It was still dark outside when Tristan got out of bed.

He lit his bedside lamp and heard the muffled sounds of students getting dressed.

Jayce pulled his blanket over his head.

“We have survival training,” Tristan said.

“I hardly slept,” Jayce moaned.

***

The students stood huddled together, breathing clouds of steam in the courtyard.

“A bit crisp this morning ain’t it,” said Jayce, he strode into the yard wearing only a shirt and a pair of shorts.

Tristan glared at him. “Could you at least wear a jersey,” he said. “Seeing you in those shorts is making me colder.”

Ambrose stopped beside them with a steaming mug in his hands. “It's too early for decent folk to be awake,” he complained.

“Where’d you get that?” asked Jayce.

“The kitchen,” said Ambrose. He held the mug out to Jayce. “Have a sip. It's got cinnamon, ginger and cloves in it, guaranteed to warm the blood.”

Jayce took a sip and sighed in pleasure.“That hits the spot,” he said.

“Finish it,” said Ambrose. “It's my second mug already. I’ve been awake for hours, didn't get much sleep.”

“Don't think anyone slept well,” said Pyson. “Strange dreams.”

Jayce spluttered as he choked on his tea. “Went down the wrong pipe,” he moaned.

Something stirred and Tristan realized the shadow he was looking at was actually a man dressed in a mottled cloak. The man smiled as Tristan met his gaze.

“I am Halt Marrick,” said the man. “I will be instructing you in the subtle art of staying alive. Once your apprenticeship at the academy is done you will be sent out on quests for your king. Other Master’s will teach you how to defend yourself against enemies but I will teach you how to survive the greatest of enemies, nature. You will learn how to forage for food, how to build a shelter in a storm and how to navigate by the stars.”

After listening to a lecture on the ten uses of dirt, the students showered then went down to breakfast.

***

Tristan yawned as he shoveled a mouthful of oats into his mouth.

“Master Marrick gets way too excited about mud,” said Luna as she took a seat next to Tristan.

Tristan watched a thin girl dressed in baggy clothing and carrying a tray piled up to her nose with pancakes pass by their table.

“How does she do it?,” he asked.

“What?” asked Jayce.

Luna twisted around and saw the girl placing a hand on the top pancake as she carefully put the tray onto the table.

“How does she eat so much?” Tristan asked.

“Faye Marple,” said Luna. “She’s in my dorm. She told us that she’s always hungry but no matter how much she eats she never puts on weight.”

“I can't tell if that's a blessing or curse,” said Tristan.

Faye folded a pancake into a neat square and then pushed it into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed and then repeated the process with the next pancake.

“You're not hungry?” Jayce asked as he eyed Tristan's measly bowl of oat.

“Nah, I feel like something light today,” said Tristan, “Didn't sleep well last night.”

“Me neither, hoa. That damn bird of yours gave me nightmares. Blue eyes watching me sleep all night.”

“Some of the girls complained about bad dreams too,” said Luna.

“How did you sleep?” Tristan asked.

Luna shrugged. “Same as always. Closed my eyes and a second later it was morning.”

“Did you say blue eyes watching you sleep?” Ambrose asked as he sat down at the table beside Luna.

Jayce nodded. “Probably ate too much meat,” he said. “My pa always told me too much meat brings bad dreams.”

“Did it speak to you?” asked Ambrose.

Jayce stared at him.

“I thought so,” said Ambrose. He stood up and addressed the seated students. “Who of you dreamt blue eyes?”

He raised his hand and a few other students raised theirs too. A second later all the students raised their hands.

“Shared dreams,” said Luna. “Is that even possible?”

“It seems that way,” said Ambrose. He looked at Tristan. “You’re hiding something, Tristan Bell.”

“What?” stammered Tristan. “Are you a truth seeker too?”

Ambrose smiled. “No. Just my instincts but now you have confirmed them.”

“I don't know what you are talking about,” Tristan said.

Luna’s eyes widened. “Maybe,” she said.

Ambrose studied Luna. “What are you two hiding from us?”

Tristan shook his head. “You wont believe me,” he said.

“Try me,” said Ambrose.

“The eyes,” said Tristan. “They are Malice’s”

A few students laughed nervously.

