Sunlight sliced through Lore's bedroom window like an unwelcome intruder, striking his closed eyelids with the precision of a well-aimed arrow. He groaned, rolling away from the assault with uncharacteristic petulance.
'Cursed sun,' he thought, pulling the silken covers over his head. 'Five years of psychological conditioning in this child's body, and I still can't appreciate mornings.'
The soft click of his bedroom door announced his mother's arrival before her floral perfume reached him. Lady Evangeline swept into the room with the dramatic flair that characterized her every movement, throwing open the curtains fully to worsen his solar torment.
"Rise and shine, my little shadow prince!" she sang, her amber eyes sparkling as she yanked the covers from his resistant grip. "Today is a momentous day! Your first day of formal education!"
Lore sat up, silver hair mussed in all directions, mouth set in a grim line that looked comically severe on his childish features. "I'm perfectly capable of preparing myself, Mother."
Lady Evangeline laughed, the sound like bells chiming. "Nonsense! This is a special occasion. Your father has arranged for your attendance at the Valenhall Royal Academy itself! Do you know how many families would sacrifice their firstborn for such an opportunity?" She paused, considering her words. "Poor choice of phrase, perhaps, but the sentiment stands!"
Before he could protest further, she had scooped him from the bed and was carrying him toward the adjoining bathing chamber where steaming water awaited in a copper tub.
"Mother, this is unnecessary," he stated flatly as she began unbuttoning his nightshirt. "I can bathe myself."
"You've been saying that since you were able to talk!" she tutted, continuing her maternal invasion. "And you always miss behind your ears."
'I've successfully infiltrated seventeen secure facilities across three continents and assassinated targets under military protection, yet I cannot escape a bath administered by this woman,' Lore thought darkly as he surrendered to the inevitable.
Forty-five minutes later, scrubbed to within an inch of his life and dressed in what his mother deemed appropriate for a first impression—charcoal gray formal attire with the Steinfeld crest (a silver dagger wrapped in shadow-blooming nightshade) embroidered on the breast pocket—Lore stood in the manor's entrance hall awaiting his father.
Lord Damien appeared precisely on schedule, his own silver hair swept back severely, his expression as unyielding as carved granite.
"You look presentable," he observed, which from him constituted high praise. "The carriage is waiting."
Lady Evangeline fussed with Lore's collar one final time before releasing him with a dramatic sigh. "My baby, off to conquer the academic world! Remember, darling—a Steinfeld serves with both brilliance and discretion."
"Yes, Mother," Lore replied automatically, surprised to find a small, unwelcome twinge in his chest as she pressed a kiss to his forehead. 'Emotional attachment developing despite my countermeasures. Is it this body doing these things to me?' he cataloged. 'Problematic but perhaps unavoidable given sustained proximity.'
The Steinfeld carriage was an understated affair compared to the gaudy conveyances of other noble houses—black lacquered wood with silver fittings, pulled by two matching gray stallions. As they settled inside, Lord Damien rapped twice on the roof to signal the driver.
"The Academy will test you today," his father began without preamble as the carriage lurched forward. "They will assess your essence aptitude, your physical capabilities, and your mental acuity. They will place you according to their findings." His eyes, a darker amber than Lady Evangeline's, fixed on Lore with intensity. "Remember that you represent House Steinfeld in all things."
"I understand, Father."
"Good." Lord Damien's gaze shifted to the passing landscape. "This education is vital to our family's position. While I will personally oversee your... specialized training, the Academy provides connections that will serve you throughout your life. Alliances formed now may determine which throat you cut—or spare—thirty years hence."
The carriage rolled through the countryside, passing farms and small villages before the capital city of Drakmoor rose on the horizon—a sprawling metropolis of stone and timber dominated by the royal palace at its center. As they entered the city proper, Lord Damien continued his lecture.
"The Academy teaches more than essence manipulation and history," he explained, his voice lowering despite the privacy of their conveyance. "It identifies potential. Talents that might serve the Crown or Church in various capacities. You will be watched, evaluated not just for your academic performance but for your... suitability for certain roles."
'Like assassin,' Lore thought. 'Or spy. Or royal executioner disguised as a healer.'
"I will perform adequately," he assured his father.
Lord Damien's mouth twitched in what might have been a suppressed smile. "I expect you to perform exceptionally. Your aptitudes have been evident since you could walk. Most children your age can barely string sentences together, let alone field dress a deer."
The carriage climbed a gentle slope toward a plateau overlooking the city, where a massive stone structure sprawled across several acres—the Valenhall Royal Academy of Arts & War. Ancient trees lined the approach, their branches forming a natural archway that dappled the sunlight across the cobblestones.
