Rise of Tyrus

Two bowls of boiling stew were set on the table. Carrots, potatoes, and meat swam in the brown liquid. Tyrus grabbed a spoon and scooped a piece of beef. The juices and meat melted in his mouth, a wave of warmth and flavor spreading throughout his body. His shoulders relaxed as he greedily devoured the meat, enjoying every bite.

In the dining hall, various long tables and benches stretched across the hall. Dishes both warm and cold were spread across the wooden surface. Students sat around, conversing amongst themselves as they ate their meals.

One thing Tyrus noticed was that a bunch of the first-years wore scowls on their faces, picking away at their food in silence. The reason that being was solely their living quarters. Apparently, students who barely passed the entrance exams were sent to Barachus Hall, a place where instead of individual rooms, they were forced to share shacks big enough to accommodate three students. Bathrooms were also communal and shared. Even worse was there were no employees there to take care of their needs. Their living spaces' cleanliness depended entirely on the residents.

That was the main reason they appeared sullen, even when eating their meal. Some even muttered curses under their breaths, glaring hatefully at those who had passed the entrance exams and granted the opportunity to live in luxury.

As for those with an average score, they lived in Teit Hall, which was in the middle of Lavarun and Barachus Hall in terms of quality. Instead of shacks, they were given actual rooms, though they still had to share with one other person. Bathrooms were shared with roommates, and while their room wasn't as big as Lavarun Hall, they were still spacious and comfortable enough for a pair of students to live in. The residents there were not nearly as displeased as those from Barachus Hall once they heard wind of their living conditions.

However, their situation was not permanent as long as they improved their grades. A student from either Barachus or Teit Hall could move up a level. The catch was that the higher the quality of the room, the harder it was to move up a step. This system was created to motivate the students and push them to work hard to gain better benefits. It was a good motivator, especially for nobles used to living lavishly.

What better motivator for a noble than to threaten them with the risk of living like a commoner throughout their time in the academy? For seven straight years, at that? They would rather die than have that happen. Tyrus would image they hated living just like how a commoner would.

Speaking of commoners, the amount that got accepted could only be counted on one hand. They were scatted around the room, only taking a seat at the deepest ends of the tables. They did not talk amongst themselves, focusing only on the food in front of them. Sometimes they snuck glances at their surroundings, their eyes trailing the spread of the other students' dishes, and other times looking at the nobles already sitting in groups and gossiping.

It didn't take long for the nobles to move across tables to seek their friends and acquaintances. Thanks to Tyrus's hearing, he could eavesdrop on the conversations all around him. Most talked about their families' legacies and accomplishments. They also shared their thoughts about their fellow classmates. The girls spoke in a whispery tone, glancing and pointing around the room with coy smiles and laughing.

"I'm still shocked I got accepted," Ivy said.

She sat right next to Tyrus, nibbling on a stick of freshly baked bread. Her eyes scanned the area, looking at all the nobles chatting and having a good time. The food laid out in front of her was mostly seafood: steamed fish with pink flesh and a crispy brown shell, boiled prawns and crabs, and a bowl filled with clams and mussels. Was she going to eat all of that on her own?

"Studying for the Theory Department paid off," she continued. "Mother told me it's way more difficult to get a high score on the written exams because it's not just your memory, but also how much you retain. You also have to write out a lot of information, and not to mention there were some trick questions mixed in. It's a miracle I was given a silver pin when I scored low on the physical exam."

Tyrus changed his gaze to Igneal, who sat in front of him. The Lockhart had a slab of red bison meat with seasoning sprinkled on top. With a knife in his right hand and a fork in the other, he expertly cut a slice of the meat and brought it to his mouth, chewing thoroughly before swallowing.

The boy glanced up, his eyes meeting Tyrus's. "What? Never seen a person eat before?"

"Wouldn't it be easier to eat it with your hands?" Tyrus asked.

Igneal snorted in response. "What kind of foolish question is that? Do you eat stew with your hands? Of course, we use utensils. It is proper etiquette to use a knife and fork when eating meat like this. We don't simply stuff our mouths with our bare hands; we are civilized beings, not animals."

He set his utensils aside and jabbed a finger to Kylis, who sat on his right side. "And who invited the specter to eat with us? I don't remember her being part of our group."

Kylis glanced up from her plate of vibrant berries, cheeses, and greens and casually shrugged. "Lord Igneal, Tyrus has graciously invited me to join him and his friends for this meal. If my being here is causing any inconvenience, I can certainly remove myself."

Igneal gave a dismissive laugh. "Well, if my friend here has given you the green light to join us for a meal with Igneal Lockhart, then I suppose I have no reason to object. But tell me, Lady Kylis, what exactly made you decide to engage with him? I, being the person who knows him best, find it quite difficult to believe that he would have been the one to strike up a conversation with you. It's as unlikely as a net catching air."

"Igneal," Tyrus warned. He didn't know whether to be offended or chuckle at Igneal's attempt to look out for him.

Kylis popped a round, purple berry into her mouth, not making eye contact. "Your words are correct, Lord Igneal. I was the one who struck up a conversation with Tyrus, but not the way you think. A couple of fleas were causing trouble during the entrance exams, and I so happened to catch sight of him being bothered. I helped him deal with them. We simply crossed paths at the dormitory and I asked him what classes he would be attending."

