Marcus stood in the Royal Academy's visitor gallery, trying to blend in with the other observers.
He'd told the guards he was checking on Theodore's education.
They'd looked skeptical but let him pass. Even disappointing nobles had some privileges.
Below him, the outdoor training grounds stretched like a battlefield. Students in academy uniforms stood in perfect rows.
They all stared forward with the intensity of prey animals.
The predator they watched was Professor Seraphina Ashwood.
She stood at the front like winter had taken human form.
Her platinum blonde hair was pulled into a bun tight enough to cause headaches.
Her instructor robes somehow made her look both professional and completely untouchable.
"Today we continue combat magic applications," she announced.
Her voice carried without shouting. "Who can tell me the primary weakness of fire magic in close quarters?"
A few brave hands went up. One student answered, "The caster risks hitting themselves?"
"Correct. Now demonstrate."
The student went pale. "D-demonstrate, Professor?"
"Attack me with your strongest fire spell."
The entire class took a step backward. Except for one student who was examining his sword handle.
Theodore, of course.
"I couldn't possibly attack an instructor," the student stammered.
Seraphina's expression didn't change. It was already at maximum ice.
"This is combat training. Attack me or fail today's participation."
The student raised a shaking hand.
"Fire bolt!"
A decent ball of flame shot toward Seraphina. She didn't move.
At the last second, she raised one finger.
The fire split around her like water around a rock. It vanished into smoke.
"Weak intent. Sloppy form. Next."
No one volunteered.
"Student Theodore."
Theodore looked up from his sword. "Yes, Professor?"
"Demonstrate a proper fire bolt."
"I can't do fire magic. But I could show the correct stance for deflecting magical attacks?"
Marcus noticed several female students sighing.
He couldn't tell if it was relief or something else.
Seraphina's eye twitched slightly. Marcus caught it with his emotional intelligence.
"This is a magic class, Lord Theodore."
"Magic is just another combat form. Swords are more reliable."
The twitch got stronger. "Then demonstrate your theory."
Theodore brightened immediately. Finally, something interesting. "Gladly!"
He stepped forward and drew his practice sword smoothly.
More female students sighed. This time it definitely wasn't relief.
"Attack me with magic, Professor. I'll show proper defensive positioning."
The class held its breath. Challenging Seraphina to magical combat was suicide.
"Very well." She raised her hand casually. "Lightning bolt."
The spell appeared instantly. No chanting, no preparation. Just raw power.
Theodore moved. His blade came up at a perfect angle.
The lightning hit the sword and grounded harmlessly.
"Good form," Seraphina said.
Marcus heard something in her voice. Approval?
"Your footwork needs adjustment. Three degrees left."
"Three degrees which direction exactly?"
And there went the moment.
The tiny opening for human connection dissolved into geometry.
Marcus watched Seraphina's face carefully. His emotional intelligence screamed the truth at him.
She'd offered praise, a conversation starter, anything. Theodore had turned it into math.
"Southeast, relative to your current position," she replied flatly.
Theodore immediately adjusted his stance and started practicing. He'd already forgotten she existed as a person.
"Class dismissed. Practice your forms. Examination next week."
Students scattered like startled birds.
Everyone except Theodore, who kept practicing his adjusted stance.
Marcus leaned forward. Post-class interaction was prime bonding time.
"Professor Ashwood," Theodore called out.
Seraphina turned back. Her expression softened by maybe half a degree.
Still arctic, but slightly less deadly.
"Yes?"
"About the three-degree adjustment. Should I maintain it against multiple casters?"
Marcus wanted to bang his head against the railing.
Your teacher is beautiful! Say thank you! Ask about her day!
Anything except sword angles!
"That depends on their positions," Seraphina answered professionally.
"Grouped casters require a stable stance. Spread formations need dynamic adjustment."
"What about mixed magic types? Fire and lightning have different deflection requirements."
Seraphina paused. Marcus's emotional radar went crazy. She was about to try again.
"These are advanced theories. Perhaps we could discuss them during office hours?"
Yes! Marcus mentally cheered. She's creating one-on-one time!
"That's unnecessary," Theodore said.
"I'll figure it out through practice. Thank you, Professor."
He bowed politely and walked away, already pulling out a notebook.
Marcus watched Seraphina watch Theodore leave.
Her professional mask slipped for exactly two seconds.
She looked exhausted. Not physically tired, but soul tired.
The kind that came from being treated as a walking textbook.
Her hand went to her neck, touching something under her collar.
A necklace? Marcus guessed it held her late husband's ring.
She stood alone on the empty training ground. Then the mask reformed, ice walls at full strength.
Marcus's emotional intelligence was having a meltdown.
This woman was drowning in loneliness.
She'd built perfect walls that no one could see through.
No one except someone trained to see.
Theodore had the emotional perception of a rock.
A very skilled, sword-obsessed rock.
"This is going to be harder than I thought," Marcus muttered.
"Talking to yourself, Marcus? How unlike you."
Marcus spun around. A young noble leaned against the gallery railing. He was about Theodore's age with neat black hair and knowing eyes.
"You're, uh..." Marcus scrambled through inherited memories.
"Forgotten already? I'm hurt." The young man smirked.
"We met at the enrollment ceremony. Briefly."
The memory clicked. This was one of Theodore's classmates. James? John?
"Right. Of course. Good to see you again."
"Likewise. Watching your brother's fascinating display of density?"
"He's focused on his training," Marcus said defensively.
"He just turned down private time with Professor Ashwood to do math alone."
"He really likes math. And swords."
"More than breathing, apparently." The student studied Marcus carefully.
"You're different than the stories say."
"People change."
"Do they? Interesting." He pushed off the railing.
"Word of advice? Professor Ashwood has been alone for three years.
The ice queen act is just that. An act."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because someone should know. And you're here, watching, caring.
That's already more than most."
The student walked away, leaving Marcus alone with his thoughts.
Marcus looked back at the training grounds.
Seraphina was walking toward the academy buildings, shoulders straight but somehow heavy.
His plan suddenly felt stupid.
How could Theodore form a friendship with someone he couldn't even see as human?
The boy only saw "sword technique dispenser."
But Seraphina was a person. A grieving, lonely person hiding behind professional perfection.
"Okay, new plan," Marcus said to himself.
"Help them both. Theodore needs to see people. Seraphina needs to be seen."
He thought about his life coaching experience.
Sometimes you had to work with both parties separately before bringing them together.
"I'll approach her about Theodore's education.
Build rapport. Then gradually help them connect."
What could go wrong?
Everything, probably. But the world was ending in three years. He had to try something.
Marcus left the gallery with new determination. He'd help the ice queen melt and teach his brother that people weren't just sword-related resources.
The fate of the world literally depended on it.
No pressure.