Magic was an art (or science) that required equal parts theoretical knowledge and raw creativity. As such, even for a fresh novice, the curriculum of the Academy of Arcane Sciences included in its curriculum an ample amount of self study, encouraging its students to explore the vast libraries to plumb for ideas.

Of course, being novices, such exploration didn’t mean they’d be allowed to immediately try creating new spells or experiment in the alchemy labs. Instead any potential ideas were carefully presented in a proposal for a senior mage to review, and if the idea was truly interesting and unique enough, the prospective novice might see themselves giving up their free time to pursue their research under the oversight of apprentices or even archmages.

Not many had the chance to, though. Even two weeks after her induction into the academy, she’d seen senior students walking through the halls dejectedly and lamenting and wailing about how their proposals hadn’t been as original as they thought it to be. As it turned out, in the centuries-long history, and thanks to its elvish archmages especially, the Kirin Tor had kept thorough notes about practically every ambitious experiment that came to mind, in however many permutations and angles.

“The laboratories and fields of this storied institution have seen far more failure than any of us will ever know,” the old, regal form of Archmage Cylia had lectured them all with patronizing softness. “From hypotheses that were mundane to grand, with results spectacular to anticlimactic, it is safe to say that the Academy has seen nearly everything.” She emphasized ‘nearly’ with a knowing grin.

“The only reason you’re not being made aware of it is because dedicating a subject to past failures would overly bloat your curriculum, and the Academy doesn’t need a whole new campus just yet.”

Despite that fact, the students were encouraged to keep trying, as much as to temper themselves with dead ends and the fact that their path has been trodden before (which was a surprisingly common thing, Jaina learned) as to get them used to researching on their own terms.

That didn’t mean everyone used the time to pursue the ambitions of having a spell attributed to them though.

Sitting in one of many of the Academy’s cavernous libraries, Jaina heard a fellow classmate pipe up. “Ah. Let me guess, Arcane Gemology…volumes 9 to 15?”

She raised her head to find Kyle walking over their table with a stack of dusty tomes. He placed the books down carefully before answering the question. “It stops at Volume 10. But I found Professor Melfior has his own books on the topic: ‘The Calculus and Matrices of Gem Crafting’. I’ve found five volumes so far.”

“Great,” the classmate, Ralen, replied.

“What’s with the fascination with magic stones, anyway?” another student, Liana, whispered from the other end of the table. “It was crystals before this, and now you’re moving onto gems.”

“Please don’t be so droll as to say it’s because you want to make money,” Ralen dryly added. “You’re going to be a king someday, right?”

Kyle picked a tome and sat down before he answered them. “It’s just…research.”

“About what?” Liana pursued, and Jaina put in some effort not to roll her eyes as she anticipated Kyle’s reply.

“Just some curiosity.”

There it was, the annoying evasive answer he kept giving out whenever you tried asking him for any solid details, whether it is his fascination for gems and crystals, or his delving of aetheric winds, or that momentary bit of dabbling into arcane forging. Kyle had sought out various bits of knowledge, and it irritated Jaina that she couldn’t find the underlying pattern to his research topics.

Still, she had to ask: “Are you sure you don’t need any assistance?”

The answer still hadn’t changed. “I’m fine. Just need to do my reading.”

Jaina suppressed a sigh and went back to her own reading material. If nothing else, Kyle was a ludicrously rapid reader. He’d cleared the issued textbooks in days, and could actually quote them line for line as proof. No doubt he’d pore through his selected tomes today in a quarter of the time she’d take to ingest her own tome.

Annoyance began to gnaw at the edges of her mind, as it always did when her curiosity was stoked and she invariably tried figuring out the king-to-be’s agenda. What was he really looking for in the Academy’s comprehensive libraries?

The only strand of a clue she’d ever get was the words Kyle occasionally muttered as he read.

“None of this looks anything close,” he complained this time, whatever that actually meant. The last time, it was something about probing and harvesting. And that time when he looked into aetheric winds, he was mumbling something about green coloration.

It all really, really did not make any sense at all.

“Oh, gold! Wait, can I make a field out of this?”

Jaina rolled her eyes and crushed her natural curiosity. “Kyle, your voice might draw the librarian golem,” she chided mildly.

“Oops, sorry.” The boy hastily nodded and shrank back into his tome.

