“Ninety-nine times ninety-nine were the Old Ones in Their glory, and Creation shook with the greatness of Their song.”

-Excerpt from the Testament of Xoatli, holy book of the Reptant Heresy

***

Elves of the Great House of Silthondrim were the stuff of legends.

Its founders, Githendril and Yisendril, were the last children of the Elders but the first to come to the black shores of frozen Endrillond. Every hold and mountain fastness held traces of their reign, the very landscape had been moulded by their hand, and their descendants honored their memory. Their daughter, Undomalene, who’d ruled through the madness of the Age of Night and raised the Amrothuilye with her lifeblood to guard against the gibbering things that prowled the edges of the Outer Dark. Edrilan Dragonsbane, who’d killed not one, not two, but three dragons in a single battle and lived to tell the tale. Great Sage Yisene, who’d helped High Lady Valadothe raise the Veil between the Concord and the mortal lands. Her grandsire, Therenil, who’d lifted it, all by himself.

Alvanue was descended from philosopher kings and warrior queens, great mages and scholars, thaumaturgists and heroes all. The foresires and foredams of House Silthondrim were elves whose deeds inspired myths among a yet mythical race. Hers was a pedigree of valor and power that could be matched by few in Creation.

It was for that reason that she refused to admit to herself that she was maybe, possibly, just a little bit nervous for her first day of school.

The only thing vaguely like school she’d experienced since her time on Earth were those miserable few weeks under Uruigith, an experience she wasn’t eager to repeat, and private sessions with her parents. Not only that, she hadn’t needed to deal with fellow students or even a class schedule since her days at Amargosa Community College.

She’d woken early that morning buzzing with nerves and spent the hours before dawn preparing, fussing over her new uniform. A voice that sounded alarmingly like Sildathlene whispered at that back of her mind to make sure she looked her best. A servant from the college had come by the embassy before Alvanue’s misadventure the night before with several sets for her, just as Winnifred had promised. The tailor certainly knew how to do her job as every article of clothing fit her like a glove. She just felt silly and a bit claustrophobic in them.

Sildathlene would hate them if she could see the uniforms for herself

They were simple but made well: several black wool skirts, white linen shirts, a black capelet, and a pin with St. Gildrin’s signature dove secured the bow tied around her collar. A broad brimmed hat with a pointed peak, a twin to the one Vivienne had worn, came as well but it hurt her ears to wear it, so she’d set it aside.

After settling her nervous stomach with some fruit and a local dish she was pretty sure was this world’s equivalent to cereal in the embassy’s dining room, she spent the next hour bringing the hem of the skirt up. Sewing was not high on the list of things her parents wanted her to be able to do but it was useful out in the field, so she always kept a needle and thread on her.

She checked her handiwork in the tall standing mirror by her bed and was pleased with the results. Instead of resting at mid-calf like before, now the skirt hung several inches above her knee. It was still warm and a little scratchy compared to the silks she was used to, but it was still a major improvement.

Edhalan was silent as he walked with her up to the college except to make her promise to wait for him after class.

As she watched him head back down the hill, she wondered if he was thinking about his duel with Adair. They’d not spoken of it on their way back from the Hangman and she forgotten to bring it up. That was an issue for later, she decided.

For better or worse, she had more pressing matters at hand.

***

St. Gildrin’s front gate was jam packed by the time she arrived. She had to squeeze past the absurd number of carriages clogging it up just to get through.

It was impossible to tell which students were new and which were returning, but it seemed like everyone’s extended family had come along to drop them off. People of different species and social classes rubbed elbows in the crowded courtyard in front of the Main Hall, wishing sons and daughters a good school year.

Watching as a woman wearing a gaudy diamond necklace pull a scrawny boy into a sobbing embrace, Alvanue smiled ruefully. The smile didn’t last long, sliding off her face as she thought of the family that she’d left in Endrillond.

Githanduin would hate the spectacle of it all, Sildathlene would hate it all period, and Nalendril...he might think it was kinda cute.

Shaking herself, she weaved through the tangle of people and up the steps of the Main Hall. A line of students was forming in front of a placard with the words ‘First Years Here’ on it.

Alvanue fell in behind two twins speaking rapidly to each other in a language she’d never heard before, all buzzing consonants and sharp vowels. More and more students came to join them as the knot of carriages slowly untangled in the courtyard, reluctant parents taking leave of their children as the belltower began to ring.

The line of first years didn’t have to wait long after that before they were greeted by the sight of none other than Ms. Ragnell poking her head out of the hall. The toadish woman clutched a clipboard to her chest as her beady eyes raked over them.

“Right, kids, this way,” she said and started walking around the side of the Main Hall.

With little choice but to follow, Alvanue and the others trailed after her.

The woman brought them to a squat building butting up against the back of the Main Hall, looking decidedly newer and cleaner than the ancient building whose shadow it stood it, with great double doors.

With a grunt, Ms. Ragnell heaved them open and gestured inside.

“Let’s go people, keep it moving, keep it moving, don’t keep the Dean waiting.”

