences."
The professor checked the results board behind him.
"You are… ah. Yes. Well. Your grades are… hm."
"But the Studies and Sciences Division accepts anyone with a sincere willingness to work."
Naye felt that wasn't quite a compliment.
He nodded.
"I'll work."
The professor signed without hesitation.
"Welcome to the Studies and Sciences Division."
Naye joined Eleanor again, feeling oddly relieved.
Calen, standing a few steps behind, watched them quietly.
His usually impassive face held a discreet pride.
"So, you're off," he said softly.
Eleanor turned to him.
"You'll come visit us, right?"
"As soon as my duties allow.
But the capital needs me… especially in wartime."
He placed a hand briefly on Naye's shoulder.
"And take care of her.
You have a talent… for attracting trouble."
"I don't attract anything!" Naye protested. "Trouble finds me!" he added with a grin.
Calen laughed. A real laugh — rare for him.
Then he knelt before Eleanor, a gesture he only used in private.
"Be careful, princess.
And be worthy of the choice you've just made."
Calen had first refused to let Eleanor join the Exploration Division.
The queen sending her daughter into ruins and monster scenes seemed insane to him.
But, against all expectations, Eleanor persuaded her mother — insisting that a future queen must be strong, capable of defending her kingdom.
And that she carried an artifact that would protect her.
Eleanor nodded, moved.
Calen rose, cast a last look at the mountains and towers of the Academy… and walked away.
His dark coat vanished between the archways, swallowed by the road descending toward the capital.
Eleanor and Naye remained motionless a few seconds, silent.
Then Eleanor took a deep breath.
"Well.
This is the beginning."
Naye nodded.
"Yes… the beginning of something."
Eleanor pouted at his lack of enthusiasm.
They turned together toward the vast buildings, the hanging gardens, the glass domes, and the hundreds of new students bustling around.
The Academy awaited.
Evening light washed over the pale stone façades, and the paving stones echoed with the noise of students being assigned to their dormitories.
Here and there, someone complained loudly about not being chosen, while professors tried to calm them.
Naye climbed the steps of a long, elegant building topped with slate roofs and small dormer windows.
A carved plaque read:
North Wing — First-Year Dormitories — Mixed Sections
Inside, the air smelled of polished wood and freshly placed linens.
A servant in a blue uniform led each student to their room.
"Room 217… room 218… Ah, this is yours, young man," he said, opening a door.
Naye entered — and froze.
An elf with neatly combed black hair was arranging perfectly folded clothes in a sturdy oak wardrobe.
His midnight-blue tunic looked new, as did the perfectly shined boots beside the bed.
The elf looked up.
His pointed ears twitched — a sign of mild surprise.
"Oh. You."
Naye squinted.
Then his face lit up.
"You're… the boy from the alley! The one those thugs were hitting like a sack of grain!"
The elf sighed, theatrically exasperated.
"Thank you for bringing up that glorious moment of my life. I hoped we could start with something more flattering."
Then a sly, almost theatrical smile curved his lips.
"Vaelir. My name is Vaelir. And yes, I survived that… unfortunate incident. And you're Naye, aren't you?"
Naye blinked.
"Yes! But… how do you know my name?"
Vaelir shrugged.
"I read the dorm registry. I wanted to know who I'd be sharing a room with."
"I didn't expect to see you here," Naye admitted.
"Neither did I, honestly. The Academy… admitted me.
Under particular circumstances, let's say."
He gently closed the wardrobe.
"And you? You've come to study?"
"Yes! Studies and Sciences Division."
Vaelir looked at him a moment, then a mischievous smile grew.
"Then we'll have plenty to do together — it's my Division as well."
Before Naye could respond, he tapped him on the shoulder.
"Shall we eat? I'm starving like a plains wolf."
"Uh… yes! Let's go."
They went down to the dining hall — a vast vaulted room where hundreds of students laughed and chatted. The long tables were already crowded and loud.
Naye spotted an empty corner.
But before they could head toward it, mocking laughter rang out before them.
Five students blocked the way, proudly wearing the Exploration Division crest.
The tallest, broad-shouldered with an arrogant brow, looked Naye up and down.
"Oh, look at that. A little recruit from 'Studies and Sciences'.
How adorable. Are you here to analyze rocks while we do the real magic?"
The others snickered.
Naye, unused to such provocation, froze — visibly confused.
Vaelir, however, smiled with slow, deliberate elegance.
"Of course we analyze rocks," he said sweetly.
"It helps us identify the ones you shouldn't put in your mouth.
You should try it."
The tall boy frowned.
"What did—"
Just as he took a threatening step, a gust of wind caught his scarf — slapping it across his eyes like a blindfold.
He stumbled, grabbed his companions — and sent them toppling like bowling pins in an awkward heap.
Laughter erupted around them.
Naye included.
Not a small laugh.
A real one — bright and contagious.
Vaelir, perfectly innocent, shrugged.
"Oops. The entryway must be poorly maintained.
I've heard old buildings have… moods."
The tall boy scrambled up, bright red.
"I… I won't forget this!" he hissed before storming off with very questionable dignity.
Vaelir gave him a mocking salute, then turned to Naye.
"You see? Here, you defend yourself by other means than strength.
Besides… it was entertaining."
Naye wiped a tear of laughter.
"That was… incredible! How did you do that?"
"An elf never reveals his secrets," Vaelir said with a theatrical bow.
"Come. Before a professor blames us for the scene."
They found a table, sat down, and shared their first meal — Naye still laughing, Vaelir pleased with his own performance.
Author's note : Thank you for reading. If the story resonates with you, feel free to leave a comment or follow the next chapters — it really helps me keep going.