Much as she tried not to, Jaina spent the rest of the reading session trying to fit his latest string of nonsense in with the rest of the other random sentences. The inevitable failure to make even a tenuous connection only made her more annoyed for the rest of the day.

While Kyle’s progression in general magical studies was going along steadily, his skill with the practical side of arcane casting was barely mediocre at best. His essays and debates were solid, even noteworthy at times, but the professors always left notes about how woeful his magical aptitude was. His conventional magic, anyway.

The same professors all expressed their curiosity about the foreign magic Kyle had managed under the tutelage of the reclusive Archmage Krasus. With practically no external effort, theories were now abound that Kyle’s lack of orthodox arcane proficiency was due to his skewed mastery of advanced magic that Krasus taught him. Some said that Kyle had become the archmage’s guinea pig after his audacious request.

Korialstrasz did not do anything to dissuade those rumors. In a way, it was half true. Kyle’s lack of arcane abilities was due almost entirely to foreign magic he wielded - ‘psionic’ magic, as Kyle named it. Even his numbness to the Fel and the Void was attributed to it, though that was something the rest of the Kirin Tor didn’t need to know for now.

As it was, Korialstrasz had his student practicing psionics only under his and Vasyrgos’ watchful eye. And after that stunt with the wand, all attempts to channel psionic energy through arcane receptacles was forbidden for the time being. The conversion between magical states was too volatile and required greater skill than the caster had right now. Kyle was lucky that they were using wands that day, rather than practicing on mana gems which held a higher storage capacity.

Still, Kyle’s mastery over psionic magic was comparable to that of a seasoned apprentice in arcane casting. Through the bracer, he could fire off bolts of energy that could be effortlessly guided to shatter boulders. It was hard to react to, the ‘psi-bolts’ did not draw on arcane mana to provide any warning. Even with the knowledge of its casting, neither Korialstrasz nor Vasyrgos could figure out the appropriate spell matrix to create a suitable counterspell.

In the same fashion, the blade of light he conjured was on par with the best dwarven or elven enchanted blades, and even some of the older relics before the Sundering. Despite its ephemeral appearance, the ‘psi-blade’ cut through dwarven-wrought adamantine as if it weren’t there, and it took Vasyrgos almost asking Korialstrasz for help in forming a powerful enough arcane barrier to last more than a few strikes against it. The blue dragon had been annoyed for days because of that.

If not for the relatively short reach of the blade, and the fact that it was practically unique to Kyle at the moment, the dragons might have found a great cause of concern, maybe even worthy of their respective Aspects’ attention. But with Kyle being just as eager to learn about psionics as they were, the three immersed themselves in exploring the limits of this new magic.

Yet, for all the interesting studies within Vas’ lair, Kyle eventually and unsurprisingly found his attention distracted elsewhere.

“Is it possible for me to see Alterac anytime soon?”

Korialstrasz had considered the question seriously, providing an honest answer out of respect for the human.

“It is…unlikely. As part of the agreement with the rest of the Alliance, you will remain a student in Dalaran until your education is done. At most, a visit might be arranged during the semester break, though that would likely require approval from several figures. If you still plan to refrain from antagonizing the Alliance leadership, such an avenue should not be pursued.”

Credit to the boy, Kyle simply fell into a thoughtful frown rather than becoming crestfallen or breaking into a tantrum. “Well…can I make it part of my curriculum? Foundations in statesmanship or something like that?”

“That…”

Hm.

“Why the sudden urge to visit Alterac?”

Kyle shrugged lightly. “I just figured that I haven’t even met my regents yet, or the lands I’m supposed to end up being a figurehead for.”

“Or actually ruling,” Vasyrgos added casually.

“Or actually ruling,” Kyle echoed with a grin.

The boy most definitely had some sort of plan. And considering human youth, those plans would likely be reckless, half-baked and self-damaging.

“And there should be plenty of war-torn, desolate fields there for me to try out some of the spells Vas’ cave can’t accommodate.”

“Boy’s got a point,” the blue dragon quickly chimed in, already eager to figure out the upper limits of Kyle’s psionics. “Surely the magi could be made to find a compromise or a loophole?” Vas then broke into a fanged grin. “If not, we could…engineer a reason.”

Knowing better to leave both human and blue dragon to find…alternatives, Archmage Krasus sought out his peers, arranging a meeting with the Ruling Council. Surprisingly, their approval was far more easily gained than Korialstrasz had expected.

