Shattered Sanity

"With the first overall selection of this year’s Imperial Academy House Draft, House Aureate selects..."

Cassius paused, as his eyes slowly rolled across the hundreds of students waiting throughout the Drafting Grounds before eventually settling upon one particular individual.

"Gary Ironveil."

The moment his name echoed through the voice amplification Array, thunderous applause erupted throughout the amphitheatre.

Gary’s face immediately broke into a wide smile as he rose from his seat, spreading both arms dramatically while openly basking in the attention of the students applauding around him.

"Hahaha! First overall!"

Gary declared proudly, as though anyone within the enormous Drafting Grounds could possibly have missed what had just happened.

"Of course it’s me, who else would it be?"

He muttered cockily, while making eye contact with Riven, as he made his way behind the central stage and towards the house Aureate pavilion behind it.

Clap Clap Clap

Cassius personally watched him approach before clapping several times himself, as their gazes briefly met and the House Aureate leader offered Gary an approving nod that was immediately returned.

Meanwhile, Riven remained completely still within his seat, as his expression betrayed nothing while his back remained straight, his breathing controlled and his eyes remained fixed upon Gary walking towards the golden pavilion.

Yet beneath that carefully maintained exterior, Riven felt an ugly wave of jealousy crawling through his chest as he watched Gary’s retreating back, surrounded by thunderous applause from hundreds of students.

That was exactly where Riven wanted to be.

Not merely because of the applause or the prestige that came with becoming the first overall selection, but because Gary currently represented exactly the sort of individual Duke Dawnriver expected his son to become.

The number one pick.

The man everyone else wanted to beat.

The individual whose name naturally became the standard against which everyone else within his generation would inevitably be measured.

’That should be me...’

Riven thought, as his fingers slowly tightened against his palm while his jaw clenched slightly.

His father had instructed him to make everyone within the Imperial Academy learn to respect the Dawnriver name, yet before Riven had even participated in his first class, someone else had already claimed the position he wanted most.

Gary Ironveil.

At this moment, he was the man everyone was applauding, the student every other incoming recruit was looking towards and the first name that would be remembered from their House Draft.

He was the man to beat.

Then Cedric Valemont leaned towards Argent’s voice amplification Array, as a faint smile appeared across his face while several Aureate seniors immediately turned their attention towards him.

"Well... that’s interesting."

Cedric began.

"Because with House Argent’s first selection of this year’s Draft..."

Cedric paused deliberately.

"We select Riven Dawnriver."

For the second time within barely a minute, the Drafting Grounds erupted into applause, as Riven’s clenched hand immediately relaxed before he rose gracefully from his seat.

Unlike Gary, there was no dramatic spreading of his arms, no laughter and no attempt to encourage the applause surrounding him.

Riven merely adjusted the front of his clothing before stepping into the aisle with the composed dignity expected from a Dawnriver, although internally, satisfaction flooded through him.

Second.

He had been selected second overall.

Step Step Step

As Riven walked down the aisle, countless eyes followed him towards the stage, with some recognizing the Dawnriver surname while others knew only the perfect four-star score displayed upon the appraisal board.

And a select few House representatives knew considerably more.

They knew about the 4.97 confidential evaluation, the Excellent Soul Vessel and the Perfect Storm affinity that had pushed an Imperial Appraisal Array against the absolute limit of what it could measure.

Cedric watched Riven approach with a calm expression.

Argent had already decided before arriving at the Drafting Grounds that if Aureate selected Gary, they would take Riven, while if Aureate selected Riven, they would take Gary.

There had never been any hesitation between those two possibilities.

Riven walked right in front of the stage, stopping briefly before Cedric as he placed one hand across his chest before offering a measured acknowledgement bow.

Cedric smiled before returning the gesture with a small nod.

"Welcome to Argent, Young Lord."

He muttered quietly.

"The pleasure is mine."

Riven replied, as he straightened before continuing towards the enormous silver pavilion positioned behind Argent’s booth.

However, while Riven walked away, the atmosphere throughout the Drafting Grounds had subtly changed.

Gary Ironveil had been selected first overall, while Riven Dawnriver followed immediately behind him as the second selection, dividing the two most coveted recruits of the incoming generation between the reigning champions and the House that had finished merely seventeen points behind them.

Aureate had Gary, while Argent had Riven.

And although neither boy had attended a single class, participated in a single Academy competition or earned even one House Point yet, hundreds of students were already looking between the golden and silver pavilions.

