The dormitory list was nailed to the wall at an odd angle, crooked and smeared, like someone had quickly done it and also the students checking it. Ethan found his name buried in the middle under General Housing – East Wing. Not a surprise. It wasn't the nobles' wing.
He'd expected it. His father might've served the crown as royal executioner, but that didn't grant them noble status. It just made them necessary and the Academy didn't let anyone forget the difference.
Getting to the East Wing took longer than it should've. Twisting corridors that narrowed with every turn as the stonework grew older, and the hangings on the walls were threadbare. Even the scent shifted to less perfumed oils, more damp linen and the sharp smell of cheap soap.
His room was modest. Two beds, two desks, one narrow window staring out at the kitchens. The kind of place built for commoners. His roommate was already unpacking, hunched over a worn satchel that had clearly seen more years than the lad using it.
"You're Ethan, right?" The boy turned with a quick, open grin. His brown hair was a tousled mess, and his frame looked stretched out, as if he'd hit a growth spurt and his limbs hadn't gotten the message yet. "I'm Kaleb Dal."
Ethan took his hand. The boy's grip was rough and solid. Farm work, probably. "Glad to meet you, Kaleb"
He studied Kaleb for a beat, remembering that this lad would one day become one of the realm's fiercest soldiers. Ethan remembered that. A man who'd lead when others broke. But today, he was just a nervous lad far from home, trying not to look like it.
"You'll settle in fast," Ethan said, sitting down on the nearest bed. "Once the training begins, it all clicks."
"You sure?" Kaleb asked, hope slipping through before he could hide it.
Ethan nodded. "Yeah. I'm sure."
Down the hallway, voices rang out. Laughter - sharp and loud.
"So this is where the commoners sleep. Let's see how much dirt they brought in."
More laughter. The clack of boots approaching.
Kaleb's expression tightened. "Should we … y'know…?"
"Don't react," Ethan muttered. "That's just it."
Three boys stopped in the doorway. One of them, Ethan recognized was Marcus TideCaller, son of the Duke of Tidehaven. He remembered Marcus mellowing out over time, but that will come later, after the Academy knocked him around a bit.
But the one in front wasn't Marcus.
He looked older. Nineteen, maybe. Everything about him screamed perfection - his posture, his perfect jawline, the way his finely tailored coat and breeches seemed to fit just right. The kind of person who believed the world revolved around him - and had never been proven wrong.
"Well, isn't this quaint," he said, eyeing the room like it was an exhibit in a museum.
"Something we can help you with?" Ethan asked, calm and steady.
"Just paying our respects," the boy said smoothly. "Name's Raymond Blackthorn. My father's the Duke of Stoneheart."
Ethan went still as he heard the name. In his old life, he hadn't met Raymond until after the Academy. The heir to House Blackthorn and the future host of a demon general. Now here he was, untouched - at least for now.
"This is Kaleb Dal," Ethan said. "I'm Ethan Cole."
Raymond paused on his name. "Cole, right. I've heard about you."
"You have?"
He offered a thin smile. "Your father's work has... its place. Gruesome, but necessary. I wonder if that particular skillset of beheading runs in the blood."
Kaleb flinched. Marcus looked away like he'd rather be anywhere else.
"I wouldn't know," Ethan replied coolly. "Haven't had to find out."
Raymond's gaze flicked to Kaleb. "And you? Where's home?"
"Up north, sir. My family farms."
"A true salt-of-the-earth tale," Raymond said. He reached for one of Kaleb's books, leafing through it like it might be infected. "Hope you're ready for a very different standard here."
"I'll manage," Kaleb murmured.
Raymond let the book fall shut with a faint clap. "Well. I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other. It's not a big place."
They left as smoothly as they'd arrived, their laughter trailing behind them like perfume.
Kaleb collapsed onto the mattress. "That was…"
"Expected," Ethan finished. "They want to see what rattles you."
"How'd I do?"
"You stayed upright. That's what counts."
But Ethan's mind had already drifted. To Raymond. To the polished menace behind his words. To the shadow he would become. The real question now wasn't whether Raymond would fall.
It was whether anything inside him was still worth saving.
**************
Later that night, after the halls had gone quiet, Ethan slipped out.
The training grounds under moonlight were unrecognizable. The Circle of Truth, where he'd fought earlier, now looked shrunken in the shadows.
He'd borrowed a training blade from the equipment shed. Simple blunted steel, balanced well enough and familiar in his grip.
He started slow, coaxing old instincts into a body that didn't quite match them yet. The basics first - stances, footwork, the sequences his father had taught him. Then the ones from later years. The complex ones. The ones that weren't supposed to be taught yet.
Captain Ethan Cole had known all of these forms. Once. Before he was executed for treason. Before he'd died trying to warn a kingdom too blind to listen.
That man was gone.
The boy left behind needed to become something else.
He moved faster, blade slicing through the air. These weren't beginner drills. These were the real techniques - the ones you didn't learn until blood had been spilled and your hands had stopped shaking.
The sword grew heavier as the routine went on, or maybe that was just the weight of everything pressing down.
The Academy slept while he moved, but he could feel its pulse. Somewhere in those walls were the future leaders of the realm and monsters wearing their faces.
Master Donovan was probably still awake too, staring at the ceiling, turning Ethan's name over in his head.
Eventually, Ethan stopped. The blade lowered as his chest heaved. The night was still.
He had a job to do, a future to plan, prevent the corruption from taking root. Stop the kingdom's descent before it began and it would start here. At this school, with these people.
Beating it would mean becoming part of it. Learning the system. Hiding in plain sight. Pretending.
Again.
He should've been exhausted.
Instead, he felt more awake than ever.
Captain Cole had died and someone else needed to take his place.
But who…?