The lecture hall was filled with the scratching of quills as students scribbled down notes. The professor paced at the front, explaining advanced theories of elemental balance, a subject that most first-years struggled with.
Reinhardt leaned back slightly in his seat, his quill resting untouched. His eyes weren't on the chalkboard, but on the swirling image of magical runes projected above it. This is wrong, he thought. The theory is incomplete—elemental harmony isn't just about opposing forces, it's about flow.
A faint smile tugged at his lips. He had lived through this lesson once before. He knew how the theory would later be revised by scholars… decades from now.
Elira, sitting beside him, tilted her head. "You're awfully quiet today, Reinhardt. Don't tell me you're lost already?" she teased.
He gave a soft chuckle. "Not lost. Just… thinking."
On the other side, Alden squinted. "Thinking? You look like you're plotting to overthrow the Empire with that smirk."
Reinhardt quickly shook his head. "Nothing of the sort." He forced his expression back to neutrality, though the amusement lingered in his eyes. He couldn't afford to let anyone suspect the truth.
Still, whispers had begun to spread in the academy. His sudden sharpness, his ability to answer difficult questions when pressed, his uncanny calmness—students noticed. Some called him diligent, others… a budding genius.
Yet Reinhardt himself remained silent, careful. He gave answers only when necessary, hiding the depth of his insight.
But not everyone was fooled.
Far above, in one of the balconies where the senior students sometimes sat to observe, a young noble lady watched him with curious eyes. She rested her chin on her palm, a faint smile on her lips. House Drachenfels' second son… interesting. He doesn't move like the others.