The Winter Tourney had finally come to an end. Classes were over before even that, and so the academy was in large part empty. Most students were having fun around town, and it would remain as such until the Last Feast at the end of the year.

Afterward, the students would have seven weeks to spend with their families before the next academic year began.

Jon had no one to go back to, so he would be spending this time at the academy. Same for Deon and Aeron, who weren’t quite welcome at their homes. He left the dormitory accompanied only by the sound of the snow crunching under his boots. It had been a long time since he last felt comfortable enough to walk around by himself.

He walked north, past the library, and came across two other first-year students heading out. They both changed directions as soon as they noticed Jon, neither one daring to meet his gaze. That had been the norm ever since his duel against Garrel. The nobleman who was brutally wounded at the tourney became the main topic of conversation amongst students.

Overnight, Jon was no longer just an outcast freak who anyone could bully. Now, he was dangerous, and that change was immediately felt. Hateful glares turned into downcast gazes. Frequent bumps against other students became a thing of the past as they all chose to keep their distance. Between being hated and being feared, Jon sure preferred the latter.

He continued walking past the feasting hall and private housings for the top students before finally arriving at the main building. After pushing the heavy doors open, he climbed the stairs to the last floor and reached the headmaster’s office.

The door was closed, and a servant woman waited in front of it. “Name?”

“Jon of Rochdale.”

The woman unfurled a scroll and searched through the list of names inside. “First year, ninth place.” She rolled the scroll back up. “Lord Lanard and the headmaster are currently busy hearing another student’s re—” Before she was done speaking, the door swang open.

A student, third-year given her robe’s yellow lapel, stood at the door with her head turned to the side. “Many thanks my lord,” she said with a smile that immediately froze after locking eyes with Jon.

He waited, first for her to hurriedly leave, and then for the servant woman to announce him before striding inside. The old headmaster sat behind the desk, making no attempt to hide his discontent at seeing Jon.

Lanard stood further back with both hands on the window’s sill. His reaction was a stark contrast to the headmaster’s. “Jon, good to see you. I must say you look much better than when we last met.”

“Thank you, my lord. Being away from the dungeons has done wonders for my health. I even earned myself a spot at the King’s Tourney,” he said the last part while staring directly at the headmaster. He knew how much it annoyed the old man.

“Yes, and it’s exactly about your performance at the tourney that we need to talk about before getting into the matter of your prize.”

“You gravely injured lord Vypren,” said the headmaster. “If not for the official’s intervention, then you’d have killed him instead. No matter what differences you had in the past, that sort of behavior is completely unacceptable.”

Jon wondered how the old man would react had Garrel come out on top instead. “People are bound to get injured in a duel, that’s just how things go,” he said with a shrug. “If lord Vypren doesn’t want to get hurt, then he should try knitting from here on out. Besides, he was never in any fatal danger as the duke’s officials oversaw the entire event. I find it unfortunate that my lord has so little faith in His Grace’s judgment.”

Still leaning against the back wall, Lanard scratched his chin in an attempt to hide a smile. That’s all Jon needed. The Olsandres were the ones with all the power. As long as he didn’t get on their bad side, then Jon had nothing to fear from the headmaster.

“So you mean to tell us that you didn’t intend to murder lord Vypren?”

Certainly not. Jon wished he could put an end to Garrel then and there. Unfortunately, that could never happen. Humiliating and possibly traumatizing him were a nice consolation prize. The wounds on the nobleman’s body may have healed, but the memories would forever remain.

When people talk, he will wonder if they are talking about him. When eating at the feasting hall, he will remember the taste of steel in his mouth. And when closing his eyes to sleep, he will see the tip of Jon’s sword in front of his face. That would be his personal hell for the foreseeable future.

If he couldn’t be killed, then he might as well suffer.

“He hurt me, and I hurt him back. As far as I’m concerned, our differences are settled.”

“A noble sentiment.” Lanard crossed both arms in front of his chest. “If true. Regardless, you finished the tourney in ninth place, meaning you can request a boon from the duke. Within reason of course, and I may need to consult His Grace depending on the request.”

“I don’t believe that will be necessary. My request is for two potions: Kollion’s Concoction and Tears of the Faithful. From what I gathered, they aren’t particularly hard to brew, though some of its ingredients are restricted.”

“If memory doesn’t fail me,” said the headmaster, “Kollion’s Concoction is meant for Archmages. For what reason does a Mage such as yourself want it?”

“To help me breakthrough. In some exceptional cases, people stuck as a tenth-level mage were able to breakthrough after ingesting the concoction. As for the Tears, it should help me survive the side effects.”

“So your plan is to possibly waste valuable resources on a gamble.”

“A sure gamble.” Jon looked at Lanard. “If it works, then I’ll be much stronger and able to better represent the academy in the summer. If not…” He turned back to the headmaster. “...then I’ll probably die, and you’ll never have to worry about the half-breed soiling the academy’s image ever again.”

“Seems like the academy wins either way, then.” Lanard walked around the desk and stood in front of Jon, tilting his head up to look at him. “Fine, your request shall be granted, but on one condition. I don’t want to see you involved in any more trouble. Do I make myself clear?”

Jon thought back to the other students and how they kept avoiding him. He doubted he’d have any more problems with them. “Crystal, my lord.”

“Excellent. Between you and that roommate of yours, this year was already too eventful for my liking. Now go. Your boon will be delivered to you during the Last Feast.”