Chapter 5 The Trash-Rank Welcome

The morning bell rang through the halls, its deep sound reaching all the way down to the dark basement. Dax stood up from his hard bed and pulled his baggy blue jacket straight. He checked the bandage, wrapped around his right hand, making sure they were tight and completely hidden inside his pocket. He took his cheap bag, unlocked the door, and walked up the dark steps into the main building.

The classroom for the first-year students was large and bright. The walls were smooth and white, and rows of fine desks faced a large desk at the front. Most of the seats were already full of noble students talking and laughing.

Dax walked through the door. The room grew quiet for a brief moment as the students looked at his oversized uniform and muddy boots, but then they went back to their conversations, completely ignoring him.

Dax looked around for an empty seat. He found a small desk in the very back row, near a large open window that looked out onto the courtyard. He walked over, sat down, and placed his canvas bag on top of the desk.

"You are in my seat," a loud voice said.

Dax looked up. A tall boy with broad shoulders and neat blonde hair stood in front of his desk. His uniform was perfectly clean, and a fine sword hung from his belt. Two other noble boys stood behind him, crossing their arms.

"There is no name on this desk," Dax said, keeping his voice quiet and level.

The blonde boy laughed, and his friends laughed with him. "My name is Asher Hayes. Everyone in this class knows that the back row belongs to my family's followers. A zero-rank trash from a broken branch does not sit here."

Dax did not move. He kept his left hand flat on the desk. "The other seats are full. I will stay here."

Asher’s face became cold. He reached out with one hand, grabbed Dax’s canvas bag by the strap, and tossed it straight out the open window. The bag fell through the air and hit the dirt courtyard below with a soft thud.

"Now your bag is outside," Asher said, leaning close to the desk. "Are you going to go get it, or do I need to throw you out the window too?"

The other students in the front rows turned around to watch. Some of them smiled, waiting to see what the slum boy would do.

At the front of the room, the door opened and a middle-aged man in a long dark robe walked in. This was Instructor Vance. He carried a thick book and set it down on the main desk. He looked toward the back of the room and saw Asher standing over Dax, but he did not say anything. He turned his back and began writing on the board.

Dax looked at the instructor, hoping the man would stop the fight. But the instructor completely ignored them, acting as if Dax did not exist. Dax realized then that the rules of the academy did not protect people like him.

Dax stood up slowly from the chair. He did not want to cause a scene that would make the elders look at him too closely. He stepped away from the desk and sat down directly on the hard floor against the back wall, pulling his knees up.

Asher sat down in the chair, kicking his boots up onto the desk Dax had just left. He looked down at Dax on the floor and smirked.

"That is better," Asher said. "A dog should know its place on the ground. But you forgot something, Silverton. When a lower branch meets the main heir of the Hayes family, you are supposed to bow your head."

Dax kept his eyes fixed on the floor between his boots. "The lesson is starting."

"I do not care about the lesson," Asher whispered, his voice rising slightly. "Look at me and bow your head, trash."

Dax remained completely still, his face blank. He refused to look up, and he refused to bend his neck.

Asher’s smile disappeared. He took his feet off the desk and leaned forward. Suddenly, a heavy, invisible weight filled the back of the room. Asher was releasing his spiritual energy, directing the pressure straight onto Dax’s shoulders.

To the other noble students, it was just a faint pressure, but to someone with supposedly clogged meridians, it was supposed to feel like a heavy rock pressing down on their spine.

Dax felt the invisible weight hit him. Inside his right jacket pocket, the hidden seal grew warm, ready to push back against the attack. Dax immediately used the simple breathing method Silas had told him about, keeping his internal energy locked tight inside his chest. He forced his own body to look weak. He let his shoulders drop and allowed his head to be pushed down toward his knees, making it look like Asher’s power was too much for him to handle.

"Look at him shake," one of Asher's friends whispered, laughing. "He cannot even take a fraction of Asher's pressure."

The classroom filled with quiet giggles. The noble students watched Dax struggle against the invisible weight, enjoying the sight of the lowborn boy being pressed into the dirt.

Dax kept his jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. The humiliation burned in his throat, hotter than the seal in his hand. He could easily stand up and break Asher's hand, but he pictured Lila sleeping in the basement room, relying on the safety of his cover story. For her sake, he swallowed the pride. He stayed on the floor, letting them think he was broken.

Instructor Vance finally turned around from the board, coughing loudly to get the class's attention.

"Open your books to page ten," the instructor said, his voice completely flat. He did not look at Dax, who was still sitting on the floor in the back corner. "Today we will discuss the basic pathways of spiritual energy. Some of you already know this, but those with... less fortunate biology should pay attention."

Asher drew back his spiritual pressure, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied look. "You got lucky today, trash. Make sure you are on your knees next time."

The invisible weight lifted from Dax's shoulders. He took a slow, deep breath, his heart beating fast against his ribs. He stayed on the cold floor for the rest of the two-hour lecture, listening to the instructor talk about powers he was not supposed to have, while the noble students occasionally turned around to point and whisper at the boy who had to sit in the dirt.