Solvane stroked his beard. "In that case, I'd like to see what you can do." The room fell silent. The students all turned toward me, eyes filled with anticipation and curiosity. I raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
"Come," Solvane said, gesturing to the front of the room. "Show us what you know of runes and arcane magic."
I could feel the eyes on me as I pushed myself to my feet and strode toward the center of the classroom. A wooden podium sat there, inscribed with basic magical circles—likely meant for demonstration purposes.
Now, I could have easily done something insanely powerful. I could have carved runes into the very air, woven spells that bent reality, or summoned raw cosmic energy just to watch their jaws drop.
But that wouldn't be fun. Instead, I decided to take a very basic, beginner spell—something even a child could cast—and elevate it into something incredible.
I placed my hand over the podium. The students leaned forward, expecting something grand. I merely whispered a single incantation, drawing a single rune of light.
A soft, golden glow appeared, forming a simple floating orb above my palm. Some of the students blinked in confusion. A few whispered among themselves.
"That's just a basic light spell."
"Didn't expect something so… simple."
"I thought he'd do something crazy."
Just wait. I flicked my fingers and the simple glowing orb suddenly shimmered, then split into two, then four, then ten, until there was an entire constellation of golden lights floating in the air.
Then, with a single breath, I guided them. Not controlled, not forced—but guided. The tiny lights shifted—spinning and weaving into intricate patterns, forming runic symbols in the air.
I let the spell flow like water, allowing the natural currents of mana to shape it rather than trying to force it into a rigid structure.
I raised my hand, and the lights swirled into the shape of a dragon, its wings outstretched. I lowered it, and they rippled into a wave, dancing like fireflies in the night.
The class was silence, eyes wide and mouths open in shock. Solvane, for the first time, looked genuinely impressed. Finally, I let the lights fade, dispersing the magic into the air.
I turned back to face the class, shoving my hands into my coat pockets.
"And that," I said casually, "is the difference between controlling a spell and guiding it."
The girl from earlier gasped softly.
"So that's what you meant…"
I nodded. "Most people treat magic like a hammer and nail—forceful, crude. But real magic? It's an art. A dance between intention and energy. The more you fight it, the less it obeys. But if you guide it…"
I gestured to where the lights had once been.
"…it becomes something else entirely."
The students looked at me differently now. Even those who had been hesitant about my presence were staring with a mix of awe and newfound respect. Solvane chuckled, slow claps echoing through the room.
"Very well done, Your Highness," he said, his golden eyes gleaming. "I dare say you might just be more wizard than prince."
"If only you knew."
***
After the lecture ended, I lingered in the classroom, watching as the students slowly packed up their materials. They threw occasional glances my way, unsure whether they should acknowledge me again or pretend I wasn't there.
I had seen this kind of awkwardness before—commoners and lower nobility weren't used to interacting with royalty like this.
I wasn't having any of that.
"Alright," I said, clapping my hands together. "I've decided—I like you lot."
The students froze mid-motion, some blinking in confusion, others just staring at me like I'd spoken a foreign language.
"I mean, you actually care about learning," I continued, leaning casually against a desk. "You're not wasting your time playing noble politics or trying to impress people with empty words. That's refreshing."
A few of them exchanged uncertain glances. One of the boys, a lanky student with auburn hair, hesitantly spoke up. "Uh… thank you, Your Highness?"
I grinned. "You're welcome. So—seeing as it's lunchtime, I'd like to invite all of you to eat with me."
The response was immediate hesitation.
One of the girls, a petite student with short black hair, shook her head quickly. "That's very generous, Your Highness, but we—"
"—don't want to ruin my reputation?" I finished for her, smiling warmly.
They all visibly tensed.
I chuckled. "Let me guess. If people see me eating with you, it'll cause gossip. Other nobles might look down on me for mingling with 'lesser' company. Someone might even try to use this as a political weapon against me, right?"
No one answered. Because I was right.
"Let me tell you a little secret," I said, leaning in slightly. "I. Do. Not. Care."
A few of them stared in shock. Others just looked uncertain, as if trying to gauge whether I was joking.
One of the older boys, a red-haired student with ink-stained fingers, spoke up. "With all due respect, Your Highness, you may not care, but we do. If we dine with you, we'll become targets. The noble students already make things difficult for us. This will just make it worse."
I narrowed my eyes slightly, tapping a finger against my arm. "And you think letting them intimidate you into submission is the right choice?"
That seemed to strike a nerve. A few students looked guilty, others turned their heads away.
