Taboo Recruitment

Eric blinked awake to the pale light spilling through the dorm window. The new room wasn’t bad: a narrow bathroom tucked off the corner, two beds with a flimsy wooden separator between them, and a modest living space with a pair of desks and chairs. Cozy. Almost too cozy.

Could use a little more privacy, he thought. Maybe I’ll rig up a curtain.

He pushed himself upright with a groan, feeling heavier. Every muscle argued like like he ran 10 blocks. Forcing a breath, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. Breakfast. A little food and movement, and maybe the weight pressing on him would ease.

He stretched, rolling his shoulders, then frowned. Where was Welyvyne? The room was quiet except for the soft rustle of blankets. Curious, he padded to the other side of the divider—only to find her still curled in bed, hair spilling across the pillow like a splash of bright paint.

“So much for ‘bright and early,’” Eric muttered with a grin.

Her aqua hair shifted as she groaned and pulled the blanket higher. “Bright and early is… relative,” she mumbled.

Eric smirked. “To what? Noon?”

One eye cracked open, golden against the morning light. “Elves don’t rush mornings. We savor them.”

Eric snorted. “Tell that to Seltherin,” he muttered, pulling his long coat over his shoulders. “If I’m late, he’ll have me meditate for a solid week.”

That got her sitting up, hair a tangled halo. “Ugh. Fine. But if anyone asks, tell them I was meditating.”

“Sure,” Eric chuckled. “Meditating with a blanket over your head.”

They rushed through the morning routine, trading space in the narrow bathroom like two soldiers in a drill. It was awkward, crowded, and somehow already funny.

By the time Welyvyne had her books stacked neatly in her arms, Eric was still rubbing at his temples. First Star Spellcraft loomed ahead — four bells long. Four bells.

Exactly how long is a bell, anyway? he thought. An hour? Half an hour? I haven’t even considered how long a day is here.

He drifted so deep into the question he didn’t notice Welyvyne waving a hand in front of his face. “Hey. Lost you. You okay?”

Eric blinked. “Uh, yeah. Just thinking about time. Not that it would help to ask you how long a bell is — your frame of reference is already this world’s frame of reference.”

She stared at him. “…What?” Then her eyes dropped to his empty hands. “Where are your books?”

He glanced around, deadpan. “Guess I lost them.”

Her face tightened. “You’re kidding.”

Eric grinned and pulled them from his inventory in a casual sweep. “Nah. Right here.”

Her gasp was so loud it turned heads in the hall. “You have a storage item?”

“Not an item,” Eric said, clearly enjoying himself. “A storage ability. Came with the summoning. Pretty neat, huh?”

Welyvyne’s eyes widened, then narrowed in the same heartbeat. “That’s… remarkable.” She tilted her head, smirk tugging. “Hmm. You can carry my books too, then.”

Eric chuckled. “Sure thing.”

They pushed through the big double doors into the dining hall. A thin line of maybe ten students waited at the serving counter, their trays clattering against the rails as they shuffled forward. The rest — no more than twenty — were already scattered across the benches and long tables, half-eaten plates in front of them.

But as Eric and Welyvyne stepped inside, forks stilled. Heads lifted. Conversations shrank to whispers, little knots of students leaning together as if their arrival had pressed pause on the whole room.

Eric raised his brows. “Huh. You weren’t kidding. I figured it’d be packed by now.”

“Mmhmm,” Welyvyne said, brushing past him toward the line. “Told you.”

They stepped into the line, trays in hand. Behind them, the big double doors groaned again — and suddenly it was as if someone had opened a floodgate. Students poured into the dining hall in twos and threes, voices rising, the quiet swallowed by a tide of chatter and footsteps.

One boy slowed when he spotted them in line. For a heartbeat he just stood there, tray clutched awkwardly. Then, without a word, he shuffled forward again — but left a wide pocket of space between himself and Eric, farther than politeness required.

Eric leaned sideways, voice low. “Do I stink, or are they really that bad about humans?”

Welyvyne didn’t look at him. “Probably.” Her tone was flat, cold enough to sting worse than the distance.

They finished loading their trays: some kind of thick oatmeal, a slice of bread that smelled heavenly with honey dripping down the crust, and red potatoes smashed flat and fried with a seasoning that looked suspiciously like grass and pepper. Eric wasn’t sure if the cooks were geniuses or lunatics, but the smell made his stomach growl.

They picked a table near the center. Within minutes it became a kind of invisible repellent — every student who passed gave it a wide berth, drifting toward other benches without a word.

Eric leaned in, muttering under his breath. “This is really starting to feel rude. I mean, yeah, I get it — you being a, what did he call you, a lowlander, and me being human. But this much? Really?”

Before Welyvyne could answer, a tray plopped down across from them with the finality of a thunderclap.

“Well, well, well.”

A small-framed elf slid into the seat. Her skin was a deep, dark blue — darker than most elves Eric had seen — and her jet-black hair fell in a neat, sharp cut that made her grin look even wider.

“If it isn’t my two new friends,” she said, eyes glinting. “Name’s Lyren. and you two? You’re the talk of the school right now.”

Eric blinked. “Oh. Didn’t realize our looks were so popular.”

