The carriage rolled along the forest path, the rhythmic creak of its wooden wheels mingling with the rustle of leaves. Sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, casting fleeting patterns of light and shadow over the vehicle. It was an unassuming sight—a modest carriage with no guards or banners of grandeur, suggesting its occupant was of little consequence.
This assumption would not be far from the truth. The emblem on the carriage's door bore the mark of the Bloomlyn Viscount, a noble family of little renown. They ruled over a remote region of the Kingdom of Gruem, far removed from the political heart of the realm. Among nobility, their name carried scant weight.
Inside the carriage sat a boy, the youngest son of the Bloomlyn line. His bright blue hair shimmered faintly in the dappled sunlight, and his sharp red eyes—a striking trademark of Bloomlyn blood—were fixed on the window. Yet, unlike the fiery ambition or aloof arrogance often found in noble heirs, his gaze held something else entirely: boredom.
Not emptiness, nor despair—just a peculiar, detached weariness.
Even a reincarnator, thrust into this world with the promise of fresh opportunities, would feel a twinge of apprehension as they approached such a monumental chapter of their life. But not this boy.
"How long until we reach the academy, Luth?" the boy asked, his voice breaking the steady clatter of wheels against dirt.
The driver, a weathered man whose face bore the marks of countless sunrises and hardships, replied without glancing back. "We're about ten minutes away from Leidnu City, Young Master. Thirty more to the academy."
A mischievous grin spread across the boy's face as he leaned back, resting his arms behind his head. "Thirty seconds? Minutes? Hours? Days? Mo—"
"Minutes, Young Master," Luth interrupted, his voice tinged with irritation. "Minutes."
Arthas let out a chuckle, the grin still plastered on his face. "Huhu, always so serious, aren't you, Luth?"
"Unless you want me to toss you out of this carriage, kindly hold your tongue," the driver shot back, his tone blunt but not unkind.
Arthas raised his hands in mock surrender. "Will do~"
It was an odd sight—this banter between a noble heir and his driver. Arthas seemed unconcerned with decorum or the weight of his family name, finding solace instead in teasing the man who had been tasked with ferrying him.
But there was a reason for Luth's bluntness, just as there was a reason for Arthas's carefree demeanor. As the youngest son of the Bloomlyn line and a child of mixed blood, Arthas was seen as a stain on his family's name. His father and elder brothers regarded him with nothing but contempt, their hands quick to punish and their words quicker to belittle. Only his mother and sisters offered him any kindness, sheltering him from the storm of his father's wrath as best they could.
The carriage finally emerged from the forest, revealing a sprawling city in the distance. Leidnu City's towering spires and bustling streets painted a stark contrast to the quiet, wooded path they had traversed.
Arthas leaned forward, his red eyes narrowing with a hint of curiosity. "Ooh~ Quite big~"
Luth said nothing as they passed through the city's gates, the bustling crowd parting to make way for the carriage. Thirty minutes later, they arrived at the academy.
The grand structure loomed before them, its towering stone walls and intricate carvings radiating an aura of prestige and power. Students in neatly tailored uniforms moved through the gates, their chatter and laughter filling the air.
Luth pulled the carriage to a stop, climbing down to unload Arthas's belongings. Without a word, he tossed the bags onto the ground and climbed back into his seat.
Arthas watched him turn the carriage around, the faintest flicker of emotion crossing his face.
"Geez, can't he at least say goodbye?" he muttered under his breath.
Hoisting his bags over his shoulder, he stepped through the academy's gates.
The academy grounds buzzed with energy, a mixture of excitement, ambition, and nervous anticipation. As Arthas walked through the throng of students, his sharp features and distinctive Bloomlyn colors drew attention. Whispers followed him like a growing storm cloud.
"Isn't that the bastard son of Viscount Bloomlyn?"
"Yeah, the resemblance is uncanny. Same blue hair and red eyes as the rest of them."
"Still, a halfling among nobles? It's disgusting."
"Tsk, keep it down, idiot. He might hear us."
"The Bloomlyn bastard... I didn't think he'd actually show up here."
Arthas kept his gaze forward, his expression betraying nothing. Inside, however, he felt the faint sting of their words, a familiar ache that never truly left him. His father's disdain had prepared him for moments like these, though it didn't make them any easier to bear.
Eventually, he reached the tall wooden doors of the Headmistress's Office. Taking a deep breath, he knocked lightly.
"Come in," a calm, melodic voice called out.
Pushing the door open, Arthas stepped inside. The office was spacious, lined with shelves filled with ancient tomes and artifacts. A large window let in streams of golden sunlight, illuminating the mahogany desk at the center. Behind it stood a woman whose presence was almost otherworldly.
Headmistress Estressa was a vision of elegance. Her youthful appearance—flawless features, radiant skin, and golden eyes—contrasted sharply with the knowledge that she was over five centuries old.
Arthas bowed deeply. "A pleasure to meet you, Headmistress Estressa."
"Likewise, youngling," she replied, her lips curving into a faint smile.
"You seem remarkably composed, considering the storm of rumors surrounding you."
"It's unavoidable," Arthas said, his voice steady though tinged with melancholy. "My father never wanted me to be anything more than a failure."
Estressa's expression softened slightly. "A tragic reality, yet here you stand. What is your name?"
"I am Arthas Bloomlyn," he replied, straightening his posture. "Youngest of the Bloomlyn line and the bastard son of the Bloomlyn nobility."
The Headmistress regarded him for a moment before nodding. "Arthas… I see."
She turned to her desk and retrieved a folder. Handing it to him, she said, "This contains your dorm assignment, class schedule, and the key to the storage room. You'll find everything you need for tomorrow's entrance exam. Be punctual."
Arthas bowed once more. "Thank you, Headmistress."
As he turned to leave, she added softly, "Despite what others may say, you are here for a reason. Do not forget that."
He nodded, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before he left the office.
Navigating the labyrinthine academy grounds proved challenging, but he eventually found his dormitory. Once inside, he tossed his bags onto the floor and collapsed onto the bed.
"… What should I do?" he muttered, running a hand through his hair. After minutes of fruitless planning, he sighed, resigned. "I'll just let things play out tomorrow. But I'll make sure it works out… somehow."
As sleep claimed him, the quiet hum of the academy seemed to promise challenges—and opportunities—just ahead.