Gary Ironveil versus Riven Dawnriver.

Aureate versus Argent.

Perhaps the comparison would eventually prove meaningless, perhaps one would overwhelmingly surpass the other, or perhaps another student entirely would rise above both.

But as Riven disappeared beneath Argent’s silver banners while Gary watched from beneath Aureate’s gold, the Imperial Academy had already found the rivalry everyone would be watching.

A rivalry that could very well define the next two years.

—------------

(Meanwhile, Mary and Stacy’s POV)

Mary and Stacy were seated considerably farther ahead from where Riven had been sitting, which meant that when he walked down the aisle towards the central stage, he passed almost directly beside them.

Neither girl reacted immediately, as Mary simply stared with her lips slowly parting while Stacy’s eyes widened beside her, both seemingly incapable of properly understanding what they were looking at.

Because in one sense, there was absolutely no possibility of either girl forgetting Riven’s face.

They had spent far too much time together within Ashfang Village, for them to not remember Riven’s face, and yet, the boy walking beside them looked nothing like the Riven they remembered.

Their Riven had been painfully short, if Stacy’s relentless teasing from those days was anything to judge by, standing below both girls and considerably below Garsim while possessing the underdeveloped frame expected from a malnourished slave who had barely received enough food to survive.

However, the person walking beside them now was almost five feet eleven, nearly as tall as a grown man, while his shoulders had broadened considerably and visible muscle filled a frame that Mary remembered being painfully thin.

Even his proportions looked different, with longer legs, broader shoulders and considerably straighter posture changing his entire silhouette from the boy preserved within their memories.

His face retained the same underlying features they remembered, yet somehow those features had sharpened as his body developed around them, making him appear considerably older and more handsome than the Riven they had known.

But perhaps more unsettling than his appearance was the way he carried himself.

Riven walked like a noble, rather than someone attempting to imitate one or nervously remembering lessons regarding where to place his hands or how straight his back should remain.

Every movement appeared natural, from his measured pace and raised chin to the effortless acknowledgement he offered Cedric upon reaching the stage.

There was none of the submissive body language Mary remembered from Ashfang, nor any trace of the instincts belonging to a slave who had learned to carefully observe someone’s mood before deciding whether speaking was safe.

Then there was the greatest contradiction of all, as Mary stared towards his retreating back while the name announced throughout the Drafting Grounds continued echoing inside her mind.

’Riven Dawnriver...’

Dawnriver was one of the Four Great Ducal Houses, while the Riven they had known possessed no title, influential family or inheritance whatsoever.

He had been Riven Veyr, another purchased child being prepared for Imperial recruitment alongside them.

Yet the entire Imperial Academy had just watched him accept the name Dawnriver as naturally as though he had carried it since birth.

Mary slowly turned towards Stacy, only to discover that her sister was already looking at her with exactly the same bewildered expression.

Neither spoke for several seconds.

"Is that..."

Mary finally whispered, unable to finish the question.

Stacy looked back towards the silver pavilion.

"It is."

She whispered.

Mary immediately shook her head.

"It can’t be."

"But it is."

Stacy insisted, although even her voice lacked conviction.

"Look at his face."

"I am looking at his face."

Mary replied quietly.

"That’s why I’m saying it can’t be."

Stacy swallowed, as the contradiction between what they remembered and what they had just witnessed became almost impossible to reconcile.

Every instinct told them that the boy who had just walked past was Riven, while every fact surrounding his appearance, stature and identity told them that he could not possibly be.

Mary looked towards the enormous appraisal board.

Riven Dawnriver — 4.00.

Then towards the Argent pavilion.

Somewhere beneath those silver banners was a boy she had once known as another frightened child from Ashfang Village, except apparently, he was now the second overall selection of the Imperial Academy House Draft.

Mary suddenly felt something throb behind her eyes as she pressed two fingers against her temple.

"Mary?"

Stacy whispered.

"I..."

Mary muttered, as the noise surrounding the Drafting Grounds suddenly seemed strangely distant while, for a brief moment, the world appeared to tilt beneath her.

Memories of Ashfang collided violently against what she had just witnessed.

The short boy.

The slave.

The training grounds.

Garron.

Riven Veyr.

Riven Dawnriver.

Second overall.

Mary shut her eyes tightly as another wave of dizziness passed through her.

"It can’t be him..."

She whispered.

Yet when she opened her eyes again and stared towards House Argent’s silver pavilion, even Mary no longer believed her own words.