Rebirth of a Fey Lord

Eogan followed Lorcan down the corridor toward the dining hall, his stomach twisting in hunger and apprehension. The day's events had been overwhelming, and the idea of facing a room full of strangers again wasn't exactly appealing. As they stepped into the expansive hall, he couldn't help but be struck by the grandeur of it all. High arched ceilings framed by glowing chandeliers made of enchanted crystals cast warm light across long rows of tables, each teeming with students.

The din of chatter filled the air, but Eogan's mind wandered back to the earlier Theory of Arcane Arts class. Professor Maelis had launched into a lecture about the foundational principles of human magic, detailing how runes, incantations, and focus objects channel mana from the environment. It was all so... clunky. The words swirled in his head like a jumbled echo.

They're grasping at threads, Eogan thought as he shuffled behind Lorcan to the food line. Fey magic didn't require such laborious effort. It was a symphony of intent and nature—fluid and intrinsic. Humans' reliance on rigid theories and tools felt like trying to sculpt a masterpiece with blunt instruments. His fingers tightened on the tray he carried, the memories of his past life as a fey lord brushing against his consciousness like a distant melody. But they're trying. The thought surprised him, softening his judgment. They had courage, at least.

"Oi, Eogan," Lorcan whispered, elbowing him gently. "You look like you're a thousand leagues away. What's on your mind?"

"Nothing," Eogan replied quickly, returning to the present. "Just… thinking about the class."

Lorcan smirked. "Yeah, a lot to think about, huh? Anyway, hope the food's good. I'm starving."

The pair found a table near the center of the hall, a precarious middle ground between the long table on the right—occupied predominantly by nobles in their embroidered robes—and the left side, where commoners in simpler attire gathered. As they sat, Eogan noticed the glances—quick, measuring looks from the noble side and more open curiosity from the commoners. Clearly, their choice of seating broke some unspoken rules of segregation.

Eogan barely had time to start eating before the first confrontation began. A group of students approached their table, led by a tall boy with a sharp jawline and an air of entitlement. His robes were adorned with intricate patterns, marking him as someone of considerable wealth and status. The noble's gaze swept over Lorcan before settling on Eogan, disdain etched into his expression.

Eogan sighed, knowing what was coming.

"Well, isn't this a sight?" the boy sneered. "Lorcan, the commoner, babysitting a child. How quaint."

Lorcan's shoulders stiffened, but he kept his focus on his plate. Eogan's chest tightened as the insult hung in the air. His grip on his fork tightened.

"He's not babysitting anyone," Eogan said, his voice steady but firm. "We're classmates."

The noble arched an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Classmates? Oh, forgive me. I didn't realize the Academy had lowered its standards so drastically."

Laughter rippled through the noble's entourage, but Eogan's glare silenced it. He rose from his seat, meeting the boy's gaze.

"Lowering standards? You mean admitting people based on merit rather than pedigree?" Eogan asked coolly. "Sounds like a step up to me."

The boy's eyes narrowed, and his tone darkened. "Know your place, child. No matter how special you think you are, you don't belong here."

Before Eogan could respond, another voice cut through the tension.

"That's enough, Daric."

All heads turned to see Lirien approaching. His expression was calm, but his tone carried an undeniable authority. He stepped between Eogan and Daric, his relaxed posture belying the weight of his words: "We're all here to learn. Maybe you should try focusing on that instead of making a fool of yourself."

Daric's face reddened, his followers murmuring nervously behind him. "This has nothing to do with you, Lirien. Stay out of it."

Lirien's smile didn't waver. "Oh, it has everything to do with me. Especially when you're harassing people who don't deserve it."

Daric's gaze hardened. "Why are you, a prince, wasting your time with commoners and… children? Shouldn't you be sitting with your own kind?"

Lirien's eyes glinted with amusement. "My own kind? That's rich, Daric. Last I checked, I'm free to speak to whomever I please. Or did someone appoint you the arbiter of social circles while I wasn't looking?"

Daric's mouth opened, but no retort came. Lirien pressed on. "And since we're discussing 'kinds,' perhaps you should consider the example you're setting for your house."

Daric bristled but remained silent, his face mixed with anger and unease.

Lirien gestured toward Eogan and Lorcan. "In case your ignorance got in the way of your good sense, this child you're belittling is the hero's descendant. Maybe you should rethink your attitude."

Gasps rippled through the nobles, and even Daric looked momentarily stunned. His eyes darted to Eogan, then back to Lirien.

"You expect me to believe that?" Daric scoffed, though his voice wavered.

Lirien shrugged, his smile widening. "Believe it or don't. Doesn't change the truth. Why don't you and your friends find another table before you further embarrass yourselves?"

Daric's jaw clenched, but he didn't argue. With a muttered curse, he turned on his heel and stormed off, his entourage trailing behind him. The tension in the hall dissipated like smoke, and conversations slowly resumed.

Eogan sank back into his seat, his pulse still racing. "You didn't have to do that," he said quietly, looking at Lirien.

Lorcan, however, stared at Lirien as if he were seeing him for the first time. "Wait... You're a prince?" he asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and awe.

Eogan's eyes widened, his earlier shock at Lirien's title finally registering. "You're royalty?"

Lirien laughed, the sound light and unbothered. "Technically, yes. But I'd rather you didn't make a big deal of it. I'm just Lirien, all right? Titles don't matter here."

Eogan exchanged a glance with Lorcan, both still processing the revelation. "Still... you could've mentioned it earlier," Eogan muttered.

"And miss the looks on your faces? No chance," Lirien said with a wink. "Now, eat up. You'll need your strength for tomorrow."

"I guess that also explains how you already knew about how I'm descended from the hero and have a unique circumstance for being here," Eogan muttered to himself.

As they returned to their meal, Eogan couldn't help but feel a spark of gratitude. Lirien's intervention had turned an uncomfortable moment into something manageable. For the first time since arriving at the Academy, he felt a glimmer of hope that he might find his place after all.

But as he picked at his food, another worry crept into his thoughts. Lirien seemed friendly now, but what would happen if he discovered Leanan or Neala? A sprite and a baby imp, creatures that most humans feared and hunted, weren't exactly the kind of companions one could explain away easily. If a member of the royal family realized they had tamed monsters... Eogan swallowed hard. It would be disastrous—for him, Lorcan, and the creatures who had become their friends. He had to make sure their secret stayed safe, no matter what.