Alvanue gulped, remembering what Vivienne had said about the Dean. There, standing on a raised platform at the center of the room, stood a severe looking woman with half-moon glasses, staring down at them all as they filed in.

Despite their somewhat tight quarters, the new students didn’t jostle each other as they made their way into the building. A sea of black robes flooded the room as people climbed the rows of elevated seats to the left and the right of the door. It looked like every auditorium she’d ever been in, with the notable addition of a few suits of armor and heraldic banners.

Alvanue followed the flow of the foot traffic around her and ended up stuffed between a haughty looking boy with brown ringlets and a dark-skinned beauty with hair so short she could see scalp showing through. Neither of them paid her any mind, eyes fixed on the bespectacled woman at the center of the room, waiting intently for her to speak.

Several minutes passed as the first years found their seats. The woman waited several more until their muttering and whispering faded to silence before stepping forward to address them.

“I would like to start off by introducing myself, though doubtless many of you already know who I am,” she said, gaze sweeping all around. “My name is Ryzel Felwyck, and I am Dean of this college. I also teach Pre-Sundering History and Arthurian Thaumaturgy, but that won’t concern you for a few years yet. It is my honor and privilege to welcome you, dear students, to your first year at the premier institution of magical and martial learning in all of Albion. Congratulations, you've proven yourself superior to the best and brightest from around the world.”

Alvanue hunched in her chair slightly, feeling a bit like an imposter. She’d done nothing of the sort to be accepted at St. Gildrin’s, after all. Her sire had been the one to secure her position.

“Be proud of yourselves,” Dean Felwyck went on, “for this is no small feat, but know this; the battle may be over, but the war is far from won. If you think your time here will be easy, I regret to inform you that you are mistaken. From today until you graduate, you will be tested and pushed to the extent of your abilities. Your classes will be grueling, your professors demanding, the gifts that gained your admission to this school strained to the point of breaking. Your potential will be tempered in the flames of academia. But-”

She turned. Alvanue felt like Dean Felwyck was staring directly at her, eyes hidden behind her flashing spectacles.

“When you leave these hallowed halls, you will be counted amongst an elite few in all the world; accredited mages and knights of St. Gildrin’s College, the very best Albion has to offer.”

A murmur passed through the room at this.

Some sat up, straight backed and confident, while others looked nervous. The boy on her left preened. Dean Felwyck allowed the moment to stretch out, her sharp-toed shoes clicking against the floor as she circled around her platform.

“Now, I want you to look around the room. Go on, don’t just sit there, take a good look at the budding young scholars all around you,” she urged the hesitant students. Alvanue, like the rest, heeded her command and looked around the room. Everyone else looked as unsure as she felt, but they continued until Felwyck motioned for them to stop.

“Starting now,” the Dean continued, “each and every one of the young men and women you see before you is your rival. For the next four years, and very likely the rest of your lives, you will be in constant competition with your peers. For apprenticeships, for positions of power, for prestige, it doesn’t matter. Remember their faces, learn their weaknesses, forge alliances. Do this, or be left behind. That is the St. Gildrin way.”

Alvanue gulped. It’d been a while, but this was not how she remembered her previous college orientation going.

Aren’t teachers supposed to be encouraging? This chick is terrifying!

***

After the Dean’s rather intense welcome, the herd of young students were guided back to the main hall by Ms. Ragnell. The sour faced old woman had roped a sullen band of upperclassmen into helping her. who directed them into somewhat orderly lines and began passing out class schedules along with other paperwork.

Alvanue took her bundle of papers from a harassed looking third year and scooted out of the way for the boy behind her.

And that’s when she saw her.

Standing at the top of the steps in front of the Maine Hall, looking as startled as Alvanue felt, was Vivienne.

“Vivienne,” Alvanue said in way of greetings.

She’d been dreading the possibility of bumping into her on campus. By the way the human girl’s face shuttered when she caught sight of Alvanue, the drama of the previous night was still fresh in her memory.

“Morning Alvanue,” Vivienne said. Her tone was polite, but decidedly distant compared to the way she'd been just the day before.

“Hey, so about last night…” Alvanue let the sentence hang in the air between them.

Vivienne's polite mask cracked as she winced.

“Forget about it. Adair always runs his mouth when he’s drunk. I just- I'm sorry he was such an ass. Can you let your, um, bodyguard know? That we’re sorry? He’s really not a bad guy and we don’t want any trouble.”

Alvanue backpedaled. This was not the reaction she had been expecting. Anger, maybe, or scorn but certainly not an apology.

“No . No no no, you don’t have anything to apologize for!” Alvanue said, recovering from her mental hiccough. “I’m the one who’s sorry. Adair was obviously black-out drunk and Edhalan shouldn’t have picked a fight with him in the first place. That was our bad, not yours. Speaking of Adair, is he doing okay?”

Vivienne didn't respond right away and gave her a measuring look. Finally, she spoke.

“Yeah, he’s okay. More shaken up than anything. I don’t think he’s ever lost that badly or that fast before.”

Small mercies, Alvanue thought.

“Phew. Well that’s good, I guess. Thought he might’ve broken something when he fell.”

