The soft light of dawn filtered through the pavilion windows, bathing the room in a pale glow as Alaric stirred from his reverie. The quiet of the morning was fleeting, a fragile moment of peace before the day's demands pressed in. Outside, the guards, already prepared for the journey ahead, standing in formation, their armor gleaming in the early light.
Alaric also got dressed in his travel robes which were now freshly cleaned and rid of the blood and grime from the battle they'd been embroiled in just the previous day.
Davian, his guardian and constant shadow, stood silently beside him, ever-vigilant. Behind them, the remaining members of their party gathered in subdued silence, preparing for departure. Without exchanging words, the two of them moved toward the pavilion's exit, where the staff had already been notified of their intent to leave.
The corridors of the pavilion were quiet as their small procession made its way to the registry desk to settle the formalities. The clerk, a young man who looked both alert and anxious, glanced up as they approached. His eyes were immediately drawn to Davian, who stepped forward and withdrew a silver ring from his belt and in the next instance, a bunch of small, egg sized stones—the world's currency—suddenly materialized on the desk like magic, piling up to a small heap.
"This will cover the expenses for accommodations and treatments," Davian said, his voice as steady as stone.
The clerk nodded quickly with a comforting smile on his face. He scribbled down the necessary details on a ledger, casting a quick, respectful glance at Alaric. "Everything is in order, my lord. Safe travels."
Davian took the receipt, then turned and followed Alaric out of the pavilion.
The city, now fully awake, bustled with activity. Merchants opened their stalls, arranging their wares, while a mingling of fragrances, freshly baked bread, herbs, and incense, wafted through the air. The distant murmur of voices, horses' hooves clattering against the stone roads, and the general hum of city life filled the space around them.
Alaric walked in silence, his eyes scanning the surroundings with detached interest.
Funny how the world kept turning. Yesterday they were knee-deep in blood, and now someone was haggling over turnips before them.
As they walked, Davian spoke quietly beside him. "Everything is prepared at the academy," he said, in a measured tone and his words meant for Alaric's ears alone. "Your quarters are ready. Once you're settled, we will leave you in the academy's care, my lord."
Alaric gave a small nod but did not respond.
Soon, they reached the outer edge of the bustling city, where the towering spires of Eldrynn Academy loomed in the distance. The academy stood as a formidable structured against the clear sky, its grand stone walls and tall gates both welcoming and foreboding in equal measure.
As they approached the gates, the academy guards, familiar with the ebb and flow of students and visitors, stood at ease at their posts. Davian stepped forward, presenting the official writ of admission. One of the guards inspected it, gave a nod, and signaled for the gates to be opened. With a low creak, the heavy iron gates parted, revealing the academy grounds beyond.
The wide path leading into the academy was flanked by immaculately kept gardens, with statues of long-forgotten scholars and heroes standing sentinel along the way. A small crowd of students and newcomers were gathered nearby, some of them visibly nervous, others brimming with excitement, each preparing for the entrance exams that would determine their future here.
As Alaric and his escort moved through the academy grounds, a few curious glances were cast their way, but no one lingered too long on them.
Davian and the rest of the party came to a stop at around the entrance of the admissions office which was a relatively large building standing out more than the others surrounding it… atleast around the entrance area.
"I'll be back soon then."
Without hesitation, Alaric made his way to the admissions office to formally submit his admission writ. The building was spacious, its tall, arched ceilings and polished floors giving it an air of solemn importance. Despite its grandeur, the place bustled with life. Students and staff hurried back and forth, a palpable sense of urgency in the air.
Alaric surveyed the surroundings briefly before approaching one of the desks. A short wait ensued before his turn arrived. Seated at the desk was a young woman with curly blond hair and a slight frame. A large pair of glasses rested on her nose, her eyes focused on the scrolls before her. She wore the formal black robes of a sorcerer, her appearance both professional and meticulous.
Without glancing up, she asked, "Name and purpose?"
Alaric reached into his coat, withdrawing his admission writ and other necessary documents. "Luther Kingsley," he said. "I'm part of this year's admissions."
The woman's eyes flicked upward at the name, a momentary look of surprise crossing her face. She straightened in her chair, and m her hands moved swiftly to inspect the documents.
"Well," she said, her voice slightly more formal. "Welcome to Eldrynn Academy, Mr. Luther Kingsley. We are delighted to have you as part of this year's intake."
After a brief pause, she added, "You needn't have queued with the others. This line is for those without a writ of admission though."
Alaric merely offered a faint smile. "I see," he said, though there was no apology in his tone.
The woman cleared her throat, then rose from her seat, gesturing to another clerk to take the documents. "This way, please," she said, guiding him toward a quieter section of the building.
Alaric followed her without hesitation, leaving behind the throngs of students and the weight of their curious stares.
Half the way, he was already feeling a sense of newfound satisfaction wash over him for a bit.
'Man, being a noble did have it's perks, I could get used to this.'
The young woman led him down a long corridor, far removed from the bustling admissions hall. They approached a room with an intricately carved door, and she motioned for him to enter.
Inside, the office was a study in opulence. Fine wooden furniture and works of art adorned the room. Sunlight filtered through stained-glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the polished floors. The air was rich with the scent of parchment and ink, and the quiet murmurs of power seemed to resonate in the very walls.
Behind a large mahogany desk sat an older man, his graying hair neatly combed and his sharp eyes betraying nothing of his thoughts. His robes were the same as those worn by the academy staff, though more elaborate in design, embroidered with silver and gold patterns that spoke of his station.
'You'd think I came here looking to get in a meeting with royalty… but I suppose it's a similar thing since the ruling houses endorse all this.'
The woman gave a respectful bow. "Sir, another legacy student, Luther Kingsley."
The old man looked at her briefly before turning his predatory gaze to Alaric. His voice was hoarse and impatient. "Another noble?"
"Yes," the woman replied curtly.
The old man hummed thoughtfully, then gestured for the woman to place the documents on his desk. "I understand."
Once the documents were laid before him, the old man waved the woman away, leaving him and Alaric alone in the grand office. Silence settled between them for a moment before the man spoke.
"Luther Kingsley," he began, his voice slow and deliberate. "I am sorry to hear about the attack that befell your party upon your arrival. Please accept our condolences."
A/N: Yo, we hit chapter 10!
Appreciate you for sticking around this far, seriously.
The story's just starting to heat up, so if you've been enjoying the ride, buckle up.
And hey, if you've got a second, drop a power stone or a review, it helps a ton and lets me know you're out there.
Let's keep it moving. Crazy stuff's coming soon ;-)