The dinner's last crumbs had barely been swept away before the real questions started to surface.
The thirty percent who lingered weren't here to admire the dessert platters anymore. They lingered in small knots across the courtyard, speaking quietly, weighing the risk of simply staying longer.
Alex stayed where he was, leaning against the stone pillar, arms loosely crossed. He knew this part. Give them space. Let them make the first move.
Sure enough, a weapon apprentice—a stocky girl with a cut across her knuckles that looked barely healed—stepped forward first. She wasn't shy about it.
"You talked about building something different," she said bluntly, voice carrying just enough to draw the others in. "What exactly is this? A guild? A house? A gang?"
Alex didn't blink. "None of those," he said calmly. "Yet."
A few apprentices exchanged glances. Some folded their arms. Others shifted their weight from foot to foot, hedging their bets.
Another voice jumped in before Alex could continue—one of the array apprentices, sharp-eyed, skeptical. "You want us to throw away years of careful work just for some vague network?"
Alex smiled, small and easy. "No. I'm not asking anyone to throw anything away. I'm offering a different ladder to climb—one you can actually see the top of."
There was a beat of silence. A few looked intrigued. More looked wary.
A diplomacy apprentice, thin and wiry, spoke next. "And what's waiting at the top? Glory? Money? Territory?"
Alex shrugged one shoulder. "Depends what you want. I'm not handing anyone a crown. I'm handing a blueprint—and asking if you know how to build."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd now—soft, cautious.
Someone muttered near the back, "And if it collapses?"
Alex's gaze shifted toward the speaker without hardening.
"Then you're still further ahead than if you spent your life waiting for someone else to hand you a chance," he said simply.
The answer wasn't grand. It wasn't inspiring. But it was honest—and that made a few heads tilt, just slightly.
Davor stayed back, watching. Not interfering. Not yet.
Another apprentice—a lean boy from the elemental division—crossed his arms. "You talk like this is simple. It's not. People don't like it when others start building their own ladders."
Alex smiled faintly. "Good. That means we're doing it right."
A snort came from Riven, standing at the fringes, arms folded like a stone statue. Whether it was approval or amusement, nobody could quite tell.
An older alchemy apprentice, maybe nineteen at most, raised her hand almost shyly. "What about support? You're one person. If we get caught standing with you—"
Alex cut her off gently. "You won't be standing alone."
He let that sink in a moment longer before continuing.
"This isn't about joining some revolution overnight," Alex said, voice steady but grounded. "It's about building alliances that don't fall apart when things get ugly. It's about making sure no one has to bend the knee just to survive."
Somewhere near the back, someone gave a soft grunt of agreement.
"You'll have training. You'll have resources. You'll have backing. But no, there won't be banners waving yet. No slogans. No grand oaths under the stars."
Alex straightened from the pillar slightly, letting the low courtyard lights catch the edges of his profile.
"This is quiet work. Careful work. Not for glory-hunters or thrill-chasers."
The air grew heavier. The ones still here understood, or at least were trying to.
Someone finally asked, "What about enemies?"
Alex didn't sugarcoat it.
"You'll make some," he said. "Powerful ones."
He scanned their faces—some flinched, others firmed up.
"Some families. Some guilds. Maybe even parts of the Academy itself. But you'll also have each other."
More shifting. Calculating glances passed between the apprentices.
Alex waited. Let them think. Let them breathe.
When it seemed like the questions might dry up into silence, Riven stirred from his post and said, not without humor, "He makes it sound like he's handing out poison and calling it tea."
Alex laughed quietly. "Better poison you pick yourself than poison you're forced to swallow."
The tension broke slightly. A few chuckles, a few smirks.
Still, he could feel it—the weight of the room shifting. Some would walk away after tonight. Others might sit on the idea for weeks. But a core handful? They were hooked already. They just didn't realize it yet.
He let the air settle a moment longer, then lifted his half-empty glass.
"No contracts. No demands. No one's leaving here tonight chained to anything."
He smiled—calm, confident, human.
"But if you're tired of waiting for the world to hand you scraps, maybe... just maybe... it's time to build something that can't be ignored."
He tipped his glass in a lazy salute.
Then he drained it, setting it down without ceremony.
The conversations didn't stop after that. If anything, they grew—small, cautious, honest.
Exactly what Alex wanted.
The conversations slowly shifted from general doubts to sharper, more tactical questions.
One apprentice—a wiry, dark-haired boy from the blacksmith division—lifted his hand slightly. No arrogance, just directness. "Alright," he said. "Suppose some of us are interested. What's your immediate plan? What's step one?"
Alex didn't hesitate.
"Step one," he said, "is information."
He let that word settle before adding, "About everything. About you. About the Academy. About the real resources freshmen get. About what's missing that no one talks about."
A few nods around the courtyard. The smart ones already knew information was power. The smarter ones knew freshers weren't usually given enough of it to survive the first year without bruises.
Alex continued easily, "Once we know what we're working with—people, supplies, contacts—we can figure out where the gaps are. Where demand's high but supply's low."
Someone toward the back frowned. "You're thinking... business?"
"Startup," Alex corrected smoothly. "Small scale. Quiet. Nothing that flags the major houses right away. Something useful enough to make us harder to ignore... and harder to crush."
That earned a few thoughtful expressions. Even Riven lifted an eyebrow slightly, like he hadn't expected Alex to lay it out so plainly.
A few of the apprentices started whispering amongst themselves, the energy shifting again—not hesitant this time, but calculating.
Then, from the far right, a sharp voice cut through the buzz.
"And what about your department?"
The tone was casual, but the room immediately stiffened a fraction.
Not everyone here understood why that was a loaded question—but enough did. Enough to recognize the weight under the words.
Alex didn't flinch. He didn't look annoyed. He smiled—a real one, light but carrying an edge.
"I suppose I could pick the department that's winning the betting pools," he said dryly, "but where's the fun in that?"
Scattered chuckles from the crowd, but some faces stayed serious. Watching. Waiting.
Another voice, quieter but far more careful, asked, "You do know tomorrow's the final day, right?"
Alex nodded casually. "I keep track of my own deadlines."
"Then what's your plan?" asked a tall diplomacy apprentice, folding his arms. "You can't be accepted everywhere."
The crowd around them grew sharper now—like steel subtly being drawn from sheaths.
Alex didn't dodge. But he didn't serve up a clean answer either.
"My plan," Alex said, voice still casual, "is to not get boxed in by other people's expectations."
He pushed off the pillar, stepping closer to the center without looking aggressive.
"I don't need a department to define me. I need a department that lets me build."
More whispers. Some skeptical. Some interested.
Someone muttered, "What about prestige?"
Alex smiled faintly. "Prestige buys you respect. Until it doesn't. I'd rather build something that doesn't vanish when politics shift."
A few apprentices exchanged looks that clearly meant, this kid is either brilliant or suicidal.
Probably both.
Alex clapped his hands once, lightly. "So. Immediate plan? Gather resources. Build our own leverage. Make sure no matter where we're placed, no one gets to treat us like pawns."
He glanced around the courtyard, meeting eyes without flinching.
"And as for tomorrow..." His voice dropped just slightly—still calm, but firm. "Tomorrow's when we make the first move visible."
The ones who understood nodded grimly.
The ones who didn't? Well. They would learn.