“Admittedly, young Kyle’s studies have hit a rather novel plateau,” Antonidas, the spokesperson and leader of the Council of Six eloquently explained, expertly keeping any blame from being laid on Krasus’ feet. “With his stark contrast in his performance between the theoretical and practical, it might be prudent to rework his advancement.”

The human archmage inclined his head towards Krasus in a polite fashion. “Assuming that you still have interest in educating him?”

“Aye, Kyle has talent that should be carefully nurtured,” Korialstrasz had replied with practiced evenness. “Though considering the incompatibility and the results thus far, I suggest pulling him out of general practical studies altogether. I will fully take over that aspect instead.” That made several curious eyebrows rise, though none voiced it.

“So be it,” Antonidas finalized, admirably keeping his own curiosity at bay. “We can use the time to redraw King Kyle’s new curriculum, and prepare for the necessary changes.”

“My thanks,” Krasus said with a slow, deep bow. “I’ll see to preparations.”

Antonidas gave a final nod. “Perhaps, it would be better that you hire a private escort detail instead of drawing on the Kirin Tor’s soldiery.”

“Of course.” That had been expected and accounted for. Thanks to the consideration of international politics, Vasyrgos needn’t go through the hassle of justifying his mortal cover to the more professionally minded warriors of the Kirin Tor. In fact, Korialstrasz could now rely on his own trusted apprentices and agents to minimize the risks of Kyle’s magic being revealed.

All that was left was figuring out how to fit in Kyle’s lessons once they got to Alterac, and how to do so without any witnesses present.

Regent-Councilor Lommath Whitepine huffed as he hurried to the palace library, a gryphon-delivered parchment scrunched up tightly in his hand. His colleagues rose up with a start as he barged into the designated meeting room for Alterac’s council of regents.

“Ill news?” Brydd asked, his bushy brows raised bemusedly. Lommath ignored the Kul Tiran’s usual lousy humor and marched up to the table. He slammed the parchment down onto its sturdy surface, and found that having the message leave his person did not undo his scowl in the slightest.

“King Kyle Daelam will be returning to Alterac to sit in on a monthly meeting,” Lommath summarized for everyone present, barely keeping to formalities, and immediately any humor the other regents had fled the room.

“Isn’t he supposed to still be in school?” Lady Filia Calomyr asked with a haughty frown, not hiding her condescension at the reason for her posting at all. Months in, and the scion of an old Lordaeron house never got over her dislike of being promoted to her current role. Not enough artisan makeup to keep the bint’s puffy hair in place and the skin of her face fully hidden under a layer of caked powder, probably.

Beside her, the more stoic councilor of Stromgarde shook his head. “It’s in his right to involve himself in the meetings.” Despite Joren’s usually stony features, the scarred veteran from the Second War actually grimaced. “Probably one of his mage tutors thought to send him here just to spite us.”

“The mages are probably just feeling petty from being left out,” Filia remarked, earning nods from Lommath and Joren.

“Magi,” Lommath reflexively corrected. “But that’s what I was thinking, as well,” he continued before the noblewoman could retort, still unable to drop his scowl. “The boy’s not even close to being properly educated for a peasant shunted up into nobility, and they’re thinking of sending him here to ‘learn’ from us.”

“Well, in normal situations, it’d be a decent idea,” Brydd weakly defended. “Teach a kid how things are really run and all that. Make them appreciate the stuffier parts of sitting on a throne.”

“Lommath’s right,” Joren cut in, surprising everyone for agreeing with a Gilnean’s sentiment for probably the first time. “Boy’s been taught nothing but foul magic for barely four months so far. If we’re lucky, he’s been hitting more proper books about history and statesmanship. Doesn’t matter, he’s still going to end up wasting our time, dragging us all through the most basic lessons.”

“And I’d bet he’ll get a bit uppity and try to throw his weight around,” Filia added.

“It’ll probably be the magi’s idea, too,” Lommath chipped in with his disdain clear.

The current situation with this regency council was barely tolerable enough, now the damned magi’s meddling would threaten the fragile balance of interests over Alterac. Lommath once again quietly cursed Isiden’s idiocy. Aiden’s nephew had a clean enough record, and for all of Stromgarde’s protests the lad’s claim was hard to contest. Having Isiden take the throne would have given Gilneas an ally in Alliance decisionmaking, another kingdom who shared the same interests to prevent being totally outvoted.

