The iron gates of the Academy of Velmira loomed before me, towering monuments of wrought iron that seemed to shimmer faintly in the evening sun. As I stepped through them, a strange stillness settled over me, the kind that comes before a storm. Students bustled in groups across the courtyards, their laughter and chatter weaving into the sharp autumn air. It looked normal enough at first glance, but something about the atmosphere felt off—like a clock just slightly out of sync.
A junior steward, barely older than me in appearance, was waiting to escort me. His attempts at conversation were a stuttering mess as he led me through the maze-like grounds, pointing out towering dormitories, expansive gardens, and lecture halls carved with intricate designs. His nervousness amused me at first, but it didn't take long before it grated. Was I that intimidating, or was it just the weight of my family name?
We stopped at the doors of the administrative wing, their ornate carvings gleaming faintly. The steward mumbled something about my appointment with the headmistress and left as quickly as he could. I straightened my posture, pushing the doors open with more force than necessary.
The office was precisely what I'd expected—an oppressive room full of thick tomes, looming shelves, and a desk so polished it reflected the dim light like a mirror. Behind it sat a woman with eyes as sharp as the quill in her hand.
"Aveline D'Argent," she said without looking up from her parchment. Her voice was crisp, like the snap of a taut bowstring.
"Headmistress Elysande," I replied, keeping my tone polite but detached.
Her eyes flicked up to meet mine, and for a moment, we appraised each other in silence. Then she gestured for me to sit, her expression unreadable.
"Your admission is… unconventional," she began, folding her hands. "Velmira does not typically accept students midterm, let alone under these circumstances. Your father's influence speaks for itself."
Of course it does. My father's hand in my placement here was as heavy-handed as everything else he did. "I assure you, Headmistress, I'm more than capable of catching up."
"That remains to be seen," she said, her voice cool. "Velmira is not for the faint of heart, Miss D'Argent. We cultivate excellence, and those who cannot meet our standards are swiftly shown the door."
"I don't intend to fail," I said, my words deliberate.
For a moment, her lips twitched as though she wanted to smile but decided against it. Instead, she slid a piece of parchment across the desk. "Your schedule and dormitory assignment. Orientation begins tomorrow morning. Don't be late."
I rose, inclining my head slightly. She didn't dismiss me with words, but the silence made it clear our audience was over.
By the time I left the administrative wing, the sun had dipped lower, painting the academy in shades of gold and shadow. Students passed by, some casting curious glances my way, others barely noticing me at all. I made my way to the dormitories, carefully observing everything—the layout, the faces, the places I could use for an advantage if necessary.
My dormitory was simple yet elegant. A wide window overlooked the central courtyard, and the room was outfitted with practical furniture: a desk, a bed, a wardrobe. As I unpacked my belongings, a knock sounded at the door.
I moved swiftly, my hand already brushing against the dagger concealed beneath my cloak before I even registered the sound.
The door opened a crack, and a voice drifted in. "Relax, I'm not here to rob you."
I opened the door fully to find a young woman with messy auburn hair and an easy grin. She held out a hand. "Roommates, apparently. I'm Lyric."
I hesitated for the briefest moment before shaking her hand. "Aveline."
"Nice to meet you, Aveline," she said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. She flopped onto the other bed, her grin never faltering. "This place is wild, huh? I've been here two weeks, and I still feel like I'm in a storybook."
"Storybook," I echoed dryly. "That's one way to put it."
Lyric laughed, completely unfazed by my tone. "So, what's your story? You're not exactly giving off 'bright-eyed student' vibes."
"I could say the same about you," I replied, evading the question.
She stretched out, her expression briefly clouding before the grin returned. "Fair enough. Let's just say I didn't exactly grow up dreaming about coming here."
The distant toll of a bell cut through the air, signaling dinner. Lyric jumped to her feet. "Come on. You don't want to miss the dining hall on your first night."
The dining hall was a grand affair, its high ceilings and glittering chandeliers giving it an almost royal air. Long tables stretched across the room, already filled with students. As we entered, a few heads turned. I could feel their eyes on me, whispers trailing in our wake.
"Don't let it bother you," Lyric murmured. "New faces are always a big deal here. Plus, word spreads fast about special admissions."
I sat beside her at one of the less crowded tables, my attention wandering as I assessed the room. Faces blurred together, but a few stood out. A tall boy with dark hair and an arrogant smirk caught my eye. He leaned toward another student, saying something that made them laugh.
"Corwin," Lyric said under her breath. "He thinks he owns the place because his family practically funds the academy. Stay out of his way."
Noted.
The hum of conversation swirled around us, but I kept my focus sharp, cataloging names, faces, and dynamics. This wasn't just a school—it was a battlefield, and I'd be damned if I walked into it blind.