Bonded Academic...Oops

Eric shifted forward in the line, clutching the parchment slip Seltherin had pressed into his hand. Schedule. Books. Uniform requisition. All the mundane things of school, but here in a mage city, even mundane felt gilded with importance. The murmur of voices filled the vaulted chamber, students in robes of every shade jostling for their turn.

Then a voice, sharp and cutting:

“By the Seven Threads, who let a human into our school? Look at him—standing there like an animal pretending to be a student.”

The line faltered, heads turned. A few chuckles rippled. Eric kept his eyes forward, the corners of his mouth twitching. Really? This old routine? Didn’t even bother with originality.

He adjusted his grip on the slip, shifting his weight like nothing had been said.

“Not going to answer, beast?” the noble-born sneered, stepping a little closer. His companions smirked, waiting for Eric to rise to it.

Before Eric could open his mouth, a quiet voice from behind him: “You shouldn’t ignore them.”

Eric turned slightly. A hooded figure had stepped into line behind him, face shadowed, but her posture radiated calm assurance. Her voice was low, meant for him alone.

“They’ll keep pressing,” she said, “until you react. If you don’t, they’ll find a way to make you. And when you do, the crowd will already be against you.”

Eric gave the hooded figure the barest tilt of his head. “Thanks for the tip,” he murmured back. “But I’m not really the type to dance just because somebody’s shaking a tambourine.”

Her lips curved in a wry smile beneath the hood. “That’s what worries me. You’ll look like prey that doesn’t know it’s being hunted.”

The noble-born student sneered louder, clearly unwilling to be ignored. “See how he hides behind silence? Maybe he doesn’t understand our tongue. Does the beast even speak?”

That one got laughs. Eric exhaled through his nose, slow and controlled. Alright, patience. You’ve seen middle school cafeteria politics before, this is the same thing with fancier robes.

Without turning, he said lightly, “I hear you just fine. I just don’t answer barking dogs.”

The laughter cut sharp the other way, a few muffled snorts from students further down the line. The noble-born flushed, mouth opening to snap something back—

—but the hooded girl stepped forward, her voice clear enough now for the whole hall. “Enough.”

The single word rang like a spell. It wasn’t loud, but the conviction in it pressed the sneer flat against the noble-born’s face. He faltered, caught off-guard.

Eric raised an eyebrow at her. “Guess I should thank you for that one.”

“You shouldn’t,” she said, though her mouth twitched toward a smile. “They’ll only resent you more now. But at least you didn’t let them own the stage.”

Before Eric could answer, the noble-born sneered again, gaze flicking between them. “Oh, a lowlander and a beast sticking together. How fitting.” His voice dripped disdain. “I’ll be glad when you two can’t cut it and are dismissed like the animals you are.”

He turned on his heel, robes snapping as he stalked away, as if he’d just spoken an undeniable truth.

The silence he left behind was heavier than the insult itself. Eric blew out a slow breath, muttering, “Real charmer, that one.”

The hooded girl’s hand clenched at her side, then relaxed. “Don’t mistake his venom for strength. It’s only borrowed power—he’s someone’s son. That’s all.”

Eric gave her a sidelong glance. “Yeah, well. Sons don’t get to choose their fathers. But they do choose whether to act like jackasses.”

Finally, Eric extended a hand, casual but sincere. “Eric. New barbarian in town.”

She hesitated just a moment before clasping it, her fingers cool and strong. “Welyvyne.”

“Welyvyne,” Eric repeated, testing the name. “Good to meet someone who isn’t already sharpening their claws at me.”

“Don’t be so sure,” she said, though her eyes glimmered beneath the hood. “I haven’t decided what I think of you yet.”

Eric held her hand a beat longer before letting go. “So, uh… do you mind if I lean on you a bit for guidance? I could really use the help. First time I’ve ever been to an elf school, after all.”

Her hood tilted, and though he couldn’t see her full expression, he caught the spark of curiosity. “Humans have schools?”

“Where I come from, we do.”

“Interesting,” she murmured, the faintest trace of surprise in her tone. “I’ve never seen one. But I suppose that shouldn’t surprise me. It’s not as though anyone here would be caught dead in a human settlement.”