They moved out of the doorway into the building so a group of Alvanue’s fellow first years could get through. Vivienne waited until they’d turned a corner in the hall before speaking again.

“Are you…really not mad about what he said?” Vivienne asked, her tone unsure. Her head cocked to the side the same way it had when the two of them first met.

“What do you mean?” Alvanue asked.

Vivienne bit her lip.

“I mean, you’re obviously from an important family, even if his majesty doesn't look favorably on you or your house. I might excuse Adair for saying what he did, considering the circumstances, but he was still being really rude to you and your guard. I just want to be sure that there won’t be any...repercussions for his stupidity in the future.”

That was when it clicked in Alvanue’s mind, something Viviane had said.

‘We don’t want any trouble’.

They really think I’m gonna do something bad to them just because their friend decided to act like a jackass?

She tried to look at the situation from Vivienne’s point of view.

Vivienne and the others didn’t know her exact background. What they did know that she was from a noble family powerful enough for her to be housed at the embassy instead of the dorms and important enough to need a bodyguard follow her around. Add that with the general view that elves were haughty and quick to take offense, and the fact that their close friend had gone out of his way to offend them, things made sense.

Elves weren't necessarily a cruel people, but they clung tightly to things like tradition, social standing and especially their pride. She’d met elves back home petty enough to go out of their way to punish Adair for the things he said, regardless of whether he’d been in his right mind or not. She’d met others who’d go so far as to punish Vivienne, Ula and Thisby, too, simply because they were associated with Adair.

She understood the girl’s worries. Truly, she did, but still...

Do I really seem like that kind of elf?

The thought that Vivienne could believe that she was someone capable and willing to leverage their position to get revenge for something so minor. It was galling.

“No, of course not, Vivienne. I wouldn’t do something like that,” she said.

The mortal girl stared at her, silent and wary, before she seemed to come to a decision. She shook her mane of dark curls and attempted a small smile.

“Alright then. I’ll accept your apology, but only if you accept mine, too.”

She held out her hand.

“Ok. Deal.”

Alvanue shook her hand, smiling back.

***

“Let’s see, what’ve you got.”

Vivienne plucked her schedule out of her hands. She unrolled the scroll and inspected it closely, ignoring Alvanue’s squawk of surprise.

“Hey!”

The awkwardness from moments before had been forgotten, replaced by the same friendly spark they’d shared from their first meeting. They sat outside the Main Hall on a bench, the stack of paper’s Alvanue had been handed spread out on her lap.

“Hmm. First quarter magical studies...you’ve got Herbology, Introductory Mana Manipulation, and Basic Channeling. That’s with Taizin, so watch out. She’s a total snake. For general education you’ve got…history. Bad luck,” Vivienne tsked.

“’Bad luck’? Why ‘bad luck’?” Alvanue asked.

“St. Gildrin’s doesn’t have long term general education positions, so the other professors have to draw lots from quarter to quarter. I heard Professor Ravenser got history this year and he’s kind of famous for his temper. Or infamous, I guess I should say. Just don’t make yourself a target and you should be fine.”

It’s always the GE teachers, Alvanue thought with a sigh.

“Well, whatever. I’ve always been pretty good at history, so I’ll be able to lay low.”

Vivienne shook her head.

“No, you don’t get it. He hates know-it-alls and he hates teaching anything other than his main subject.”

“What’s his main subject?”

“Drill.”

Fuck.

***

Vivienne walked Alvanue to her first period, filling her in on more teacher gossip and marking the locations of her classes on her hand-drawn map so she wouldn’t get lost.

Alvanue was glad she’d bumped into the mortal girl and cleared the air. It felt nice to have a new friend, to have someone to talk to that hadn’t known her for her entire life. Edhalan was her oldest friend and first confidante, but there was a difference.

It had been inevitable, really. Regardless of the fact that he’d pledged his sword to her when she was introduced to court on her tenth birthday, they were the only two elves around their age in all of Silthonduen. He may have been a good twenty years older than her, but the next elf closest in age was Amithis, who’d celebrated her one hundred and seventeenth birthday several months back.

They got along well and she knew without a doubt that she could rely on Edhalan no matter what, but...Whatever the reason for Vivienne extending her hand in friendship, Alvanue could be sure it wasn’t out of a sense of honor or obligation. Alvanue hoped she’d done it because she wanted to get to know Alvanue for who she was.

Aside from beng a part of a family that loved her, it was the only thing she'd ever dreamed of on Earth.

“Listen,” Vivienne said as they stopped outside the herbology building. “There’s a study group that meets in the library every massday. You’re welcome to come, just...”

“Leave my douchebag bodyguard at home?” Alvanue hazarded.

Vivienne laughed a little nervously.

“Yeah. That.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t need Eddie around to protect me when I’m on campus. And I’ll have a talk with him about Adair, ya know, just to make sure there are no bad feelings.”

The smile that Vivienne gave her was genuine this time.

“I’d appreciate it.”

Once Vivienne had left, heading off for her own day of classes, Alvanue turned to the structure before her. The nerves she’d felt that morning were back in full force, filling her stomach with butterflies, but she mastered them and took a step forward.

“Ok. Here we go.”