But the damned fool had to go around rallying support and fall off his horse. King Genn wisely tried to keep the details hidden, lest the disgraceful accident mar his decision to support Isiden in the first place and paint him as a poor judge of character. Unfortunately, the incident put Lommath in this unenviable position, where he had to constantly keep an eye out against the representatives of other kingdoms to ensure that Alterac didn’t get quietly pilfered under his nose.

Obviously, the biggest threat in this was Joren Keenshard, who was still pushing the Stromgarde agenda of annexing parts of Alterac. Lommath had to keep his wits up to combat the attempts at sending Stromgarde prospectors and peasants to supposedly develop the southern regions of Alterac. Both councilors knew full well that if it was allowed, then it'd pave the way for a slow but eventual colonization.

At least Joren was blunt and to the point, typical of a frontline veteran who couldn’t think past direct charges and mediocre feints. For all her haughtiness, Filia Calomyr was a more cunning and insidious rival, who sought to encroach on Alterac from all directions. If she had her way, Lordaeron merchants and masons would be flooding the land to undo the scars left by the Second War, making the peasantry sing praises to the kingdom for its ‘charity’.

By throwing gold and men around, the kingdom would be rebuilt in Lordaeron’s image, and the oblivious people of Alterac would be happily petitioning for King Menethil’s rule. Yet while the councilor of Lordaeron had the most pull due to the kingdom’s overwhelming power, she rarely threw her weight around unless her kingdom’s interests were truly threatened. The infuriating woman had the nerve to be truly bored at the whole thing, keeping the hassle of interfering between Lommath and Joren to a strict minimum.

The same went for Brydd Salthewer, councilor of Kul Tiras. The sea-brained sailor was here simply because his Lord Admiral didn’t like being kept out of the fun, and wanted to remind the continental kingdoms of the archipelago’s own influence within the Alliance. Even with some sourness in relations between Gilneas and Kul Tiras, Lommath would’ve tolerated Brydd if not for the latter’s penchant to throw his vote casually about, almost for the sheer fun of it.

One moment the hook-handed former naval captain was supporting Lommathin shooting down Joren’s proposal of establishing more logging camps (staffed fully by Joren’s countrymen of course), and in the next meeting Brydd would be arguing on Joren’s side to protest Lommath’s necessary redrawing of the trade routes. After all, Alterac’s eastern roads were practically dirt paths by now, and traffic to Stromgarde had dried up. Why not emphasize commerce along the more profitable western routes that were headed to Gilneas?

And now, with the struggles within the council still peaking, the Light-forsaken spell-slingers of Dalaran decide to join in.

“They probably have the boy reading off their carefully prepared script,” Lommath muttered, noting the nods from the other regents.

“Any idea how long the boy will be staying?” Brydd asked, glancing down at the crumpled message.

“No more than three months,” Filia answered, bringing up a manicured finger to tap thoughtfully on her chin. “No matter how they want to wrangle it, the magi can only leave him here for as long as their academic breaks, so long as he’s not of age yet. That’s the agreement.”

Joren gave a rumbling harrumph. “Hmph. If they’re pulling this now, that’ll mean that even if we can keep the boy from wreaking havoc, we can look forward to annual visits at the very least.”

Lommath’s scowl grew at that thought. “We’ll have to impress on him the importance of sitting quietly while the adults work,” he declared.

Once more, Filia was the one to respond. “He’s learning to be a mage, right? Chuck him in the library. I’m sure we can stuff the shelves with the sort of stuff his kind would be interested in.”

“Or introduce him to girls?” Brydd suggested, shrugging as the other three regents focused their gazes on him. “What? He’s of that age, right? It’s a good enough distraction.”

Surprisingly, gruff Joren nodded at that. “I’ll have to scout out the locals, prepare a roster…”

Lommath suddenly saw through the man’s ploy and quickly interceded. “Aye, we’ll have a lot of reviewing.” No way was Joren going to slip in a Stromgardian wench to steer the boy’s cock towards Stromgardian interests.

Realizing his plan was discovered, the veteran gave Lommath a glare for a second, before Filia obliviously spoke. “Just perfect, more work…”

The Gilnean and Stromgardian representatives aborted their stare-off to nod their hearty agreement at their colleague’s sentiment. The current responsibilities were already burdensome enough, now they had to find ways to keep a jumped up boy king occupied and away from the matters of state.