As the carriage halted before the main entrance, Lore took careful note of the architecture—four main wings radiating from a central dome, each dedicated to different disciplines according to the emblems carved above their respective entrances. Students of various ages moved between buildings, some in small groups, others alone, all dressed in formal attire denoting their noble houses.
"Impressive security," Lore observed quietly, noting the guards positioned at strategic intervals—some obvious in royal livery, others attempting to blend in as groundskeepers or servants. "At least three layers of protection visible from here."
Lord Damien nodded approvingly. "The future leaders of Valenhall study here. As do the children of potential enemies. The Academy walls have witnessed as many assassinations as graduations over the centuries."
As they disembarked, Lore's enhanced perception cataloged additional details—the slight magical shimmer of wards along the perimeter, the positioning of what appeared to be dormant defense mechanisms built into the stone walls, the careful arrangement of decorative ponds that would force attackers into predictable paths.
'Designed by someone who understood both education and warfare,' he concluded. 'Easily defensible, multiple evacuation routes, secluded areas for private conversations... or ambushes.'
They were met at the entrance by a woman whose ageless features and pointed ears marked her as elven. Her silver-streaked black hair was pulled into a severe bun, and her midnight blue robes bore the insignia of a senior instructress.
"Lord Steinfeld," she greeted, her voice melodic despite its formality. "The Academy welcomes your son." Her eyes, a startling violet that suggested powerful Form essence affinity, assessed Lore with interest. "I am Magistra Elara Moonwhisper, Head of Admissions."
Lord Damien inclined his head respectfully. "Magistra. My son, Lore, is prepared for your evaluation."
The elven woman crouched gracefully to Lore's level, studying him with eyes that seemed to see more than physical appearance. "Hello, young Steinfeld. Are you ready to discover where your talents lie?"
Lore bowed with perfect etiquette. "Yes, Magistra. I look forward to the challenge."
Something flickered across her ageless features—surprise, perhaps, at his articulation and poise. "Interesting," she murmured, rising to her full height. "Come. The testing chamber awaits."
With a final nod to his father, Lore followed the elven instructress into the Academy's central dome. Lord Damien would await the results in the visitors' reception hall, as was tradition—no parent was permitted to witness the essence testing, lest they influence the outcome through their expectations.
The testing chamber was a circular room with walls of polished white stone that seemed to glow from within. At its center stood a pedestal supporting a crystal sphere approximately the size of a human heart. Seven other children waited in a semicircle, all appearing to be around Lore's age, all watching the sphere with varying degrees of anxiety or excitement.
"The procedure is simple," Magistra Moonwhisper explained to the assembled children. "Each of you will place your dominant hand upon the Essence Orb. It will respond to your innate magical resonance, revealing your primary affinity."
Lore observed the other children as they were called forward one by one. A stocky boy with ruddy cheeks caused the orb to radiate deep blue—Force essence. Twin girls with identical copper curls both manifested vibrant green—Flux essence. A thin boy with nervous eyes produced a faint purple glow—Form essence, but weak.
When his turn came, Lore approached the pedestal with measured steps. He placed his palm against the cool crystal, feeling the subtle magical current that ran through it—probing, searching, resonating with his essence.
The orb blazed with intense blue light, casting Force essence shadows across the chamber.
"Powerful Force affinity," Magistra Moonwhisper noted approvingly. "Consistent with the Steinfeld lineage. Well done, young lord."
"I would like to be tested for Flux essence as well, if I may," Lore requested calmly.
The elven woman raised an elegant eyebrow. "That's not standard procedure. Most children manifest only one primary essence."
"Nevertheless," Lore persisted politely.
After a moment's consideration, the Magistra nodded. "Very well. Maintain contact and focus your intent on transformation and flow."
Lore closed his eyes briefly, redirecting his magical focus as instructed. The orb's blue light faded, replaced by a brilliant emerald green that pulsed with vitality.
Murmurs swept through the other children. The Magistra's composed expression slipped momentarily, revealing genuine surprise. "Dual affinity? Remarkable."
"I would like to test for Form essence as well," Lore stated, knowing he was pushing boundaries but calculating that the risk was worthwhile for the advantage such a reputation would bring.
"That would be unprecedented," Magistra Moonwhisper replied, a new intensity in her violet eyes. "But then, so is dual affinity in one so young." She glanced at the other instructors who had gathered at the chamber's edge, then nodded. "Proceed."
Lore focused once more, directing his attention to illusion and perception. The green glow diminished, replaced by a soft purple luminescence that filled the room with shifting shadows.
Silence fell, heavy and absolute.
"By the Sacred Crown," whispered one of the instructors. "Triple affinity."
Magistra Moonwhisper recovered her composure with admirable speed. "It seems the Academy has been graced with a truly exceptional student." She placed a hand on Lore's shoulder, guiding him away from the orb. "Lord Steinfeld must be informed immediately. This... changes your educational path considerably."