"A couple of fleas decided to mess with a friend of a Lockhart, huh?" Igneal cupped his chin and glanced around the hall. "That certainly cannot stand. Which fleas, Lady Kylis? I would like to know what family they belong to so that they face an appropriate punishment."

The look on Igneal's face made Tyrus wonder if he was serious. He appeared calm, his gaze not even betraying any hints. But, on further thought, Tyrus wouldn't put it past Igneal to do something like that. He was the type of person to get his way by using his status, especially since his family was well known.

"You do not need to worry yourself over that, Lord Igneal," Kylis said, as if reading Tyrus' thoughts. "We have already handled them and should no longer be a problem."

Igneal sighed, seemingly disappointed at the outcome. "Very well. It is a shame I cannot deal with them. Allowing fleas like that to roam free is the same as permitting them to return. If that is to happen, I'll be sure to punish them myself, nobility or not."

He stabbed his fork into another slice of the red bison meat and lifted it to his lips, chewing slowly. Tyrus felt a tug on his sleeve and looked sideways to see Ivy inching closer to his ear.

"Is he always like this?" Ivy whispered. "Lord Igneal seems... a bit extreme, no?"

Tyrus scratched his cheek and smiled wryly. "I can't deny that, but he's not the worst person to be around. He might be a little crazy, but..." He paused, trying to find the right words. Nothing came to mind, so he just shrugged and gave Ivy an apologetic look. She stared at him incredulously.

"A little crazy is the best way you can describe him?"

"What are you two whispering about?" Igneal demanded. "If you have something to say, then say it."

"We were just talking about how some of the students around us keep stealing glances your way," Tyrus said. He motioned with his head towards a group who turned away when Igneal looked.

Igneal puffed out his chest and said, "As expected, people cannot help but become mesmerized by my presence. My status is something many dream of obtaining, or be affiliated with in some way. They most likely wish to make connections with me, hoping their own social standing will improve. Isn't that right, Lady Kylis?"

"That's not inaccurate to assume," she said. "They seem to be afraid of coming up to you, Lord Igneal. I wonder why that is so?"

It was apparent to anyone why the other first-years were hesitant to approach Igneal. Even from a table away, Tyrus could easily hear their whispers. They were discussing how a Demi-human could converse with two high-ranking nobles, Igneal and Kylis. The gazes of the other students were filled with caution and animosity.

Every time Tyrus made eye contact with any of them, he was met with a glare or a grimace. And as they shifted their gaze towards the two people in front of him, their expression transformed from disgust to envy. It was as if he was a piece of trash placed beside a pair of precious jewels. Despite proving himself in the physical exams and rightfully earning his place, he continued to face the same disapproval.

Tyrus could tell classes were going to be a pain to attend, but he prepared himself for this. Not for a single moment did he think he would be welcomed in the academy. This was just another hurdle to jump over, and he would do so no matter the consequences. All he could do right now was sit back and observe until something significant happened.

"Maybe that Demi-human is Lord Igneal's slave?" one boy mumbled nearby.

"I thought the Lockharts forbid taking in slaves once Flamen took charge?" another boy replied.

"If I recall, they're called servants now," said a girl. "I wouldn't put it past the headmaster to allow a member of the Great Lineages to bring in one servant, as long as they passed the exam."

"Aren't Beastfolk supposed to be dumb? How come that one passed?"

I can hear you, Tyrus thought. The others beside him did not react, meaning that they could not pick up on their conversation. If so, it was fine. Like hell he'd rope them into his own problems. Whatever was thrown at him, he'd take it head on without so much as cowering. Show even the tiniest bit of weakness, and his peers would pounce like predators to a wounded prey. He would not give them the satisfaction of reacting to their vile remarks by throwing a tantrum.

Igneal and Kylis seemed to notice the stares, but they didn't let it bother them. Maybe this was a normal thing. It wouldn't be crazy for them to be used to the attention. As for Ivy, she was oblivious to what was going on, happily tearing into her meal as Igneal babbled on about classes and Kylis putting in the occasional remark. Tyrus shared with everyone what classes he would be taking and if anyone were taking the same as him. Better to be grouped up with people familiar to him than complete strangers.

While Kylis was a stranger, Tyrus was still skeptical about her. Whether she had some ulterior motive, he couldn't disregard her help a few days ago. He would still keep his eye on her, but for now, he wouldn't outright avoid her.

After about an hour of eating and talking, the entrance ceremony feast came to an end as everyone waddled out of the hall, returning to their dormitories with full bellies. Wisps of light illuminated the courtyard, blanketing the area in a sea of gold and silver from the moon.

In Lavarun Hall, Tyrus bid everyone goodbye as they went their separate way. Once he found his room and settled inside—taking a quick bath that came with the room and changing into casual garments—he laid down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling.

Tomorrow would be the day classes would officially begin. The thought sent a mix of emotions through him. Excitement, dread, anxiety, and a whole lot more. What lessons would be taught? What kind of people would he encounter? Most importantly, would he do just fine on his own?

Those questions swirled around his mind, distracting him. After a while, his eyelids felt heavy, and he rolled over to his side as his consciousness slipped away.