The winter of quiet dignity was officially over. It died the morning Alicia decided my future lay in mastering Elven tea ceremonies.

  "The Academy awaits!" Alicia announced, slamming a stack of leather bound books thicker than my thigh onto her desk. "And you, little monster, are going to ace the entrance exam."

  I straightened in my high chair, ready for some real work. 'Finally! Let's get to the advanced magic.'

  Alicia’s eyes were gleaming with the manic intensity of a person who saw a lifelong rival’s downfall tied to a one year old’s test scores.

  "Since you have no lineage, you must substitute with impeccable etiquette, vast cultural knowledge, and the ability to hold a conversation without drooling," she lectured. "The test is designed for the nobles. Calista made this application possible for a human , it's unprecedented. Do not waste my chance to make her my maid! Er, I mean, your chance to learn advanced magic!"

  The price of power was apparently The Elven Finishing School. I had to endure this torture through the freezing winter in hopes of finally escaping it by spring.

  The lessons began. They were agony.

  Lesson 1: Advanced Elven Etiquette ,The Spoon Betrayal.

  Alicia placed a tiny silver spoon and a bowl of oatmeal mush in front of me. "The Pinky Lift is for Starwine. For broth, you cup the bowl and maintain eye contact. You are making soup eating look like a wrestling match, Vivian."

  I wanted to scream. I scooped the mush, aimed and splat. Half on my chin, half on the table.

  Alicia sighed, massaging her temples. "Again. Imagine the Dean of the Academy is watching."

  'I'm a grown man and I'm being failed by a spoon,' I thought, my internal rage reaching critical levels.

  Nora, watching from the hearth, only nodded. "Good, Oliver! He's learning manners! You eat like a bear, Oliver."

  Lesson 2: Mathematics ,Simple Arithmetic, Elven Style.

  Alicia drew five little apples on my slate and then one more. "How many, Vivian?"

  'Six,' I thought. Simple enough. I tapped the slate.

  "Six, yes!" Alicia chirped, then immediately ruined it. "But observe the arrangement. The five form a perfect pentagram, while the lone apple disrupts the balance. The aesthetic tension creates a potential energy imbalance. This is the Arithmetic of Noble Discord. Now, Tink of the the spiritual significance of the number six in relation to the Elven harvest moon cycle."

  I stared at the numbers. 'It's one plus five. Six. It’s always six. Why are you bringing the moon cycle into basic addition?!'

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  Lesson 3: Literature , The Sad Tree Poetry.

  Alicia read Elven poems aloud: "Oh, ancient oak, thy leaves doth weep for the shade of the sunless sky..."

  I pretended to listen, doodling crude runes in the margins of my practice slate. Weep this, tree huggers. Where's the plot? The explosions?

  Alicia caught me yawning. "Pay attention! The test includes essay responses on 'The Soul of the Forest.' Nobles eat this up."

  Lesson 4: Kinetic Theory ,The Graceful Fall.

  "Since Nora has forbidden you from a real horse," Alicia said, pulling out a soft wool blanket and placing it on the floor, "we must substitute with theoretical practice. You must learn how to fall with dignity. A noble never simply tumbles; they execute a controlled deceleration."

  She then had me stand and repeatedly push myself over onto the wool blanket, rating my posture during the fall.

  I collapsed onto the wool for the seventh time, looking utterly ridiculous. 'I am training for a fight against a dragon someday, and my current skill is "Controlled Deceleration onto a Sheepskin."'

  The worst moment, the absolute nadir of my winter training, came when Alicia finally got to the good stuff.

  "Alright, enough falling," she said, pulling out a small, smooth Aetheric Orb. "Magic. The first lesson is controlling a basic flow..."

  Before she could finish, the door to the Healer's Hut burst open, and Nora marched in, her face a mask of fierce disapproval.

  "Alicia!" Nora's voice was sharp enough to cut glass. "What is that orb? Is that..."

  "It's a channeling tool, Nora," Alicia replied, annoyed. "I am teaching the boy how to properly direct his mana. It's safe."

  "No!" Nora snatched the orb away and tucked it into her apron. "It is too dangerous! He is only a baby! You will not put my son at risk with your Elven tricks. No magic until he is at least five! That is final!"

  My internal monologue was a primal, drawn out scream of agony. She canceled my fast track to power! The one thing I actually need! I wanted to yell, "I'm not a baby , I have two Rings! I can handle it!" But I could only whine and fuss.

  Alicia sighed, defeated. "Fine, Nora. More Literature it is."

  Oliver, who had witnessed the entire exchange, immediately puffed out his chest. He saw Alicia shut down, which was great, but he was also jealous she was spending so much time with his "genius."

  "That's right, Alicia," Oliver grumbled, marching into the corner. "Forget that fancy, weak magic! A true man protects his home with skill!"

  He grabbed his short hunting bow and the tiny, child sized bow he had crafted for me.

  "Vivian!" Oliver announced, kneeling before me. "We're going to resume bow practice! A good bow teaches patience, focus, and strength! Something that fancy book won't teach you!"

  He handed me the tiny bow.

  Nora dropped the heavy mortar and pestle. She whirled around, fire in her eyes.

  "Oliver!" she bellowed, her voice shaking the rafters. "You will not give that child a projectile weapon! He is a baby! He could put an eye out!"

  Oliver immediately recoiled, stuffing the bows behind his back. "B-but Nora! It's tradition! I started at three! It's good for discipline!"

  "It is good for the casualty ward!" Nora declared. "Now go chop more wood! The house is freezing!"

  Oliver hung his head, looking utterly defeated, shuffling out the door with a loud thump of his axe.

  I was stuck. Blocked from magic by Mom Logic, blocked from martial training by Mom Rage,not that I was complaining about the martial part, and stuck with Elven Prep School.

  Alicia returned to her book, tapping the chapter on Elven Courtship Dances.

  "See, Vivian?" she said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "You must study harder. Because if you fail, I lose the bet. And if I lose the bet, I won't get to turn Calista into my personal maid, and I'll have to keep teaching you myself."

  She leaned closer. "So, study hard, little genius. Endure this. In ten years, we crush those nobles and you get your proper magic tuition."

  I picked up my slate, grumbling, and began to copy the name of the seven major Elven poets. The cold was outside, and the torture was inside. My only hope was the coming of spring.