The low murmur of conversation gradually shifted from food critiques to real, tentative exchanges.
Near the second row of tables, Narek Zin leaned slightly forward, his plate forgotten. He spoke in a quiet, oddly confident tone to Yamato, who listened with slow, considered nods. Narek explained his fascination with ancient spirits hiding inside objects—things even older than the city itself. Yamato offered nothing in return except one short comment: "Old things speak if you listen long enough." It wasn't warm, but it wasn't hostile either. It was... understanding, in a way only two people accustomed to solitude could manage.
Not far from them, Seena and Riven found themselves caught between two beast tamers debating the ethical treatment of elemental creatures. Riven, dry as ever, simply muttered, "Please don't adopt a salamander tonight," while Seena hid a giggle behind her glass.
The relaxed mood lasted until a sharp voice cut through the air from the center tables.
"I'm just saying," barked one array apprentice, waving a half-eaten roll like it was a staff, "combat runes are inherently superior to enhancement arrays! You can't argue pure functionality!"
"You're missing the point of augmentation layering entirely," replied a blacksmithing apprentice, jabbing back with a piece of grilled fish. "Without enhancement arrays, your fancy attack sequences would collapse mid-cast!"
The energy shifted fast—friendly but sharp, the kind of argument only students truly passionate about their craft could throw without meaning real harm.
Davor leaned toward Alex, eyebrow raised. "Should we...?"
Alex waved him off, setting down his own plate with a heavy clink. He wandered casually toward the brewing skirmish, snatching the argumentative roll from the array apprentice mid-sentence.
"I see the theory of 'argue louder, win harder' is still alive and well," Alex said dryly.
The two apprentices stiffened.
"Fun thought," Alex continued, tossing the roll into the air and catching it. "In a real fight, while you two are arguing which rune is more superior, you'd both be knocked out by someone who actually finished their spell."
The apprentices blushed hard. Sheepishly, they muttered apologies and quickly turned their attention back to their food.
Alex flashed them a lazy thumbs-up before meandering back toward his column, where Davor and Riven clapped quietly under their breath.
"Bravo," Davor said. "Lecture without the lecture."
"Still hungry," Alex replied. "I need a cookie after that."
But peace only lasted so long.
At the far end of the courtyard, near the fountain, a minor disturbance rippled—plates clattering lightly, a flash of startled laughter. Alex sighed through his nose and tilted his head.
Elsha Marr stood surrounded by a small group, sheepishly holding up a now-glowing metal goblet that she had, somehow, chemically supercharged mid-toast. Little sparks danced from its rim like fireflies.
"I... might have over-imbued the catalysis," Elsha said, not even pretending it wasn't her fault.
"Elsha," Alex called across the courtyard without raising his voice. "We're trying to eat things tonight, not summon small thunderstorms."
A few people laughed. Even Elsha cracked a grin, carefully deactivating the goblet's enchantment with a short, efficient flick of her wrist.
Davor leaned closer. "Why do I feel like this is going to be a common occurrence?"
"Because you're right," Alex said dryly, brushing nonexistent dust from his sleeves. "She's our future... maybe explosion-prone... asset."
The moment settled easily again, laughter softening the tension.
Alex waited until the servers refilled a few glasses, then picked up a goblet himself and tapped it lightly with the side of a fork.
The ring was clear, sharp, and carried across the courtyard.
Every head turned.
Alex lifted his glass lazily, with no fanfare. His voice was relaxed but carried a certain ease of command.
"First off—cheers to the food," he said. "If anyone spontaneously grows extra arms from the curry, please notify a server. Otherwise, enjoy it and survive dessert."
Laughter broke out across the gathering, lighter now, more genuine.
With that simple, offhanded remark, the dinner officially shifted from formal to... strangely comfortable.
Alex didn't sit back down immediately. Instead, he leaned against the nearest table, arms loosely crossed.
"Now that we're all stuffed and mildly glowing," he said casually, "mind humoring me with something simple?"
A few curious looks flickered around the courtyard.
"What made you want to join the Academy?" he asked. "First thing that comes to mind. No fancy speeches. Just real answers."
For a moment, no one moved. Then—
"I want to build something that lasts," Vinya said quietly from behind her half-eaten plate.
"Knowledge," murmured one of the alchemy apprentices. "And access to restricted libraries."
"Reputation," said a blacksmith apprentice bluntly.
Someone in the back muttered, "To beat people up legally," earning scattered chuckles.
Alex listened, nodding. "Good reasons. Honest."
He waited a beat, letting the answers settle.
"Now," Alex said, voice still light, "what if I told you that ambition, skill, and potential don't mean much without the right people next to you?"
A few apprentices shifted uncomfortably. Some leaned in closer.
"I'm not offering promises," Alex continued, "but I am laying out a possibility. We can either claw forward separately, scrambling for scraps... or we can build something bigger. Something that actually survives the mess."
"Survives what mess?" someone called, half-serious.
Alex grinned lazily. "The mess you don't see yet."
A ripple of uncertain laughter followed. Doubt hovered in the air—thick, predictable, but not hostile.
Riven caught Alex's eye from the side and gave the tiniest of nods. Time to seal it without pressure.
Alex shrugged one shoulder with deliberate nonchalance.
"Look. I'm not selling anything. This is dinner. You're free to eat, leave, ignore me entirely, and become very powerful hermits. No hard feelings."
He raised his glass again.
"But for those who're curious about a different kind of future—one where you're not just a name in the Academy ledger... stick around."
As the dinner wound down, the energy shifted. Plates emptied, conversations mellowed, and the buzz of excitement that had filled the courtyard earlier settled into a comfortable hum.
Around thirty percent of the guests lingered after the final desserts were cleared—a decent number, considering how many had come out of nothing more than curiosity.
Alex, leaning lazily against one of the empty serving tables, casually surveyed the stragglers. He spotted Brix animatedly talking with a few martial apprentices, Seena deep in a more serious conversation with a history student, and Riven quietly orbiting the edges, pretending not to keep watch.
Not bad. Not bad at all.
He also noticed who wasn't around.
Tavi had slipped out early, probably bored the second the dessert courses started getting names like "Mystic Mango Medley" instead of "Flaming Ice Shards" or whatever else might've caught her attention. Vinya, predictably, had vanished even earlier—no goodbye, no wave, just a neatly emptied plate and a chair pushed politely back under the table.
Alex caught the empty spots immediately. His eyes narrowed a fraction—then he simply shrugged.
'Expected. They're not ready for this circus. Yet.'
Besides, thirty percent staying was already a win. A bigger win than he had dared to expect when he'd first decided to pull this dinner stunt.
Davor slid in next to him, nursing a half-full glass of whatever punch was still surviving the night. "Not bad," he said under his breath. "Not bad at all."
Alex grinned sideways. "Told you food solves most problems."
"Except for the ones it causes." Davor gestured subtly toward two apprentices engaged in an increasingly heated argument over whether gravity-enhanced dumplings should be considered culinary heresy.
Alex waved it off. "Minor fallout."
Across the courtyard, Selena could be seen conducting a quiet but terrifying cleaning operation—directing servants like a general, ensuring no evidence of chaos survived until morning.
Everything else could wait. For now, the seeds were planted.
The next moves... those would be the real challenge.