Eric gave a wry smile. Figures. Even curiosity comes with barbed edges around here.

“Oh—” she said quickly, lifting a hand as if to wave the words away. “I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t have an issue with humans. It’s just… well, I’m sure you’ve noticed I don’t exactly get treated like the others.” She tugged her hood lower, her voice dropping. “I’ve never been to a human settlement, and no one here would ever go. I’m sorry if it sounded like I was saying I wouldn’t go to one myself. That wasn’t what I meant at all.”

Eric studied her for a moment. The awkward honesty felt real. “It’s fine,” he said, his grin tugging back into place. “Trust me, I’m used to worse.”

They shuffled forward in the line, the low hum of conversation around them. Welyvyne kept her hood low, but Eric could sense she was still stewing over her earlier words.

“I still feel bad,” she said at last. “If you want, I’d like to… guide you. Help you find your footing. If you’ll let me.”

Eric tilted his head, mock-grave. “Well, the wound from your earlier statement really cut me deep. Don’t know if I’ll recover.” His grin undercut the words, softening them. “But — I’d like that. I really could use a friend. And you seem like good people.”

Her shoulders eased, tension draining by degrees.

Welyvyne tugged her schedule from her sleeve and compared it with his. “Let me see yours.”

Eric handed it over. She tilted her head, eyes narrowing as she traced the lines. “First star… Spell Craft.” A pause, then her brow arched. “You’re a mage? I didn’t know humans knew how to cast.”

Eric gave a half-shrug. “I dunno. Haven’t met another human on this world before to compare.”

Her eyes widened, a spark of recognition lighting. “Wait. I know who you are. I thought they sent you back— I mean, you’re the summoned guy, right? Why didn’t they send you back? How did you—”

“Whoa, whoa.” Eric lifted his hands, trying to stem the flood. “One at a time. I misspoke, and you just happened to catch it. It was supposed to be a secret.”

She laughed outright, the sound quick and sharp. “A human attending this school and you think that’s going to stay a secret?”

Eric sighed, shoulders sinking remembering all the students seeing him naked and bald. “I wish it would.”

Welyvyne handed the schedule back with a shake of her head. “Well, that’s not going to happen. Word will get around. Doesn’t matter, though — most people won’t see past you being human to care.”

Eric caught the way she said it — again. A little too practiced, too reflexive. “You don’t really care how they see you, do you?” he asked quietly.

She blinked, her hood shifting as if she’d flinched. For a moment, the tough veneer cracked. He wasn’t wrong — and she knew he knew it.

“It’s just…” Welyvyne sighed, her voice softer now. “I understand how you must feel, with all the prejudice.”

Eric gave a crooked smile. “Yeah, it doesn’t feel great, honestly. But I’m a big boy — I know who I am. As long as things stay civil, I’ll ignore it.”

Welyvyne tilted her head, studying him. “That’s probably the most mature answer I’ve ever heard. I mean… I’m jealous, but I’m also impressed. Did you rehearse that line?”

“No,” Eric said, shaking his head. “This is honestly just who I am. On my world, we have racism — and my race is the worst for it. It feels strange being on the other side of it now, but… I think I’m growing from this. The amount of grace the people my race targeted showed us — it puts things in a new light. Not that I ever did it myself, but…” He trailed off, his voice heavier. “It’s not like I always stood up against it either. So…”

Eric’s words trailed into silence, the weight of them hanging between them.

“Wow,” Welyvyne said at last, her brows knitting. “So you’re seriously taking this with… grace. Grace you learned from example.” She shook her head slightly, a faint, almost disbelieving smile tugging at her lips. “That is… I don’t even know what that is. But… wow.”

“Yeah,” Eric said with a small laugh. “This got really heavy, didn’t it?” He clapped his hands together, breaking the tension with a grin. “So. What do you have for your first class?”

“Oh yeah,” Welyvyne shook her head, snapping herself out of the heavy moment. “I’ve got First Star Artificing.”

“Aw, that’s too bad,” Eric sighed. “That means we won’t be in artificing together.”

“Wait—what?” Welyvyne snatched his schedule from his hands, scanning it quickly. Her eyes lit up. “You’re an Artificer too? I’ve never met someone as young as you who’s an artificer!”

