When Vane passed through the heavy wooden door Vorian had pointed out, he found himself in a narrow stone corridor illuminated by dim aether lanterns. As his footsteps echoed, his mind was being crushed under the weight of the hellish moments he had just experienced.
One last time, he whispered internally. I will let this poison flow through me one last time.
He leaned his back against the freezing, damp wall of the corridor. When he closed his eyes, the tears he had been trying to hold back slipped down his cheeks and dripped onto his mud-caked collar. The warm, daisy-scented body of his mother was gone. The betrayal of Kael, whom he had viewed as a father figure for years, had torn a massive hole in his chest. And just moments ago... his biological father, the "savior" he had dreamed of for years, had simply tossed him onto the board as a pawn.
He swallowed the agonizing sob that wanted to tear from his throat. With his muddy, trembling hands, he roughly wiped the tears from his face. He buried the corpse of that pure, love-starved boy who grew up on the farm into the absolute darkest corner of his mind. He gathered himself, squared his shoulders, and continued walking toward the door at the end of the corridor.
Upon entering, his first instinct was to lock the door behind him and draw the heavy velvet curtains over the window. The room was decorated simply but grimly; there was a massive full-length mirror on the wall, a walnut study desk, and a stone fireplace crackling with an aether flame. The young man pulled the carved chair from the desk and collapsed into it, a bone-deep, catastrophic exhaustion washing over him.
The Obsidian Academy... he thought, resting his forehead against the cold wood of the desk. The ruthless slaughterhouse Kael used to talk about years ago, claiming, 'That's where I was forged into a man.' I cannot act without a plan. Kael was a skilled instructor, but what they taught me on that damn farm might not be enough to survive in this arena of aristocrats.
He lifted his head from the desk and leaned back heavily in the chair. The Academy opened its doors to the heirs of the Ten Pillars and their vassals starting at age fifteen. Heirs and vassals... he calculated. They've been molded by professors for nearly three years. Every single one of them has already mastered how to turn their aether weapons into lethal instruments. I have to catch up to them. I have to learn faster than them.
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
The heavy blows against the door sliced through his thoughts like a blade. Vane slowly got up and unlocked it.
As the heavy wooden door groaned open, King Vorian entered personally. Behind him were three palace servants carrying basins of hot water, clean towels, and folded grey fabrics. The servants' heads were bowed; they were terrified to even breathe, physically trembling.
Vorian's grey, merciless eyes swept over the servants.
"Clean him," he said. His voice was as sharp as a sword stroke, vacuuming all the oxygen from the room. "Dress him in the standard colors of the Obsidian Academy."
Then, he hissed the words that would freeze the servants' blood:
"And carve this well into your minds... Until this boy leaves this room and boards the academy carriage, if even the slightest harm comes to him, if the Queen's poison taints his food or water, or if a single hair on his head is hurt... no one can save you. I will personally burn your souls in the Aether furnaces. Understood?"
The servants collapsed to their knees in sheer terror, murmuring their absolute obedience in trembling voices. Vorian gave Vane one last calculating, piercing look before turning to close the door without another word.
"Your Majesty?" Vane's voice was calm, locked onto those cold eyes looking back at him.
"Yes, Vane?" The King paused. He wondered what the boy would ask of him after recovering so quickly.
Vane steadied his breathing. "Regarding the heirs currently active in the Academy, and the vassals that need to be taken into account... I would like to request comprehensive documentation."
Vorian's eyebrows rose slightly, and a sly, surprising smile appeared on his face. "You know not just your sword, but your mind, Vane. A clever move. I will grant your request."
He signaled to one of the servants with his ringed hand. The woman hastily bowed her head and slipped out of the room like a ghost.
"The guards will come to get you in two hours. Do whatever you must until then. And Vane..." Vorian dropped his final sentence in a dull voice before leaving the room. "...Surprise me."
Not just you, Your Majesty, Vane thought as the door clicked shut. I will surprise all the Pillars.
Now, Vane stood before the massive full-length mirror in the room.
The remaining two palace servants hovered around him like moths. One was rapidly scrubbing the coarse mud off Vane with hot, aether-scented water; the other was hastily cutting and styling his overgrown, blood-matted hair.
