The throne room of Valeria was a place of grandeur and intimidation. Its high vaulted ceilings were adorned with banners bearing the royal crest—a golden lion rampant against a field of crimson. Sunlight streamed through stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the polished marble floor. At the far end of the room, seated on a throne of black iron and gold, was **King Alaric**.
Cedric stood at the edge of the room, his hands clasped behind his back, trying to ignore the weight of his siblings' stares. Edmund, Selene, and Roland were lined up beside him, their postures stiff and formal. The air was thick with tension, the kind that came before a storm.
King Alaric rose from his throne, his presence commanding silence. He was a tall man, broad-shouldered and imposing, with a face carved from stone. His silver hair and beard gave him an air of wisdom, but his eyes—cold and calculating—betrayed the ruthlessness that had kept him on the throne for decades.
"My children," the king began, his voice echoing through the hall. "The time has come for you to prove your worth. In one month's time, you will enroll in the Royal Academy of Valeria. There, you will learn the skills necessary to rule—or to serve, as the case may be."
Cedric's heart skipped a beat. The Royal Academy was the most prestigious institution in the kingdom, a place where the elite trained to become leaders, generals, and diplomats. It was also a battlefield, where alliances were forged and rivalries were born.
Edmund stepped forward, his expression smug. "Father, I am ready to lead. The academy will be but a stepping stone to my rightful place as heir."
King Alaric's gaze flicked to Edmund, his expression unreadable. "Confidence is commendable, Edmund. But arrogance is a weakness. Remember that."
Edmund's smile faltered, but he quickly recovered, bowing his head. "Of course, Father."
Selene stepped forward next, her movements graceful and deliberate. "I look forward to honing my skills in diplomacy and strategy. The academy will be an opportunity to strengthen our alliances and secure our future."
The king nodded approvingly. "A wise approach, Selene. Diplomacy is the lifeblood of any kingdom."
Roland stepped forward last, his chest puffed out with pride. "I'll show them what it means to be a warrior. The academy won't know what hit them."
King Alaric's expression darkened. "Strength is important, Roland, but it must be tempered with discipline. Do not forget that."
Roland scowled but said nothing, stepping back into line.
Then the king's gaze fell on Cedric. For a moment, there was silence, the weight of the king's scrutiny pressing down on him like a physical force.
"And you, Cedric," the king said, his tone icy. "What do you hope to gain from the academy?"
Cedric met his father's gaze, his voice steady despite the knot of anxiety in his chest. "I hope to learn, Your Majesty. To understand the challenges our kingdom faces and to find ways to overcome them."
The king's eyes narrowed, as if searching for some hidden meaning in Cedric's words. "A modest goal. But ambition is not a sin, boy. Do not be afraid to reach for more."
Cedric bowed his head, his mind racing. Was that a challenge? A warning? He couldn't tell.
The king turned back to the group. "The academy will test you in ways you cannot yet imagine. Only the strongest, the smartest, and the most cunning will succeed. Remember, the future of Valeria depends on you. Do not disappoint me."
With that, the king dismissed them, his gaze lingering on Cedric for a moment longer before he turned away.
---
As they left the throne room, Cedric's siblings wasted no time in making their feelings known.
"Well, well," Roland sneered, falling into step beside Cedric. "Looks like the half-blood gets to play with the big kids. Try not to embarrass yourself, little brother."
Cedric ignored him, his mind still replaying the king's words.
Selene stepped in front of him, her smile sweet but her eyes sharp as daggers. "Don't get too comfortable, Cedric. The academy isn't a place for… commoners."
Edmund said nothing, but his cold stare spoke volumes.
Cedric clenched his fists, his frustration boiling over. "I'm not afraid of you," he said, his voice low but firm.
Roland laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "You should be."
With that, his siblings walked away, leaving Cedric alone in the corridor.
---
That evening, Cedric returned to the archives, seeking solace in the quiet solitude of the books. He found Master Wyntor at his usual desk, poring over a dusty tome.
"Your Highness," Wyntor said, looking up as Cedric approached. "What brings you here at this hour?"
"The academy," Cedric said, sinking into a chair. "I need to be ready."
Wyntor studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. What do you wish to know?"
"Everything," Cedric said. "The academy's history, its curriculum, its politics. I can't afford to go in blind."
Wyntor smiled faintly. "A wise approach. Very well, let us begin."
For hours, Wyntor guided Cedric through the intricacies of the academy. He explained the four houses—Steel, Silk, Stone, and Shadow—and the unique challenges each presented. He recounted tales of past students who had risen to greatness—and those who had fallen into obscurity.
As the night wore on, Cedric's confidence grew. He might not have his siblings' strength or charm, but he had something they didn't: a mind sharpened by two lifetimes of experience.
"Remember, Your Highness," Wyntor said as they concluded their session. "The academy is not just a place of learning. It is a battlefield. Trust no one, and always be one step ahead."
Cedric nodded, his resolve hardening. "I won't let you down."
Wyntor smiled, his eyes filled with a mixture of pride and concern. "I know you won't. But be careful, Cedric. The path you've chosen is fraught with danger."
As Cedric left the archives, the weight of Wyntor's words settled over him. The academy would be his proving ground, a place where he could either rise to greatness or fall into obscurity.
But Cedric was ready. He had faced death once before, and he wasn't afraid to face it again.