I sighed. "Listen. If you let them dictate how you live, they'll never stop. You think avoiding me today will make things easier? Maybe for a week. Maybe for a month. But the moment you outshine a noble in class, or a teacher praises you too much, they'll still come after you."
Silence.
Then the freckled girl from earlier, the one who had asked me about runes, hesitantly raised a hand. "You… you really wouldn't mind eating with us?"
I gave her a flat look. "Would I have asked if I did?"
That seemed to settle it.
The students exchanged glances, clearly still unsure but slowly warming to the idea.
"Alright," the auburn-haired boy finally said, rubbing the back of his neck. "But don't say we didn't warn you if this makes things… complicated."
"Oh, I love complications."
With my new acquaintances and my personal servants in tow, we made our way toward the school gardens, where most of the upper and middle-class students had their meals. The moment we stepped onto the garden grounds, every single noble's gaze snapped toward us.
I could hear their whispers.
"Who are those commoners?"
"Why is the Crown Prince with them?"
"Does he not realize how improper this looks?"
"He must be doing it as some kind of joke."
I rolled my eyes.
My group was tense, clearly aware of the scrutiny. The freckled girl had shrunk into herself, the red-haired boy kept adjusting his sleeves nervously, and the auburn-haired student had his jaw tightly clenched.
Even my servants seemed unsure, their eyes flickering toward the nobles who had stopped to watch us.
I just kept walking like I owned the place. Which, technically, I did.
I led them toward an open table under a large tree, where the sunlight filtered through the leaves in warm, golden patches. The table was well-crafted, made of polished white marble, and clearly meant for the elite.
The fact that I deliberately chose it only made the nobles glare harder. Ignoring them, I sat down and gestured for the others to do the same.
Then, hesitantly, they took their seats—though they all looked awkward about it. One of my servants, an older man named Bernard, cleared his throat. "Your Highness, shall I serve you?"
"Of course," I said lazily. "And them too."
Bernard's brows twitched, but he nodded, signaling for the other servants to begin setting the table.
The moment food was placed before them, my new companions froze. There were fine cuts of meat, freshly baked bread, exotic fruits, and delicate pastries—all the things that were usually reserved for high nobility.
The freckled girl's eyes widened. "This is…"
"A normal meal for me," I finished, smirking. "But for today, it's yours too. Eat up."
The auburn-haired boy stiffened. "This… this feels wrong."
I raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"This is food meant for people of your status," he said, his fingers clenching against his lap. "We don't—"
"Oh, shut up and eat," I said, cutting into my steak. "I invited you. Or would you rather offend me by refusing my hospitality?" [A/N: Didn't mean for it to sound so 'douche-y']
That stopped them in their tracks. Because refusing a royal invitation was considered incredibly disrespectful.
Checkmate.
Slowly, awkwardly, they began to eat. At first, it was stiff. They were too aware of the nobles watching us, of the whispers, of the fact that they were dining with the Crown Prince like equals.
So I made a conscious effort to steer the conversation into casual topics—talking about their classes, their studies, their lives outside the academy.
And slowly… they began to relax.
The freckled girl, Marianne, was apparently from a family of scribes and had come to the academy on a scholarship. The red-haired boy, Gareth, was an aspiring enchanter, constantly experimenting with new ways to fuse magic into everyday objects.
The auburn-haired one, Rowan, was a battle-mage in training, but he had zero noble connections, so he had to work twice as hard just to be taken seriously.
The more they talked, the more I realized how much I enjoyed their company.
They weren't fake, weren't trying to impress me, weren't planning how to use me for their own gain.
They were just… people, and I liked that. Meanwhile, the nobles? They continued to watch with scowls on their faces. Like they had nothing better to do.
I didn't care. Because I was having fun. And if they thought their little politics could intimidate me? They were in for a very rude awakening.
=
=
[Half an hour later]
Lunch had settled into a comfortable rhythm. The tension from earlier had faded, and my new acquaintances were finally eating without hesitation.
Rowan had just finished telling me about one of his dueling classes—where he had accidentally blown up a training dummy—when the air shifted.
A familiar presence, annoying, conceited and petty. I could go on and on with different ways to describe my brother.
Benedict.
I heard him before I saw him—his footsteps were too confident, too self-assured, the sound of someone who believed the world bent to his will. I didn't need to look up to know he had a small group of his usual lackeys following behind, eager to laugh at his jokes and agree with whatever nonsense he spewed.
"So this is where you've been hiding."
I kept eating.
Benedict stopped beside my table, his gaze sweeping over my company with thinly veiled disgust. He looked exactly as he always did—flawlessly groomed, dressed in regal attire that practically screamed look at me, I am important.
