You disembark, and Lady Renaldt leads you in a line to the vast entrance archway where a tall, jovial-looking gentleman in a dark suit is standing. He wears a cape trimmed with an ermine collar that gives the impression of a royal robe, and greets her cheerfully with clasped hands.
"Lady Renaldt," he says, his voice carrying over the group without effort. "How wonderful of you to attend our little celebration tonight."
"Lord Haberlin, your invitation was too kind," Lady Renaldt says.
Beside Lord Haberlin stands a student your age in uniform, with a silver badge pinned to one lapel. Lady Renaldt greets the student with a kiss to the cheek. He shares Lady Renaldt's dark complexion and eyes, and regal bearing.
"Lovely to see you, Mother," he says.
He clasps hands with each of the Gallatin students as you file past. When it is your turn, he gives you a warm, perfectly correct smile and holds out a hand.
"The Honorable Auguste Renaldt," he says. "I understand you are Pedro .. How pleasant."
A glint sparks in Auguste's dark eyes, and he inclines his head gracefully. "I do enjoy meeting the Gallatin students," he says. "We want to make sure everyone feels welcome."
Unsaid: Even you. He turns to Freddie, who is the next student in line.
You and the rest of the guests drop off your coats in a snug cloakroom, and follow Lord Haberlin onward.
To the Ballroom
You are led to a vastly baroque hall where a string quartet is gently playing from a gallery above. The ceiling is covered with frescoes of mythological scenes; the gilded buttresses sparkle in the warm, bright light. The Archambault students give light applause as you enter, a sea of students your age and younger in dove-gray uniforms, ties striped with pale blue.
A stained-glass window dominates the hall, lit with electric lights shining from outside. It depicts a selection of youths in clothing from hundreds of years ago, holding mythological objects: the diamond globe of Voigt, the feather of the firebird, and more. Beneath it stands a short spiral staircase bearing a lectern which has the look of a vicar's pulpit. Lord Haberlin signals to the musicians, who immediately fall silent, and rises.
"Archambault and Gallatin students alike are renowned for their tenacity and determination," he says. "The Crème de la Crème competition represents our colleges coming together to showcase their skills and learning. And it gives me great joy to announce this year's prize. Chancellor Belmonte of Gessner University has promised to donate a valuable collection of Rowan Charles's folios to the winner's library."
A murmur of interest travels around the hall. As one of the leading world's universities, Gessner has a huge amount of prestige; if you are instrumental in a Gallatin victory, you could gain their attention, perhaps even a scholarship to make up for your parents' financial losses.
Lord Haberlin nods tolerantly, looking like a benevolent emperor, and flings out a hand.
"Just one more announcement before the festivities," he says, and beckons to one student who steps up to the lectern with a bouncy stride. His dark curls glint in the light.
Gonzalez grabs your arm so tightly that it hurts. "There! That's the prince!" she hisses.
"We are honored to welcome the heir to the Zaledoan throne to our final-year cohort this year," Lord Haberlin says. "Prince Rosario, welcome!"
Around you, the Gallatin students look thunderstruck. Some of the Archambault students have put on a decent show of elegant disinterest, but many are craning to look at the prince in their midst. Rosario's cheeks dimple as he beams down at the crowd.
"I do hope you have a good evening," he says, with a faint accent. "I know I'm looking forward to meeting you."
He trots down the steps; Lord Haberlin nods to the musicians, and they strike up a jaunty, complicated tune.
A Pause before Dancing