Loire Academy.

The buses rolled down the narrow streets of the capital. 

The landscape shifted gradually.

The dense streets of the capital now replaced by rolling hills and open countryside. 

Alexander fumbled with his shirt, staring down at his lap.

Jules tapped his shoulder. 

"Look, wheat fields."

Alexander looked up—his gaze landing on vast fields of freshly planted wheat. 

Farmers walked the land on the backs of large windwalkers, laughing amongst themselves as they worked.

We're leaving the city?

"Do you know where we're headed?" 

He met Jules's gaze. 

"The sister city, Botrel—also known as the city of nobles." Jules answered.

Alexander blinked.

"Why is it called that? Do the nobility not live in the capital?"

Jules smirked.

"The nobility that's crucial to the crown, yes."

"But for those who were simply born with a title, who don't care for the shenanigans of complex politics—Botrel is their home."

Alexander nodded. "What's it like?"

Jules leaned back, sighing. 

"Mansions as far as the eye can see, lavish gardens that rival the royal palace—and streets paved in marble."

Alexander groaned as he glanced out the window, absorbing the information silently.

"But don't let that fool you, Sir Alexander. Their money isn't just wasted on feasts, Loire Academy is at the heart of their attention…"

Jules trailed off, allowing the silence to permeate. 

Alexander shook his head, he didn't need to hear anymore. 

Loire Academy was probably better funded, trained, and equipped. 

Not to mention high off a win. 

The more he thought about it, the more he questioned if Raphael was prepared to beat them. 

"Sounds intense," Alexander replied.

Jules nodded.

"I can only imagine the crowd will make it far more burdensome."

Alexander chuckled humorlessly. 

"Right, they'll be watching."

He then crossed his arms.

"Do you think anyone from our academy will come?"

Jules tilted his head.

"It'll be quite the trip for our supporters." 

His tone was thoughtful, "but I wouldn't be surprised to see a few make the journey."

A sly grin crossed his lips as he narrowed his orange eyes. 

"Like a certain royal." 

Alexander's cheeks flushed.

"Shut up!"

He jabbed a finger against Jules's cheek.

"We're just friends, okay? We haven't even kissed yet."

"Yet?"

Jules teased, grabbing Alexander's finger. 

"My-my, and here I thought you were innocent."

Alexander scoffed. 

"Whatever, just be ready for a fight." 

Though Alexander denied it, his chest warmed at the thought of her being there. 

Is it bad that I kinda want her to be there? I don't know… shit.

The bus rumbled on, the wheat fields now replaced by dense forests and patchy roads.

The air inside the bus grew stuffy, a mix of oil and sweat—blending with the anticipation.

After a few hours, the landscape shifted again.

The forests thinned—bringing the first glimpse of Botrel in view. 

True to Jules's description, it was a city of grandeur. 

Sprawling mansions dominated the horizon.

The streets shone with polish and pride, flanked by vast gardens of exotic flowers and trimmed hedges. 

As the buses rolled into the city—the air carried the scent of luxury.

Freshly baked goods and wines that've been aged for centuries. 

The academy itself loomed in the distance.

A sprawling complex with high spires and arched marble columns. 

But what drew Alexander's attention wasn't the wealth, but the size. 

Loire Academy's grand arena. 

It was almost twice the size of François Academy's—with walls constructed of gleaming white stone. 

Banners of light blue and gold hung from the battlements, bearing the sword and shield emblem. 

Alexander's stomach knotted as the buses rolled to a halt in front of a spacious courtyard.

There, a group gathered with confident grins and relaxed stances. 

The most notable among them, a tall woman with yellow eyes and long black hair. 

She was dressed in light blue robes with a golden trim—her hands hidden behind white gloves.

As the François team began to disembark, whispers and smirks rippled through the gathered crowd. 

Raphael was first off the lead bus, his posture rigid. 

Beneath his right arm was his clipboard and in his left hand was his equipment bag. 

"Oh well hello, Raphael." 

The woman from earlier spoke in a mocking tone, her thin lips forming a grin. 

"Too good for a train I see?" 

She gestured a hand towards the buses.

Raphael gave her one look, his eyes narrowed and dark.

"Save the bullshit for the field, you'll need it." 

He pressed forward—leading his team with a determined fire in his eyes. 

The woman laughed as she watched the françois team march towards the locker room.

Alexander wasn't sure where to look as he marched behind Raphael. 

The gardens? 

The arena?

Or her?

Alexander glanced at the yellow-eyed woman—she soon met his gaze. 

"Scared?" She asked, gesturing for him with a finger.

"Don't be, we only bite when provoked."

Alexander froze, like a mouse caught by the predatory gaze of a feline. 

Her voice was smooth—laced with a condescension that made his skin crawl. 

The rest of the Loire team chuckled.

Alexander swallowed hard—glancing back at the rest of his teammates. 

They were already halfway towards the locker room, seemingly leaving him behind.

He glanced back at the woman. 

In this moment—he didn't know what came over him. 

Maybe it was the pressure of the upcoming match. 

Maybe he was tired of being the underdog.

Or maybe it was just the old Alexander taking over. 

But for some reason, he smirked. 

"After I kick your ass, I'll take you to dinner—my treat."

He winked, jogging after his teammates.

The woman blinked in stunned silence, then laughed. 

"Oh, this is getting good."

She whispered, raising a hand to her chin.

Alexander didn't look back as he joined his team. 

He could feel the woman's gaze boring into his back, sending his heart racing. 

He couldn't believe his sheer audacity, or why it thrilled him. 

What the hell was that—and why did it feel so good?

Jules raised an eyebrow as Alexander fell into step beside him.

"Old habits die hard, eh?" 

Alexander shook his head.

"I don't know, I guess I just hate self-assured pricks, like you."

Jules feigned a frown.

"Low blow, Sir Alexander."

Alexander smirked, "I'm only teasing… mostly."

Jules's eyes widened—a smirk crossing his lips.

"Oh, whatever has gotten into you, I love it."