The von Einsbern carriages clattered into the courtyard at dawn, their wheels crunching over frost-laced gravel. Leofric stood like a statue at the head of the procession, his wind-whipped cloak snapping like a war banner. Beside him, Arutoria Duskborn adjusted her emerald veil, her calm a sharp contrast to Lyrielle's white-knuckled grip on the carriage door.
Aurelia climbed in first, her ice-blue gown pooling over the seat. Thalric followed, kicking snow off his boots. "Where's William?" he sneered. "Too noble to ride with the rest of us?"
Theron answered by slamming the door, flames flickering in his palms. "He's already gone. Rode ahead on that black stallion of his."
Rowena lingered at the steps, her familiars hissing at the mist coiling off the mountains. Arthur Duskborn offered his hand, but she shrank back, clutching her sketchbook.
"Leave her be," Leofric ordered, his voice carving through the cold. "We've wasted enough time."
The carriages lurched forward, leaving Frostspire's shadow. Ahead, the road to the Proving Grounds vanished into a haze of snow and distant thunder.
William's stallion halted at the edge of a pine-blackened clearing, its breath steaming in the predawn chill. Three figures awaited him—two cloaked in Lonalion scarlet, blades glinting like serpent fangs, and the Count of Blackmoor's son, Edmund, his velvet doublet stained with sweat despite the cold.
"You're late," hissed the lead assassin, her voice muffled by a mask of ash-gray linen. Behind her, the trees groaned as wind sliced through the needles, carrying the metallic tang of distant lightning.
William dismounted, his boots sinking into snowmelt and pine rot. "The assassination waits until tomorrow night," he said, tossing Edmund a sealed scroll. "Your father lives one more day. Throw a feast. Distract him. Praise his loyalty. Let him die believing he outwitted us all."
Edmund's hands trembled as he caught the scroll. "And if he suspects?"
"Then you'll join him in the grave," William said, lightning flickering in his pupils.
The assassin stepped forward, her dagger tracing idle circles in the air. "Why delay? The old fool's guards are already bribed. We could slit his throat tonight."
William's gaze snapped to her. "Because when he dies, Garios' letter will already be 'found' in his study. Let the empire see Lonalion's treachery before the body cools." He turned to Edmund, voice softening like a blade sheathed in silk. "Play your part, and Blackmoor is yours. Hesitate, and I'll let the Lonalions carve your name into your father's bones."
Edmund palmed the scroll and fled into the pines. The assassins lingered, their disdain palpable.
"You trust that sniveling worm?" the leader spat.
William swung onto his stallion, the horizon bruising with stormclouds. "I trust ambition to rot loyalty faster than poison." He spurred the horse toward the Proving Grounds, thunder cracking in his wake.
Behind him, the assassins dissolved into the shadows, their laughter sharp as the blades they'd soon wield.
The Luminara Academy of Arcane Prowess loomed ahead, its arena a colossus of enchanted obsidian and silver veins that pulsed like frozen lightning. Tiered seating spiraled upward beneath the snapping banners of Celestria's great houses:
House von Einsbern's storm-gray standard billowed defiantly, a silver wolf howling against a storm-gray field, claws gripping a sword plunged into a mountain peak.
House Lonalion's crimson flags rippled like fresh blood, the black bull's ruby-eyed glare fixed on the wheat sheaf crushed beneath its hooves.
House Duskborn's emerald banners shimmered, like night-blooming moonweaver flowers, silver-white petals glowing against a deep green field, thorns winding through stems.
Above them all loomed the Imperial dey Cortain standard: a seven-rayed sunburst of gold thread eclipsing a crescent moon, its tri-gemstone center (ruby, sapphire, emerald) winking with stolen magic.
The von Einsbern carriages rolled through the gilded gates, met by a roar of whispers. First came the Lonalions: Garios' earth-stained boots cracked the flagstones, James sneering at Thalric as Ira Lonalion's poison-green gaze locked onto Aurelia. Then House Duskborn—Arutoria's entourage trailing vines that bloomed unnervingly fast, Svana Duskborn shrinking behind her books while Luke Duskborn greeted Theron. Last, the Imperial Family: Robert ascended the emperor's podium, light bending around him like a crown, Jacob scowling at William's lone figure already standing at the edge of the Proving Circle.
"Early?" Leofric's voice cut through the murmurs. His eyes narrowed at William, who stood motionless in full armor, Stormrend's hilt glowing faintly at his hip. "That's new."
Thalric snorted. "Maybe he's finally learned respect."
Aurelia's ice-blue gaze swept the crowd. "Or he's ensuring no one else claims the spotlight."
Theron's flames sparked. "Or he's just done with us."
Above them, Robert raised his hands. Light erupted—dazzling, suffocating—as the arena fell silent. "Today, we witness the strength of Celestria's finest!" His voice boomed, amplified by magic. "Let this Proving remind us that even the flawed may yet serve the empire… if they prove worthy."
Jacob smirked. Princess Liena, seated beside him, gripped her water-laced pendant, her eyes darting to William.
William ignored them all. Focusing only on the path ahead. Winning and proving his worth.