Their movements were frantic but flawless, their words strictly measured. "Please raise your arm slightly, My Lord." "Keep your head up, Your Grace."
But Vane's deep purple eyes were reading the micro-expressions on these servants' faces through the mirror. They were touching him as if he were a fragile object made of porcelain only because of the King's death threat; yet their fingertips twitched with disgust. There was absolutely no respect in their eyes.
Forced obedience, Vane thought, looking at his unfamiliar, cleaned-up reflection in the mirror. They wash me because the King commanded it. Hours ago, I had my mother's blood on my hands, and now I am being treated like a nobleman... What a disgusting theater.
The moment the servants finished their work and left the room with their heads bowed, the third servant who had left on the King's orders returned with two thick leather files. "Here you are, Your Grace. The documents you requested."
Vane took the files, firmly shut the door behind the servant, and turned the lock.
He placed the two files side by side on the study desk. The black leather one read 'Pillars', and the tan one read 'Vassals'. Clean work, Vane thought, looking at the papers stamped with the empire's seals.
The apex predators first, he murmured, opening the Pillars file.
On the very first page, a nearly flawless face stared back at him. Prince Julian Leynthey. With his long golden hair cascading over his shoulders and his handsome, arrogant features that looked as though they were carved by a master sculptor, he resembled a prince straight out of a fairy tale. Vane quickly scanned the page.
His grades over the last two years are excellent, top-tier proficiency in swordsmanship, zero weaknesses... A dazzling profile, Vane thought, analyzing the dossier of his half-brother who was only months older than him. Add that angelic, golden face to the mix, and it's obvious why the Queen wants him as the public face of the throne. People don't worship weaknesses; they worship flawless illusions.
He turned to the next page. Kaelia Whittaker, Second Pillar... Lord Theron, Fifth Pillar... Mirabelle Robshaw... He burned every heir's face, abilities, and family ties into his memory.
Next, he opened the Vassals folder. The list was sorted from highest academic grades to lowest. As he flipped rapidly through the pages, his eyes caught a name. Theoretical classes are excellent, practical classes are abysmal... Elian Vallis. The corners of Vane's lips curled up slightly. Perhaps you can fill the gaps in my knowledge.
Lyra Corvus... Kristina Poporin... The list went on.
Just as Vane closed the file, the door was knocked sharply twice. "Time is up, Your Majesty."
Vane quickly grabbed the files, walked over to the aether-fueled fireplace, and ruthlessly tossed them both into the flames. After making sure the papers had curled and turned into pitch-black ash, he unlocked the door and stepped out.
Two heavily armored palace guards escorted Vane out through one of the palace's secret back doors and loaded him into a black steam-carriage with iron-barred windows.
When he stepped out of the carriage—which had climbed from the outskirts of the capital Tropede toward the mountains—the air filling his lungs was freezing and smelled of soot.
The Obsidian Academy looked less like an educational institution and more like a colossal war machine embedded in the heart of the mountain. Towers of black stone piercing the sky, massive spinning brass gears, and thick white smoke spewing from the heavy steam pipes wrapping the main building...
As the carriage passed through the heavy iron gates leading to the main courtyard, the guards who had brought him turned back with the vehicle without a single word.
Vane was left entirely alone in the center of that massive courtyard paved with black stones.
The courtyard was overflowing with the future masters of the Valerius Empire. There were hundreds of young nobles wearing stiff-fabric uniforms in shades of dark grey and brown, similar to the one Vane was wearing. Some had noble family crests embroidered on their sleeves or chests.
The exact moment Vane took a step, the buzzing chatter around him parted in two like a wave of water.
Hundreds of pairs of eyes turned to him. There was a sickly curiosity in their gazes; the first term had started three months ago, so who was this boy arriving in a palace carriage?
Vane continued to walk with his head slightly bowed, paying absolutely no mind to the stares. His eyes caught the epicenter of power standing by the marble fountain in the middle of the courtyard: Prince Julian.