Lyren burst into laughter so hard she snorted. “You’re kidding, right? You think it’s because you’re human and she’s a lowlander?” She cackled a few more seconds, wiping her eyes.

Eric raised an eyebrow, halfway to a retort, when Lyren finally managed to rein it in.

“Nope,” she said, leaning forward with conspiratorial glee. “It’s because you’re Bonded Academics. The rumors about your love life are flying through the halls.”

Eric dropped his head into his hands with a groan.

Welyvyne, on the other hand, lit up. She leaned forward eagerly, eyes dancing below her hood. “Oh? What are they saying?”

Before Lyren could answer, another tray landed on the table with a thump.

A tall, broad-shouldered elf stood over them, neat white hair tied back in a severe ponytail, every strand in place. His blouse and trousers looked freshly pressed, the kind of tailoring that screamed noble purse.

“At last,” he said with a satisfied smile. “A table with people worth talking to. Kaelen Valmyr. Mind if I sit?”

Eric didn’t miss a beat. “Sure, why not. The taboo table seems to be recruiting today.”

Lyren leaned back, both eyebrows climbing high. “Valmyr? As in Lord—”

Kaelen cut her off with a sharp wave of his hand. “Don’t. Don’t even think of calling me ‘lord.’ I’m just Kaelen. My father is Lord Valmyr, and I can’t stand how my people strut around like they’re better than everyone else.”

Welyvyne folded her hands on the table, amusement glimmering in her eyes. “Huh. I never would’ve guessed my first day here would start like this. Did you, Eric?”

Eric let out a chuckle “At this point? I can’t even figure out how not to get myself into situations. Honestly, I’m just waiting for a dragon to land and vow its undying love to me.”

The table went silent. Three pairs of eyes fixed on him, stunned.

Eric blinked back at them. “…What?”

After a beat of silence, they all chuckled and dug into their food.

Lyren pointed her fork at Eric, eyes glittering. “So, Eric — you were summoned, what, half a moon ago? If I’ve got that right. How in the world did you end up as a Bonded Academic with Welyvyne here?”

Eric shrugged, spooning up oatmeal. “It just… made sense. We’re both mage artificers, both outcasts. Safer to stick together.”

Welyvyne lifted a hand, sheepish. “Yeah. That was mostly me. We didn’t exactly realize it would… imply things.”

Lyren snorted, nearly choking on her bread. “Well, if it’s any consolation—” she grinned wickedly, “—I love this for me. I mean you. But definitely me.”

Kaelen had been watching the back-and-forth in silence, eyes flicking between them. At last he spoke. “So… logic, then. Nothing… strange?”

Eric nearly choked on his potato, coughing into his hand. Welyvyne’s eyes went wide.

“Nope,” Eric croaked. “Nothing weird. All perfectly innocent. Scout’s honor.” He even lifted two fingers in mock salute.

Kaelen gave a single nod. “That’s what I thought. Rumors are almost always wrong.”

Lyren chuckled, leaning in. “Yeah, but they’re fun to fan. I can promise we’re going to be flocked with questions.”

Kaelen just shook his head. “Not me. No one here will question me. They’re too afraid I might get upset.”

“Well then,” Lyren said, eyes glinting with mischief, “I guess I’ll just have to fan the flames for both of us. This is so great.”

Eric let out a long-suffering sigh. “I really wish you wouldn’t. It’s bad enough with who we already are.”

Lyren pouted for half a heartbeat, then brightened again. “Oh, come on. Bad attention is still attention. You two are famous. Well—” her grin turned wicked, “—infamous, at any rate.”

Welyvyne finally set her fork down. “We should probably start heading to class. Where are you two going?”

Lyren groaned. “First Star Anatomy.”

Eric perked up. “You’ve got anatomy?”

Lyren gave him a slow blink. “Yes. Healers kind of need to know how the body works if we’re going to fix it.”

Eric’s eyes widened. “A healer? Really? That sounds… incredible. I’d love to hear more about that.”

Lyren’s grin sharpened. “Oh? Going for two girls at once now?”

“Probably—wha...” Eric started, then froze as Welyvyne giggled under her hood. “That sounds like fun.”

Eric froze, mouth snapping open and shut like a stranded fish.

Kaelen clapped him on the back, perfectly straight-faced. “I see why they like you. You react so well to being messed with.”

Eric was still staring, blank as a slate, when Welyvyne leaned closer. “I think we broke him.”

Lyren smirked. “Yeah. He’ll be fine.”

Welyvyne turned to Kaelen. “So, where are you headed?”

Kaelen, still watching Eric with a flicker of concern, finally answered. “First Star Combat. I suppose I’ll see you three at lunch.”

“Yep,” Lyren said, hopping to her feet. She slung her bag over her shoulder, grin returning full force. “And don’t you two do anything without telling me.” She winked, then sauntered off toward her own class.

Welyvyne lingered a moment, watching him. “Are you okay?”

Eric turned to her slowly. “Yeah.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… feel like this is going to be a thing for a while.”

She chuckled, eyes glinting below her hood. “You mean our new group of friends, or us messing with you?”

Eric groaned. “Probably both.”