Ryen made his way to the study, where Alastair and Jasper were deep in conversation. He approached them, an apologetic look on his face. "I'm sorry for yesterday."
Alastair waved it off with a smile. "There's no need for that. But the attack—it was unbelievably powerful. You should try to control it."
"Really?" Ryen asked, his voice filled with uncertainty.
Jasper, who had been quietly listening, nodded. "I nearly died from just your finger flick," she said with a half-smile, nudging him slightly.
Ryen's expression turned serious, guilt once again clouding his face. Alastair put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Look, I know you'll become incredibly strong. But I'll always be stronger than you, got it?"
Jasper chuckled. "You know, you were pretty close to losing yesterday."
"Yesterday doesn't count," Alastair replied with mock indignation, prompting laughter from all three of them.
For the first time since the incident, a small smile crossed Ryen's face, and the tension eased as they laughed and bantered, a sense of relief settling among them.
The days leading up to the entrance ceremony passed quickly, and soon the awaited day arrived. Everyone prepared to depart for the academy, excitement buzzing through the group. As they gathered, Ryen asked, "What exactly happens during the entrance ceremony?"
Regin smiled. "It's mostly formalities—the academy head gives a speech, and then there's a sparring display by the existing students. After that, a flag-retrieving game between the new students and the incoming second years. It's a good mix of tradition and a chance to showcase skills."
With that, they set off and soon arrived at the academy grounds, where a large crowd was gathered in the main hall. The atmosphere was electric, and in the midst of the assembly stood an old man with a wooden staff, his bald head gleaming slightly in the morning light. Beside him stood Orion, dressed in his usual formal attire, scanning the crowd.
The old man, his eyes nearly closed, spoke in a deep, gravelly voice, surprising the onlookers. "How are you, brat? Learned anything new?" His voice carried an unexpected warmth despite its gruffness.
It wasn't immediately clear who the old man was addressing, but then Regin bowed respectfully. "Good morning, Master. I am well. How are you?"
The old man gave a short nod, a hint of a smile softening his features. "Hmm. Still the same as ever, I see. Never could get you to loosen up." His gaze shifted to Alastair, studying him with a discerning look. "You must be Tiberius's son."
Alastair, slightly taken aback, nodded. "Yes, I am," he replied, about to continue when the old man cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Yes, yes, that's enough. Time for the speech." Without waiting, he turned and made his way toward the podium.
As they prepared for the ceremony to begin, Regin leaned toward Orion and whispered, "Why didn't you tell me Master was coming?"
Orion smirked, whispering back, "And what would you have done if I had?"
Regin was momentarily stumped. "I…might have prepared myself, mentally," he muttered, though his expression betrayed an amused exasperation.
Orion chuckled. "I didn't know either. At dawn, I was stretching by the pond when he appeared out of nowhere—I almost fell in!"
Regin tried to suppress his laughter as he imagined the scene. Elara, watching them curiously, leaned over to Alastair and whispered, "Do you know who that old man is?"
Alastair shook his head, just as Orion turned to the group. "That," he said, gesturing to the old man, "is Master Kaelor. He was the principal here during my student days."
Alastair's eyes widened in shock. "Wait—you're Master Kaelor?" He immediately bowed, his expression filled with respect. "I apologize for not recognizing you sooner!"
Ryen, not quite understanding the gravity of the moment, started to say something, but Alastair, realizing Ryen and Elara were still standing upright, quickly reached out and forced them both into a bow with his hands on their shoulders.
From the front, the old man's voice rumbled with gentle amusement. "Enough of that, lift your heads. I'm not here to collect apologies." He gave a nod, signaling Alastair to release them.
As they straightened up, Alastair's eyes fell on the staff in the old man's hand. "Is that… the Astrathorn Staff?" he asked, awe creeping into his voice.
Master Kaelor's expression softened with a hint of pride. "Ah, quick to recognize it, aren't you? Even with Vorthun, your senses are sharp. Though," he added with a knowing grin, "it means you're not training as hard as you could."
Caught off guard, Alastair stammered before responding with an awkward smile.
At that moment, Orion glanced toward the podium and noticed movement. "Ah, there—the principal has arrived."