His silver-white hair was styled in a way that looked effortless but was probably the result of an hour's worth of work. His ice-blue eyes flickered over my companions like they were something he had stepped in.
"You must have hit your head," he said, voice dripping with mock concern. "I know you enjoy acting unconventional, dear brother, but dining with commoners? Even for you, that's a new low."
I picked up another piece of steak, chewing thoughtfully.
"Nothing to say?" Benedict pressed. "What, has their filth infected your ability to speak?"
I hummed and reached for my wine.
His lackeys snickered.
Benedict's eyes narrowed. "Honestly, Camden, I knew you had no sense of propriety, but this? This is embarrassing. For you. For our family. Do you not care what people think? Or have you simply given up trying to act like a royal?"
I finally looked at him, bored. "Are you done?"
Benedict scoffed. "Hardly."
The students sitting with me were visibly uncomfortable. Marianne kept her head down, her shoulders hunched like she was trying to disappear. Rowan had gone rigid, his fingers clenching against his lap, but he didn't dare speak back.
Gareth looked like he wanted to say something, but his jaw was tightly shut, probably realizing that arguing with the prince would only make things worse.
I sighed. "Benedict, I don't particularly care for your whining. So if you're just here to throw a tantrum, spare me the headache and leave."
A flicker of irritation crossed his features. "I would, if you weren't so determined to make a fool of yourself." His gaze swept over my companions again. "Tell me, do they bark when you command it? Or do they just sit there, hoping you'll toss them a scrap of food like the stray mongrels they are?"
Marianne flinched and Rowan's hands balled into fists.
The students looked away, humiliation creeping into their expressions. I exhaled through my nose. I had told them to ignore him.
"Benedict," I said flatly, "is your goal here to bore me to death?"
Benedict ignored me, locking onto Rowan this time. "You're the battle-mage, aren't you?" He smirked. "Tell me, have you won a single duel? Or are you still embarrassing yourself in class?"
Rowan went rigid, jaw tightening.
I saw the way his knuckles turned white, how his shoulders tensed, but he didn't respond.
Benedict turned to Marianne next. "And you, the scribe's daughter. Let me guess—you're here because of some pathetic scholarship? Desperate to prove that commoners can be something more?" He snorted. "How adorable. And tragic. You do realize that no matter how hard you work, no noble will ever take you seriously, right?"
Marianne's eyes dropped further to her lap.
I continued eating.
"Camden." Benedict turned back to me, exasperated. "Why do you even bother with them?"
I swallowed my food, sipping my wine. "Why do you even bother talking to me?"
"Because you're embarrassing yourself!" His voice sharpened. "The Crown Prince of Eldoria, dining with filthy commoners? Do you even realize how this looks?"
"Do you realize how little I care?"
His fingers curled into fists. For a moment, I thought he might actually strike me.
He didn't. Instead, he exhaled sharply and gave a mocking smile. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You take after your mother too much..."
Silence.
I set my wine down, slowly and deliberately.
Everything froze.
Rowan had stiffened completely, as if even breathing might set something off. Marianne's eyes darted between me and Benedict, panic rising. Gareth subtly moved his chair back, as if instinctively putting distance between us. Even my servants, who had stood in professional silence until now, looked suddenly uneasy.
Benedict, unaware of the very real danger he had just placed himself in, continued.
"Honestly," he said, shaking his head. "It's no wonder you lack any sense of dignity. She was nothing more than—"
"Benedict."
My voice was calm and deadly.
I slowly pushed my chair back, standing up with unhurried ease. I didn't move aggressively. I didn't raise my voice. But the tension in the air was suffocating.
Benedict noticed it now. His instincts finally caught up with him, warning him that he had made a mistake.
I tilted my head, eyes locked onto his. "Say that again."
A flicker of hesitation. But Benedict was too prideful to back down.
"Your mother," he said slowly, "was a shameful—"
Before he could even finish the sentence, my hand slammed down onto the table, rattling every plate, every glass, every piece of silverware.
Benedict flinched back, startled.
His lackeys tensed, as if suddenly aware that they were standing too close to something volatile. The garden had gone silent. Everyone was watching.
I leaned forward slightly, my tone dangerously soft. "Benedict. If you value your teeth, I suggest you choose your next words very carefully."
His throat bobbed.
He was finally realizing—too late—that this wasn't the same as our usual sibling squabbles.
I meant it, every word.
I wouldn't tolerate anyone—not a noble, not a commoner, not a brother—disrespecting my mother. My patience had run out.
And Benedict? He had just made a terrible mistake.
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