Eric blinked, caught between her excitement and the memory of Seltherin’s raised brows. Huh. She’s genuinely happy about it. Seltherin acted like I just pissed in his oatmeal.

“Yeah, I—” was all he managed before she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the front of the line. Only a few students remained.

“We need to change your schedule so we can be in the class together,” she declared. “I do not want to be partnered with anyone else. Half of them would probably make my enchantments explode just for fun.”

“Um… okay,” Eric said, trying to keep up. “Sounds like a good idea. Though, how do you know I won’t make our projects explode from ignorance?”

Welyvyne laughed, bright and unguarded. “Ha! At least I know you won’t purposely try to kill me.”

At the counter, Welyvyne slid both schedules across the desk. “We’d like our classes together, please.”

The administrator adjusted his spectacles. “So… you want to register as Bonded Academics, then?”

Eric blinked. “A what now?”

“A bonded academic,” the man said patiently, “is a path designed to strengthen both students by binding their progress together. You share grades. If one fails, both fail. Not common, but those who choose it rarely falter. There are perks, too — like a larger dorm room.”

Eric glanced at Welyvyne. She raised her brows. “Huh. That actually sounds pretty good. You planning to fail, Eric?”

He spread his hands. “Not intentionally. But I don’t exactly know what I’m walking into.”

“I think you’ll be fine,” she said with a shrug. “Someone your age already being named an artificer? That’s not the kind who flunks.”

“You barely know me. We met today. And—hang on—Seltherin said artificers usually take decades to even get the option.”

Welyvyne snorted. “Whoever Seltherin is, he exaggerates. We all start school around fifty. Except you, apparently.”

Eric froze. “Wait. You’re fifty?”

“Fifty-two,” she corrected lightly. “Does that bother you?”

Eric thought back on the “children” in robes all around him and laughed under his breath. “Actually? That makes me feel a lot better.” He nodded. “Alright. Why not. Could make my life easier having someone help me adjust.”

Welyvyne turned to the administrator. “Yes. We’ll take the bonded path.”

“Very well.” The man gathered their papers. “Pass me your schedules and dorm keys. I’ll assign you a new room in the North Wing.”

Eric stretched, tucking his new dorm key into his pocket. “Alright then. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Welyvyne’s smile flickered warm. “Bright and early. Looks like we’ve got Spellcraft, First Star, right at first bell, then First Star Runes, First Star Artificing… and finally, Dueling.”

“Dueling?” Eric echoed, brow arched. “Why do we have dueling? I thought this place was about learning, not getting punched.”

“Everyone has dueling,” Welyvyne said with a small laugh. “It’s essential. We learn to defend ourselves—against monsters, wild magic, and sometimes our own mistakes.”

Eric groaned softly. “So you’re all good at this already?”

“Most of us,” she said, smirking. “Why? You’re not?”

He chuckled under his breath. “I grew up in a world where combat meant hitting the snooze button twice.”

Welyvyne laughed, shaking her head. “You’re going to have fun in that class.”

“Fun isn’t the word I’d use,” Eric said, grinning despite himself. “See you at breakfast, then?”

“Yeah,” she said slowly, looking up at him. “That sounds great.”

Eric nodded. “Good. I should check in with Seltherin, let him know how enrollment went.”

“Of course.” Her gaze drifted back to her schedule. For a heartbeat she just stared at it, brows knitting as though something didn’t quite add up. “Okay. Bye.”

She walked away slowly, still scanning the page, steps a little too thoughtful.

Eric watched her go, curiosity tugging at the edge of his thoughts. What’s got her so deep in her head? With a shrug, he turned toward Seltherin’s office.

Eric rapped on the heavy oak door.

It swung open almost at once, Seltherin framed in the glow of lamplight. “I trust enrollment went smoothly?”

Eric gave a lopsided smile. “Yeah. Mostly. Some noble kid tried to start a fight.” He paused, then added with a spark of pride, “But someone—who I think I can actually call a friend now—had my back.”

Seltherin’s brows rose. “A friend, already?”

“Didn’t see that coming either,” Eric admitted, stepping inside.