“But that's impossible,” said Sylvia Grenlock, her voice barely above a whisper. “The dragon is nothing more than a housewives tale to scare kids into eating their vegetables.”

“Go on,” said Ambrose.

Tristan raised his voice. “You all heard about what happened in Porthaven?”

A few students nodded.

“Malice burnt that town to the ground. I saw it with my own eyes.”

“But, but,” stammered Sylvia.

“The Crimson Guard were there,” said Tristan. “They were sent in to kill the revenants.”

“You saw revenants?” Ambrose asked.

“If people with white lifeless eyes that attack you on sight are revenants,” said Tristan. “Then yeah, I saw them.”

“What happened?” Sylvia Grenlock asked.

“We killed them,” said Tristan.

The bell rang interrupting their conversation.

***

Shelves containing colored stones, silver bells, deformed shells and bits of iron twisted in bizarre shapes lined the walls of the artificing classroom. Master Talos, an old man with wispy gray hair and wearing a top hat, spent the hour teached the students about the different magical conductivity of various materials. He demonstrated a magical locket that detected real money from money created by alteration.

After their artificing class, they had Magical History with Master Mollie Hornfel.

“A thorough understanding of the complete history of magic,” said Master Hornfel. “Allows the user to better understand how magic has shaped us and ultimately led to the formation of magical law.”

Tristan’s eyes began to grow heavy.

He looked around the classroom and saw the same bored looks reflected on his fellow student’s faces.

“The first law of magic,” continued Master Hornfel. “Can not be understood without knowing the events that led to its development.”

“What’s this first law of magic?” asked Pyson Mews. The pale kid who had gotten the whole class in trouble during survival training.

“Please raise your hand if you have a question,” said the Master.

Pyson raised his hand.

“Yes, Pyson Mews. What is your question?”

“The first law of magic,” he repeated. “You haven't told us what it is yet.”

“Oh yes,” said the Master. “The first law states that magic may not be used against or for the benefit of common people.”

“What?” asked Luna.

“Hands please,” said Master Hornfel.

Luna raised her hand.

The Master nodded at her.

“We can't use magic to help people?” Luna asked.

“Yes, Luna Ward. The world of magic must be kept separate from the ordinary world,” he said.

Luna’s hand shot up.

“Yes, miss Ward.”

“Why?” she asked.

“What if you were to heal all those who were sick?” the Master asked. “You would have no sick people left in the world. That would cause food shortages. So then we would use magic to increase crop production and that causes overpopulation which would lead to unemployment and result in crime.”

“Can't magic be used for war?” asked Tristan.

“Hands please,” she said in a high pitched voice.

Tristan bit back the nasty reply he was about to give and instead raised his hand.

“Yes, Tristan Bell?”

Tristan repeated his question.

Master Hornfel nodded thoughtfully. “If we used magi in war there would be no need for armies,” she said.

“What’s the problem with that?” asked Tristan.

The Master shot him an annoyed glance.

He raised his hand.

“Magi in warfare would result in a magi arms race,” continued the Master. “Magi would become the god's of Umbra. This would lead to great inequality and discrimination between the people.”

“What’s wrong with that?” asked Pyson.

“We would all be killed,” said the Master with an irritated tone in her voice. “There would be a technological explosion as leaders would be forced to invent new ways of controlling magi or killing them if they could not be controlled.”

Luna raised her hand.

“Yes, Miss Ward?”

“What’s the point of being a magi then?” she asked.

The Master smiled. “Luna, you are a ward of the king. You don't need to understand your purpose. The king will direct you as he sees fit and the king has ordered us to fight the battles the ordinary people can't fight for themselves. We pit magic against magic.”

“Like Malice?” said Tristan.

Tristan’s words sucked the life out of the classroom.

“What are you talking about?” asked Master Hornfel, by that time her face had already begun turning pink.

Ambrose raised his hand.

“Yes, Ambrose Dominus.”

“It's believed that Malice attacked Porthaven,” he said.

“That's ridiculous,” said the Master. “The fires of Porthaven have been investigated by the king’s Crimson Guard.”

“What about the revenants?” Ambrose asked.

“Revenants!” exclaimed the Master, her face turned from pink to red. “Who’s been spreading these malicious lies? There were no revenants on Porthaven, just distraught farmers.”

The class fell silent again this time, all eyes fixed on Tristan.