Academy (1)

The towering walls of the capital loomed in the distance, their imposing presence a testament to the empire's power. As Sulien's carriage passed through the massive iron gates, the lively sounds of the city greeted them. Merchants calling out their wares, horse-drawn carts rolling across cobbled streets, and the chatter of countless people moving about their daily lives.

The Academy was not far now. From the window, Sulien caught glimpses of its grand spires, standing proudly against the sky.

As the carriage slowed to a stop in a quieter district near an official checkpoint, the Evern knights dismounted from their horse. One of them, Callen, a man with a bloodied bandage wrapped around his arm and abdomen, approached Sulien's carriage. Lady Larissa Evern followed closely behind, her eyes filled with quiet gratitude.

The knight, despite his injuries, stood straight and placed a hand over his chest in a formal salute. "Lord Sulien, on behalf of House Evern, I extend my deepest gratitude. Without your intervention, I fear we would not have made it here safely."

Sulien's fingers twitched involuntarily, the sudden, sharp compulsion surging through him like a current. The knight's tunic. The folds in the fabric, the way the seams didn't quite align. It was wrong. The urge to straighten it, to smooth away every imperfection, was immediate, consuming.

But then, the disgust.

Just thought of the sensation of his gloved fingers brushing against it already sending a shudder through him.

His gloves, once neat and precise, now felt like they were smeared with grime. His skin crawled, the sensation of rough fabric against his hands digging into his consciousness like an itch that couldn't be scratched. It wasn't just the fabric. It was everything. Every loose thread, every imperfection in his surroundings clawed at him, whispering that he couldn't rest until everything was right. But no matter how much he focused, he couldn't make it right. And it made him feel... sick.

He clenched his fist, fighting the urge to make everything perfect. His chest tightened, his breath shallow as the discomfort twisted inside him. His thoughts swirled into a storm, each wave more frantic than the last, the tightness in his chest building as the need for order overwhelmed him.

It took everything in him to resist, to ground himself and turn his gaze away. Focus on the moment, he told himself. Focus on the words. But his fingers, still itching to adjust something. Anything, remained frozen, a silent reminder of the battle he fought every day, one no one else could see.

Larissa stepped forward, her expression more composed than it had been since the attack. "Sir Sulien, you have my gratitude as well," she said, her voice refined yet sincere. "Our house will not forget this debt."

Sulien, still adjusting his gloves as if trying to rid himself of lingering discomfort, merely inclined his head. "I only did what was necessary," he replied smoothly.

The knight nodded, understanding his unwillingness to linger on the matter. "Even so, should you ever require assistance from House Evern, do not hesitate to call upon us."

Larissa hesitated for a moment before adding, "I will be attending the Academy as a student. Should our paths cross again, I hope we can speak under better circumstances."

Sulien studied her for a brief moment before giving a curt nod. "We'll see."

With their farewells exchanged, the Evern entourage mounted their horses and rode toward their destination. Sulien watched them disappear into the bustling streets before turning to his own destination.

"The Academy is close by. Let's not waste any more time," he ordered.

With that, the carriage rolled forward once more, heading toward the place where everything was destined to begin.

---

As the carriage rolled to a stop, the clatter of hooves against stone faded into silence. Sulien took a deep breath, composing himself before opening the carriage door. Stepping out, he was greeted by the grand sight of the Imperial Academy's entrance. A towering wrought-iron gate adorned with intricate arcane symbols, flanked by statues of past scholars and warriors who had once walked these halls. Beyond the gate, the Academy itself loomed in the distance, an architectural masterpiece of ivory towers and sprawling courtyards, with banners bearing the empire's insignia fluttering in the wind.

Flinn followed closely behind as Sulien adjusted his gloves, his sharp gaze sweeping across the Academy grounds. The air was thick with mana, a testament to the sheer number of magic practitioners gathered within these walls. Even from here, he could hear the distant hum of students sparring in training grounds and the murmur of discussions carried through the open-air corridors.

A young woman approached them with a confident stride, her half-framed glasses glinting under the afternoon sun. She was dressed in the Academy's standard professor's uniform. A deep blue coat adorned with silver embroidery, signifying her rank among the faculty. Her dark brown hair was neatly tied into a bun, though a few loose strands framed her face, giving her an air of composed authority.

"Mr. Wald," she greeted, her voice smooth yet professional.

Sulien inclined his head in acknowledgment.

"I am Professor Mara, a specialist in spirit arts," she introduced herself, adjusting her glasses with a practiced motion. "The Headmaster is expecting you. There's no need to concern yourself with your belongings. Our staff will handle them."

Without hesitation, Sulien handed over his luggage to a waiting attendant, watching as they efficiently carried it toward the staff quarters. He then turned his attention back to Professor Mara, who had already begun leading the way toward the main building.

As they walked through the Academy's grand entrance, Sulien took in the sight of its majestic interior. The hallways were vast, lined with towering bookshelves filled with ancient tomes, while glowing crystal chandeliers cast a soft, warm light upon the polished marble floors. Elaborate murals depicting legendary battles and great scholars adorned the walls, each painting imbued with subtle enchantments that made the figures seem to shift ever so slightly when one wasn't looking directly at them.

Students clad in uniforms passed by, maybe because tomorrow is the start of classes. Some engaged in quiet discussions, others hurriedly making their way to training grounds. Several of them spared glances at Sulien and Flinn, curiosity evident in their expressions. It was not every day a new instructor arrived, especially one as young as him.

Flinn, walking a step behind Sulien, leaned in slightly and muttered, "This place feels… suffocating."

Sulien smirked slightly.

"Of course, it would feel suffocating," Sulien murmured, his voice carrying a knowing edge. His gaze swept across the vast corridors, taking in the students and faculty members who walked past. Some cast fleeting glances at him, their expressions ranging from curiosity to quiet scrutiny.

"This academy isn't just a place of learning," he continued, his tone lower but firm. "It's a battlefield of influence. Every faction has a stake in it, not just those of the empire. Royals and nobles from every major kingdom send their heirs here, alongside representatives from the wealthiest merchant guilds and the strongest warrior clans. Even the long-lived races of elves, dwarves, beastkin, have their own prodigies enrolled."

The weight of his words lingered as Flinn scanned their surroundings. It was evident now. This wasn't just an institution for education. It was a convergence point of power. Deals were struck in the candlelit corners of libraries, alliances forged in whispered conversations beneath grand chandeliers. Every interaction, even among students, was layered with unspoken meaning.

"This academy prides itself on neutrality," Sulien continued, eyes narrowing as they passed a group of students dressed in regal finery. Their uniforms were adorned with custom embellishments of gold-lined cuffs, embroidered insignias representing their houses. "Race, status, and background don't matter here. Only talent does. That's the official stance, at least."

Flinn scoffed quietly, shaking his head. "Doesn't mean discrimination doesn't exist."

"Exactly," Sulien agreed. "For some, talent alone is a threat. And threats… don't last long without protection."

Professor Mara, walking ahead, didn't comment, but Sulien caught the briefest twitch of her fingers, perhaps a silent acknowledgment of his words.

The Academy wasn't just a place to cultivate strength. It was a stage where the next generation of rulers, strategists, and warriors prepared for the inevitable power struggles beyond these walls. And he had just stepped right into the heart of it.

His eyes flickered toward the grand staircase ahead. The Headmaster's office was just beyond it.

Professor Mara glanced back at them briefly before continuing forward. "The Headmaster is eager to meet you," she said, her tone neutral, though there was a flicker of something unreadable in her gaze.

Sulien didn't respond. He merely followed, his mind already calculating his next steps.

***