“Go sit by him?” whispered a girl.

“No, are you crazy?” asked another.

Casimir glanced over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of a pert brunette and a chubby blonde sitting at the desk behind him. They both froze when they noticed his gaze. When he looked away, they giggled. 

Another commoner student entered their Applied Aetherian Patterns and Applications class, and his eyes looked like they were about to fall out of his skull when he caught a glimpse of Casimir. His bug-eyed stare continued when he passed Casimir’s desk in the front row, and Casimir assumed it continued when he was no longer in sight.  

 Casimir pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. One would think I had two heads or something. 

He glanced over at Bryson and Tristan, who were seated together in the middle row. Bryson regarded him with a half smile, while Tristan looked up from his pattern book and gave him a wave. Casimir regarded them with a polite nod that garnered a look of surprise from the other students. 

Watching them hang on to my every move is tiring. I always thought that commoners getting shamed for not lowering their eyes was demeaning, but now I’m beginning to see the merit in it.    

He shook his head. No, I should not think that.

 The atmosphere shifted, and all heads turned when a platinum blonde man with iridescent eyes and sharp features strode into the classroom. His countenance demanded compliance and quelled the giggling of the girls. He ignored them as if all were beneath him and sat beside Casimir without a word. 

Casimir glanced at him curiously. One of Emperor Lightwell’s spares? But he does not look like anyone from the Crown Prince’s family. He must be a cousin or nephew. Regardless, Spindle is definitely here.

“Hey, it’s you!” Bryson cried out in anger.

Casimir turned to see Bryson pointing an accusatory finger at the stoic blonde, and he felt a blood vessel in his forehead twitch. Is this fool really—   

“Sit down! Do you not know who that is?” hissed a long-faced man in the third row.

“What’s going on?” Tristan asked and looked at his friend, bewildered.

“He was the guy who ditched me while I was being attacked by that creepy deer!”

Tristan’s gaze darted between Bryson and Lightwell, who remained seated in his chair facing the board. He looked reluctant at first, but after a sigh, his brow furrowed, and he shot up from his seat. “Is that so, Your Highness?” 

Casimir continued to look at Bryson incredulously. 

Lightwell did not bother to look at them. Instead, he grunted. “It’s Your Grace, sadly, my father was the unlucky second son, and your friend seems to manage to get here without my help. What’s the matter?”

Bryson’s face burned red. “That is only because someone who wasn’t a bast—”

Casimir shot Bryson a look of disapproval. “Bryson, I understand that this school does not have the same social hierarchy as the real world, but remember that we will all be leaving this school eventually.”

“I don’t care who he is!” Bryson gritted his teeth when he noticed Casimir narrow his eyes. “Tsk, I should have known you’d side with him.” 

 The Lightwell turned to Casimir and gave out a long, drawn-out sigh. “Another incompetent fool spared, you should have left him up there.”

“What?!” Bryson exclaimed.

  Casimir faced the blonde. “It would be against my morals to abandon someone who is in need. Is it not a part of the Weaver bylaws to use our gifts for the benefit of the Empire and its people? Helping a fellow classmate is one such case.” 

 Lightwell smirked. “It also states that we should seek and share knowledge with our fellow Weavers in order to advance the Empire. Sharing knowledge with fools is a waste, and coddling them is a disservice to everyone.” He glanced at Bryson. “No matter, this school will weed him out eventually, and I will laugh in your face when that happens.”

Bryson gnashed his teeth and inched forward. “Why you—”

“Good morning.” A bespectacled middle-aged man with a noticeable hunch, possibly from years of huddling over a desk, entered the classroom.

Tristan placed a hand on Bryson’s shoulder and encouraged him to sit down. Although Bryson’s glare did not leave the back of  Lightwell’s head.

“Seems like I came in just in time.”  The graying blonde professor made his way to the board and gave everyone a small smile. “I am Professor Skillwright. Welcome to Applied Aetherian Patterns and Applications.”

He opened a drawer on his desk and pulled out a 1ft x 1ft x 1ft metal cube. 

Casimir observed the images imprinted on the box’s face, he spotted a candle on one face and a stone on another. A puzzle box made with Aether-absorbing metal… Each face probably has to do with an elemental pattern. Seems easy enough.     

