[POV: Liselotte]

  The royal carriage rolled forward with a gentle rattle over the cobblestones of the northern district of the capital. Through the window, Whirikal’s urban ndscape had changed dramatically. Gone were the severe stone walls of the castle and the bustling markets of the central district; here, the streets were wider, lined with weeping willows already beginning to turn white with the morning frost, and elegant buildings with bluish ste roofs.

  What caught my attention most wasn’t the luxury of the fa?ades, but the people. Everywhere, young men and women around our age walked in groups, ughing or arguing with books tucked under their arms. Almost all of them wore fitted ash-gray jackets with golden trim, or short cloaks of deep blue.

  “Look at them, Lotte. They seem so… free,” Leah murmured, pressing her face against the gss with a curiosity that reminded me of the ten-year-old girl she used to be.

  “It’s quite a striking uniform,” Chloé commented from the seat across from us, her ears twitching beneath the hood of her cloak. “They smell like ink and old paper. Too much civilization for my taste.”

  Barnaby, who was traveling with us while maintaining his impeccable posture despite the movement of the carriage, folded his gloved hands over his p and gave us a calm look.

  “What you are seeing, young dies, is the result of a vision that defied the conventions of its time,” the butler began, his voice filling the space with the authority of a historian. “The Academy of Magic and Arts of Whirikal was not born from a royal decree meant to segregate the nobility. Seventy-five years ago, a wandering mage known as Elias the Gray sat in these very streets. He had no nds and no lineage, but possessed a knowledge of mana flows that put the court schors to shame.”

  Leah turned toward him, intrigued. “Elias the Gray? I’ve heard that name in the chronicles, but I thought he was a legend.”

  “He was very real, Princess,” Barnaby continued. “He began with five students: three war orphans and two bakers’ sons. He taught them in alleyways, without charging a single copper coin. He cimed that talent was a gift from the goddess, and that charging for it was a sin against her. His fame grew so much that nobles began sending their children to study with him, mixing with commoners in the filth of the streets.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised the nobles allowed that.”

  “They didn’t at first, Lotte,” Barnaby replied with a faint smile. “But the king of that era—His Majesty William’s grandfather—saw the potential. Seventy years ago, he financed the construction of the main campus and formalized the institution. Elias accepted under one single condition: education had to remain free. To this day, the Academy charges neither enrollment fees nor tuition. The King covers all operating expenses from the royal treasury.”

  I grew thoughtful, watching the students outside. In my past life as Edward, I remembered that in stories of this genre, academies were often money-making machines for the aristocracy or exclusive indoctrination centers.

  “Wait… and the uniforms?” I asked. “They look expensive. Aren’t they mandatory either?”

  “They are not,” Barnaby expined. “They are made by tailors external to the Academy. Those who can afford them buy them as a sign of pride, but you will see many students wearing simple hemp or leather clothing. What matters within those walls is not the silk you wear, but the purity of your magical circuit and the sharpness of your mind. King William maintains this policy because he seeks raw talent; in fact, he offers an automatic position in the Royal Guard or the Council of Mages to the top student of each graduating css, regardless of their origin.”

  I felt a genuine respect for Leah’s father. He was building a meritocracy in a world that, according to what Tiara had told me, was being maniputed by “goddesses” who despised human effort. William was arming his people with knowledge—the one weapon the deities could not fully control.

  The carriage finally stopped in front of wrought-iron gates depicting a tree whose branches turned into rays of light. When we stepped down, the immensity of the campus took my breath away. Towers of white stone crowned with gss domes rose among perfectly manicured gardens.

  Barnaby guided us straight to the administrative building, a circur structure that emanated a powerful aura of protection. We entered a spacious office filled with bookshelves that reached all the way to the ceiling. Behind a mahogany desk stood the Director, a middle-aged man with thin-framed gsses and the distracted air of a schor.

  “Ah, Barnaby. A pleasure to see you again,” the Director said, rising to his feet. “And these must be our new students. Princess Leah, it is an honor. Guardian Liselotte, I have heard much about your… elemental affinity. And Miss Chloé, welcome.”

  “Director Arkanis,” Barnaby greeted with a bow. “I bring the sealed orders from His Majesty.”

  Arkanis reviewed the papers quickly. “Everything is in order. You may begin csses tomorrow. We have assigned you a schedule that bances magical theory with combat training. For today, I suggest you rest and familiarize yourselves with your surroundings.”

  The Director rang a small bell, and almost immediately a teacher with a stern appearance but kind eyes entered the room.

  “Professor Vanya, please escort the young dies to the North Wing dormitories. They have been assigned the suite on the fourth floor,” Arkanis instructed, before turning back to Barnaby. “You and I have budgetary matters to discuss, old friend.”

  We left the office as Barnaby and the Director plunged into a conversation about logistics. Professor Vanya led us through corridors lit by crystals of perpetual light until we reached a residential building that looked more like a luxury hotel than a student dormitory.

  When we entered our room, even I was impressed. It was an enormous suite with three individual canopy beds, a private sitting room with a firepce, a carved study table, and a balcony offering a panoramic view of the entire city of Whirikal.

  “It’s… incredible,” Leah whispered, running toward the balcony. “It’s much bigger than I imagined.”

  Chloé jumped onto one of the beds, testing the softness of the mattress. “If the csses are half as comfortable as this bed, maybe staying here won’t be such a bad idea.”

  I approached Leah as she gazed at the academy lights beginning to flicker on under the twilight. She looked happy, with an expression of peace she rarely showed at the castle. For a moment, I forgot Tiara’s warnings, the Church’s conspiracies, and the ocean of power burning in my veins.

  “Lotte,” Leah said, turning toward me with eyes shining with excitement. “Tomorrow we’ll finally be students. No protocols, no having to look over our shoulders every second… it’ll just be us, learning new things. I’m really excited.”

  I smiled back at her, letting my own tension ease a little. “Me too, Leah. Though I still think the uniforms are a bit over the top.”

  “You’ll look great in one!” she ughed, nudging me pyfully.

  I looked out over the city. I knew this calm was a temporary gift, a bubble before the storm of Gaia and Liliath reached us. But as I watched my friend recim her joy, I decided I would enjoy this “school-life cliché” as much as I could. After all, even the guardians of a pnet need a break before saving the world.