Chapter 10: The Unwelcome Arrival
POV: Victor
The iron-wrought gates of the Imperial Royal Academy rose like towering skeletal fingers against the grey autumn sky. Beyond them lay a sprawl of white marble spires, grand obsidian quadrangles, and manicured dueling arenas designed to mold the high-born elite of the Empire into tomorrow’s generals, high priests, and archmages.
Usually, the arrival of the noble carriages for the new term was a disciplined, orderly affair. Today, however, the grand cobblestone courtyard was stifling with volatile, restless tension.
Whispers burned through the crowd of silk-cloaked noble students and armored scions like wildfire.
"Did you hear? What happened at the Autumn Exhibition..."
"They say Victor Vance used dark curses to break Lady Lyra’s mind..."
"Lord Lucas returned yesterday looking deathly pale. He refused to speak to anyone!"
"If Victor Vance steps foot on these grounds, the High Noble Faction will butcher him before noon!"
Inside the magnificent black carriage bearing the Obsidian Scales of House Vance, Lyra peered through the tinted glass at the hostile crowd, her brow furrowing slightly.
"My father hasn’t revoked my academy clearance..." Lyra whispered, genuine surprise flickering in her icy blue eyes. "I was certain the Duke would use his authority to strip my student status the moment I turned my back on House Frostguard. How are my crest permissions still active?"
I smiled faintly, leaning back against the leather cushions. "Because the Imperial Royal Academy operates directly under the Crown’s charter, Lyra. Even a Duke cannot expel a top-tier student without a formal Imperial trial. Stripping your clearance would force your father to publicly accuse you and that would invite the Archmage Council to audit your mana core. The Church can’t risk anyone discovering what they were leeching from you."
Lyra let out a quiet, bitter hum. "And my personal vault at the Grand Imperial Bank remains untouched. Between my academic merit stipend and my own funds, my father can’t starve me out either."
"And even if he tried," I purred, tapping the coin purse at my belt loaded with gold won from our recent victories, "your backer has more than enough capital to buy this entire quadrangle."
A faint, confident smile touched Lyra’s lips. "Then let us give them a proper show."
The carriage came to a complete halt in the center of the courtyard.
The door swung open.
Lady Lyra von Frostguard stepped down onto the cobblestones.
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.
She did not look like a trembling, dark-cursed victim. Her silver hair fell in immaculate, shimmering waves down her back, and her icy blue eyes burned with a sharp, sovereign brilliance that made even senior nobles avert their gaze. Her skin was flushed with vitality, her natural high-tier frost mana swirling gently around her shoulders like a delicate diamond mist.
Directly behind Lyra stepped Aria, dressed in the crisp, dark silver-and-black uniform of House Frostguard’s personal retainers.
She held a leather travel chest in one hand, her cat-like ears flicking lazily beneath a neat hood. To the untrained eyes of the noble students, she looked like nothing more than a quiet, exceptionally capable personal servant. But her slitted golden eyes scanned the surrounding crowd with predatory disinterest, her hand resting casually near the hidden daggers at her waist.
And finally, stepping out behind them with calm, unhurried grace, was me.
I adjusted the dark velvet cuffs of my coat, sweeping my gaze across the sea of staring faces. My obsidian mana remained quiet beneath my skin, giving off the illusion of absolute stillness, but the authority in my posture was undeniable.
Standing at the forefront of the hostile crowd was Young Lord Julian Crestfall, the arrogant nineteen-year-old heir to the Crestfall Viscounty and the leader of the Church-aligned *Sol-Guard Society*. Behind him stood a dozen noble enforcers.
"Lyra!" Julian shouted, taking three heavy steps forward, drawing his rapier as its blade lit up with a sharp, yellow light mana. "Step away from that heretic! Lord Lucas warned us that Victor Vance deployed dark sorcery! Do not fear the Sol-Guard Society will protect you!"
Lyra didn’t flinch. She stepped directly in front of me, her cold, majestic voice echoing across the silent courtyard like a whip crack.
"Lower your steel, Julian, before I freeze the blood inside your veins," Lyra said coldly.
Julian froze, his glowing rapier faltering. "L-Lady Lyra...? You... he has twisted your mind! You are betrothed to Lord Lucas! Your father!"
"My father sold my freedom, and Lucas was a leech who fed on my core while I lay dying," Lyra interrupted, her voice dropping into a register so sharp it sent an icy wind howling across the courtyard. "I stand beside Victor Vance of my own free will. Touch him, and you declare war on House Frostguard’s true heir."
The courtyard erupted into absolute chaos. Noble students began whispering frantically, darting terrified glances between Lyra and Julian. The narrative the Church had spun overnight was shattering in real-time right before their eyes.
Julian’s face flushed deep crimson with humiliation. "Traitorous witch! I will cut the dark curse straight out of your "
Before Julian could finish his threat, I took a single step forward.
I didn’t draw a blade. I simply unleashed a fraction of a percent of my [The True Sovereign] title, pushing a dense, heavy pulse of obsidian mana straight into Julian’s direction.
*BOOM!*
An invisible, suffocating pressure slammed into Julian’s chest like a phantom hammer. The yellow light on his rapier vanished instantly. His knees buckled under the sheer weight of the aura, and he collapsed onto the cobblestones with a harsh gasp, his sword clattering uselessly against the stone.
The twelve Sol-Guard enforcers behind him scrambled backward, their hands flying up to their throats as the air in the courtyard grew bitter cold and suffocatingly thick.
I stopped two feet from the kneeling young lord, looking down at him as if he were nothing more than an inconvenient pebble in my path.
"The Imperial Royal Academy is an institution of strength and intellect, Lord Julian," I purred, my dark eyes gleaming with suppressed obsidian light. "If the Church wants to play little political games with my name, tell Lucas to come challenge me himself. Sending loud, pathetic dogs to bark at my feet only embarrasses your masters."
Julian trembled on the stone, unable to force a single word past his constricted throat as my mana pinned him to the floor.
I turned back toward Lyra and Aria, a smooth, victorious smile gracing my lips.
"Come," I said softly, offering my arm to Lyra. "Let us go register for our quarters. We have a very busy term ahead of us."
Lyra took my arm with a radiant, icy smile, while Aria trailed half a step behind her as a dutiful attendant, casting one last, mocking glare at the terrified crowd before we walked through the grand archway of the main hall, leaving a courtyard of broken illusions in our wake.