“Let’s get to know each other with a little game first?” Skillwright walked through the middle aisle of the desk and headed towards the stone table in the back of the room. “You will be split into five teams of three and take turns in solving this puzzle box with your patterns.” 

Skillwright rotated the box, showing the symbols imprinted on the box to the students. “The team with the fastest time wins a prize.”

“What do we get?” Bryson asked with a broad smile. 

“An extra credit paper of your choice!”

The class groaned at the prospect of a paper at the beginning of the year. 

Casimir internally sighed. I doubt the winners would need extra credit. 

“Now, now, you may need it to bolster your midterm grade,” Skillwright said, waving their protests away. “You have five minutes to pick your group before I start assigning people.”

 The students seemed to convene at two points, in front of the Lightwell and Casimir, much to both of their displeasure.

The first to approach Casimir were the two girls who sat behind him, giving him their prettiest pouty faces. He pretended not to see them and darted between the desk and gravitating students to the two commoners who would at least treat him normally. 

Bryson noticed Casimir heading toward him and Tristan.  “Uh, do you—?”

“Yes,” Casimir answered sharply.

He maneuvered his way behind them and laid claim to his team by placing a hand on each of their shoulders. The other students gave up and scrambled to form another team among themselves since the Lightwell’s team was already formed. Standing confidently beside him were a fit, tawny-skinned man with curly green hair and a round man with blue hair and large glasses.   

 A Forevergreene and a Vector. Of course, he would pick the only other students from Established Weaver families.

Lightwell caught Casimir’s gaze, and after glancing at Bryson and Tristan, he gave him a look that was a mixture of confusion and disappointment.

“So,” Bryson began, drawing Casimir’s attention away from Lightwell. “Have you played this game before?”

Casimir shook his head. “But it looks like a simple puzzle based on the elements.”

“Oh,” Bryson looked away uneasily. “Do you know every elemental pattern?”

 Blast it! Perhaps I should have been more selective. Never mind, this could still work out. Casimir hid his frustration behind a confident smile. “I only know wind, water, and electric. How about you two?”

Tristan shrugged. “Just water and earth. I’m still working on my fire and wind patterns.” 

Casimir turned to Bryson, who remained reluctant to speak. “Bryson?”

After a long pause, Bryson scratched his head and began counting on his fingers. “I know Aether arrow, Aether shield—”

“So no elemental patterns…” Casimir cut his stalling short and clicked his tongue. “Drat, no fire.”

“The professor did say that some faces have multiple answers, so we might get by with what we have,” said Tristan. 

“Time,” announced Professor Skillwright in a tone oozing with excitement. He carried with him a stopwatch and a clipboard. “Who wants to go first?”

Lightwell raised his hand. “I want to get this over with.”

Professor Skillwright nodded. “Your and your teammates' names first.”

“Alistair Lightwell.” He answered and positioned himself in front of the box. His teammates followed his lead by calling out their names and lining themselves up behind him.

“Fannar Forevergreene.”

 “Pascal Vector.”

“You may now begin,” Skillwright marked them off on his attendance. “It appears that your first obstacle is a lit candle, Mr. Lightwell.”

 Alistair gathered Aether to his pointer finger and weaved a pattern at lightning speed.  

Casimir could only catch that his hands were moving in circular motion. A stream of water launched from Alistair’s pointer finger confirmed that it was a water pattern. 

Blazes, he’s fast. 

The box accepted the pattern, and the image of the lit candle changed to an unlit one, and the box rotated to another face. 

Alistair’s hands moved, and a gust of wind struck them before Casimir could get a good look at the image on them. The box accepted Alistair’s patterns again and again, until he hit the last face and the box clicked open. 

The class looked at Alistair in awe, even Casimir caught himself gawking at his skill until he coolly looked away. 

He already has the skills of a General Weaver. Why is he here?

“6.35 seconds that will be difficult to beat. Excellent work, Mr. Lightwell. It is a pity you didn’t give your teammates a chance,” said Skillwright.

“We are fine with it,” said Fannar, relaxed. 

Pascal nodded in agreement. 

The remaining groups seemed hesitant to follow up on Alistair’s stunning performance, and instead, they all stared at Casimir’s team. 

How troublesome. Casimir took a step forward.