"You signed me up for what?!"
Tolan calmly sipped his tea, then adjusted his glasses with infuriating poise. "The Royal Academy. You've been accepted."
"I never applied!"
"I did."
I opened my mouth. Closed it again. Considered flipping the table. Mira had done it once, to dramatic effect, but she'd also sprained her wrist.
Instead, I stared at the parchment in my hands like it might dissolve if I glared hard enough.
"This—this is the biggest, most pretentious, most rigid institution in the kingdom! It's where all the nobles send their spoiled brats to posture and backstab each other over whose father owns more goats!"
Tolan gave me a droll smile. "And you, Elara, are going to disrupt their entire ecosystem."
"Is that supposed to be reassuring?!"
It wasn't a request.
Tolan and my parents had made the decision together. It was time, they said. I was sixteen. My inventions were now in homes from the capital to the border cities. I had transformed the technological landscape and amassed a literal cult following of household appliance enthusiasts. There were fan clubs for my toaster.
But according to them, none of this mattered without "socialization" and "proper education."
"You need to understand your peers," Mother said sternly as she packed an entire wardrobe's worth of skirts, dresses, blouses, and undergarments that were all either lacy, pastel, or both. Her efficiency was terrifying. Every fold was precise, every ribbon symmetrical, every shoe matched with military precision. Mira wasn't here—she was already in the capital. So all the packing and motherly "discipline" came directly from Mom. And she did not mess around.
"You'll make a name for yourself among the young elite," Father said with pride, though wisely keeping a safe distance from Mother's packing tornado.
"Just—try not to blow anything up in the first week," Tolan added.
"So... wait until week two, got it," I muttered.
Packing was a war.
I tried to sneak in tools. They were confiscated.
I tried to hide components in my socks. Mother found them and gave me a look that could curdle steel.
"You're not building a lab at the Academy," Tolan said, wagging a finger. "They have their own facilities. With rules."
"Rules are just... guidelines with extra steps!"
"Rules," Mother interjected, "are not optional. You are representing this family, young lady."
The final compromise was bleak.
I was allowed to bring only my Multi-Tool Staff and my Laser Etching Pen, the latter of which had a governor rune installed to limit it to non-explosive power levels.
Mother packed them in their own special compartments, surrounded by frilly silk and embroidered cloth, as if trying to cleanse their utilitarian shame.
The next morning, it was time to leave.
I stood at the village gate, my travel bag packed (with absolutely no contraband tools—supposedly), dressed in traveling clothes that still managed to feature bows, pleats, and a coordinated bonnet. I squinted at the morning sun and the dusty trail that led away from home.
Mira and Leo weren't there.
Because they were already in the capital.
Leo, now an honorary knight-in-training.
Mira, working under a merchant magnate with political connections.
We'd parted ways two years ago, and I still hadn't gotten used to the quiet.
They'd said something odd back then:
"We'll see you in two years."
At the time, I hadn't understood. Now, the memory clung like a burr.
Mother hugged me tightly. "Be polite. Smile more. And don't climb buildings to install your inventions on rooftops again."
Father handed me a small pouch of coins. "Just in case."
Tolan patted my shoulder. "You'll be fine. Probably."
I sighed.
The carriage was... something.
A monstrosity of opulence. White lacquered wood, gold trim, glass windows with frost-resistant runes. The seats were padded with what felt like magically-treated velvet—but the suspension left much to be desired.
Every bump in the road jolted me in ways I didn't think were physically possible. It was as if someone had designed a luxury deathtrap.
"This looks like it costs more than my entire house," I muttered as I clung to a poorly positioned armrest while the wheels slammed into another pothole.
"Several houses," Tolan said, gripping his seat with a remarkably steady expression.
"Then why does it ride like a barrel down a gravel hill?!"
He shrugged. "The enchantments are mostly cosmetic. Nobles care about how things look more than how they function."
I stared at him.
Then at the velvet curtains.
Then at the absolutely useless engraved brass cupholders.
With a final creak, the coach lurched forward, heading out of the village.
I looked out the window, watching my home shrink behind us.
Goodbye, quiet fields.
Goodbye, secret lab.
Goodbye, personal space.
Hello, capital.
Hello, chaos.
I had no idea what was waiting for me.
But something told me... it wouldn't be boring.