Aldren's POV
I stared at him, waiting for him to take it back.
"Let me get this straight," I said slowly, rubbing my temples. "You… want to go back to Castellas… as a student?"
Historias nodded. Like it was the most normal request in the world.
I blinked. Took a deep breath. Pinched the bridge of my nose. Then—
"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR DAMN MIND?!"
Historias raised an eyebrow. "Is that a no?"
I gaped at him. "A NO?! Historias, you're two thousand years old! What part of that says 'student' to you?!"
"The part where I look young?" he deadpanned.
I swore the gods were testing me.
"You're the founder of the academy!" I gestured wildly. "People still revere you as some legendary figure! And you—" I pointed directly at his face "—want to enroll like some wide-eyed fifteen-year-old?!"
He crossed his arms. "Technically, I never finished my own education. I left after establishing the academy, so you could say I'm making up for it."
I stared.
"That—" I had to pause and collect myself. "That is the worst excuse I have ever heard in my entire life."
Historias just shrugged. "Well, you're the only one I can ask for sponsorship. Unless you'd prefer I get in through the exams?"
My eye twitched.
"Do you have any idea how much chaos you're going to cause?"
He smirked. "Guess we'll find out."
.......
Vice Headmistress Elara's Office
The soft crackle of a candle flame flickered in the dimly lit office, casting long shadows against the towering bookshelves. Vice Headmistress Elara Vaelcrest sat at her desk, quill in hand, meticulously reviewing student reports. The air smelled of aged parchment and fresh ink, a familiar scent that often lulled her into deep concentration.
A sudden tap against the window disrupted her focus. She glanced up just as a small, enchanted courier bird—crafted from delicate strands of silver mana—fluttered onto her desk, dropping a sealed envelope before dissolving into mist.
Elara raised a curious brow. The wax seal bore an unmistakable insignia—a silver sword wreathed in flame. The personal mark of Aldren Vaelthorn, one of the greatest heroes of the last war and a Knight of the Academy's Founder.
She straightened in her chair, swiftly breaking the seal. Her violet eyes scanned the parchment, her composed expression shifting subtly into something far less guarded—surprise.
To the Esteemed Vice Headmistress Elara Vaelcrest,
I write to you regarding my distant relative, Historias Vaelcrest. Due to certain circumstances, he has lived a rather secluded life, but I assure you, his talents warrant admission into Castellas Academy.
He will be arriving soon to undergo the entrance test. Please ensure that his identity remains undisputed. I trust you to handle this matter discreetly.
Aldren Vaelthorn
Elara's fingers tightened around the edges of the letter. Historias Vaelcrest?
She had never heard that name before.
Aldren Vaelthorn was not a man prone to unnecessary actions. If he had gone out of his way to sponsor someone, then this individual—this Historias—was no ordinary student.
Her gaze flickered over the words again.
"Ensure that his identity remains undisputed."
Her instincts whispered that something about this was unusual.
With a thoughtful hum, she placed the letter down, tapping her nails against the wooden desk. She would have to look into this so-called "distant relative" of Aldren.
After all, secrets had a way of revealing themselves at Castellas Academy.