The food smelled incredible — roasted something that kind of reminded him of pheasant wrapped in flaky pastry, barley cakes drizzled with spiced honey, and a pot of dark tea steaming with citrus and herbs Eric couldn’t name. His stomach growled before he even sat down.

They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes until Eric spoke around a mouthful of pastry. “So… enrollment went fine. Made a new friend. Turns out they’re an artificer too.”

Seltherin dabbed his mouth with a cloth. “Well, that is advantageous.”

“Yeah,” Eric said, nodding. “Since our tracks lined up, we figured it made sense to… you know, do it together.”

The older elf froze, fork halfway to his mouth. His gaze locked on Eric. “…Please tell me that doesn’t mean what I think it does.”

Eric scratched his neck. “If you think it means Bonded Academic… then, uh, probably.”

Seltherin set the fork down very slowly. “You met someone today. Knew them for half a bell. And you decided they were fit to be tied to you in one of the most binding arrangements the Academy allows.”

Eric shrugged helplessly. “Look, I know it sounds reckless, but it felt like a win/win. We’ll study together, practice together—”

“And live together,” Seltherin cut in, voice sharp. “Which now makes this person as much my responsibility as you are.”

Eric’s fork clattered against his plate. “Wait, what? I really need to stop agreeing to things that make me say that.”

Seltherin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine. What is the name of this… student, so I know who I must now meet?”

Eric chuckled nervously, a grin tugging just one corner of his mouth. “Funny story, that.”

Seltherin gave him a long, knowing stare. “Tell me they are not female.”

Eric winced. “Uh… that wasn’t exactly brought up when we signed the papers.”

Seltherin groaned. “So. Bonded Academic. With a female. More than that… human and elf. You realize the taboo this creates?”

Eric finally sighed, resigned. “Her name’s Welyvyne.”

Seltherin leaned back, expression halfway between disbelief and inevitability. He covered his face with both hands, muffling his words. “You are going to be my death, boy.”

He walked the short corridor on autopilot, thoughts a noisy tumble. I haven’t even seen them, he told himself. Maybe they keep covered because they’re disfigured. Maybe they won’t even be here. Maybe they live outside campus. He fumbled for the key, sighed, and fitted it into the lock. “Well, here goes,” he muttered.

He pulled the door open—and froze.

There, sprawled in the common area with one leg tucked over the other, was an elf who could not possibly have matched the mental checklist Eric had been running. Small, bright-eyed, and impossibly alive, she looked up from a book with hair the color of shallow sea and skin like burnished gold. She jumped to her feet with a grin that lit the room.

“Isn’t this great? We get to live together!” she squealed, practically vibrating with excitement.

Eric gaped. He didn’t know whether to laugh, apologize, or faint. She was the last thing he’d expected.

He closed the door slowly behind him and managed, somehow, “Did you know about this?” His voice came out thinner than he wanted.

Welyvyne blinked at him like he’d asked if the sky was blue. “No—well, not before they assigned the rooms. But as soon as I realized, I got… excited. I won’t have to be alone.”

“Oh. No—no, I mean, I’m not upset.” Eric blinked to buy time. “It’s just—uh—odd. I didn’t expect—”

She laughed, the sound bright and easing. “Who cares what anyone else thinks? I’m excited. This will be great.”

Eric felt some of the tension ebb. “Yeah. It’ll be nice not living alone.” He hesitated, then added, “Also—apparently you have to come with me when I report to my handler. They made him responsible for me.”

Welyvyne’s head tilted. “Your handler?”

“Yeah.” Eric shrugged. “He’s the one who took responsibility when I was summoned. The AAA—some Academy authority—wants someone to keep an eye on me in case I do something… catastrophic. You know, explode a classroom or accidentally enchant the tea.”

She laughed, bright and incredulous. “Like you could do that.”

He managed a lopsided grin. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

She shoved a cushion at him, already rearranging the little space into something livable. “Come on. Tell me everything. Breakfast tomorrow, first bell—right?”

“Right,” he said, and for the first time that day the future felt like something to look forward to.

I hope my wife understands how innocent this was, hmm nope, she would kill me, definitely kill me.