Right next to Julian stood Lady Kaelia, her silver hair pulled into a tight bun, scanning the area with her icy blue eyes. The legitimate heir of the Second Pillar (Steel and Structure). On his left was the colossal Lord Theron, standing nearly two meters tall, half his face covered in burn scars. The heir of the Fifth Pillar (Earth and Gravity).
Prince Julian saw Vane. There was not a shred of anger in those golden-blue eyes. It was obvious the news of his bastard brother being exiled here had already reached him. The other heirs also cast a brief glance at him, then Julian said something to them, and they all lost interest, returning to their conversation.
Perfect, Vane whispered to himself. Thanks for ignoring me.
The inside of the Registry Building was filled with the mechanical clatter of constantly operating aether-typewriters. Sitting behind a massive brass desk, the elderly clerk examined Vane's papers with a condescending glare.
Then, his eyes widened like saucers. "Vane Leynthey... Y-You." The entire kingdom, courtesy of the Queen's endless wrath, was well aware of who Vane was and just how unwanted he was.
"Vane Leynthey... According to the documents, you have been assigned to the Vassals' floor," the clerk said, trying to reign in his initial disdain. "Your dormitory is in Block D. Right above the boiler rooms."
Vane took the brass key marked D-404. As he turned around and walked toward the door, he collided with a massive shadow stepping inside.
More accurately, it felt like he had crashed into a walking brick wall. He had to stumble a step or two backward just to keep his balance.
"Watch where you step, mud rat."
Vane slowly raised his head. The person standing before him was a colossal youth with a neck almost as thick as a bull's. With a muscular body straining the seams of his uniform and sword scars on his face, he looked like a human behemoth.
Caelum, Vane thought. Carving the faces from the dossiers into his mind was already paying off.
He could snap my neck with one hand. The rumors probably spread fast in the academy, so this brute knows exactly who I am too, Vane calculated. He expects a reaction. A practical provocation.
"My apologies, it was my fault," Vane said incredibly calmly, taking a small step in the direction he wanted to go.
Caelum's massive hand clamped onto Vane's shoulder like a vice. "Looks like that whore of a mother didn't give you the necessary moral education on how to behave around nobles!" Caelum roared.
A switch flipped in Vane's mind. Fueled by the feral rage of having just lost his mother, his right hand instinctively twitched to summon his rusted dagger—but the ice-cold logic he had begun to construct in the palace instantly stopped him.
Not yet. First, weigh everyone. Hide your strength.
Vane didn't look at Caelum; instead, he looked directly at the elderly clerk who had frozen behind the desk. His voice was clear enough to echo in the room, but laced with a dangerous calm: "My father filled out these documents personally, with his own royal seal. Surely, if he wanted harm to come to his son in the very first minute he stepped into the academy, he would have done it himself, right?"
It was an utter lie that Vorian cared about him at all, but the fact remained: he was sent here directly by the King, escorted by royal guards. A look of sheer terror instantly washed over the clerk's face. Even the possibility of the King's wrath turning toward him was enough to spur him into action.
"Hey! I don't want a brawl in here!" the clerk yelled, scrambling up from the desk. "The boy is new. Go settle your issues in the training grounds!"
Caelum, albeit reluctantly, loosened his vice-like grip on Vane's shoulder. "Hmph, lucky bastard!" he grunted, continuing to walk further into the building with his cronies.
Reaping the rewards of quick thinking, Vane thought. He turned his head to thank the clerk, but the man had already buried himself back in his typewriter, ignoring him completely. Following the brass directional signs on the walls, Vane made his way toward Block D, room 404.
Block D was like the rotting intestines beneath the Academy's elite structure. As he descended the narrow, damp stone stairs where the lighting constantly flickered, the hot steam leaking from the surrounding aether pipes hit his face.
He pushed open the wooden door of room 404.
It was cramped. Two iron cots, a study desk, and a leaking steam pipe on the wall. The moment the door opened, the boy sitting on the other cot jumped up. The brass pocket watch in his hand fell to the floor with a loud clang.
The moment Vane saw the boy, he recalled the file. Theory is excellent, practical is zero... Elian Vallis. On the collar of his uniform was the emblem of House Vallis, a vassal of the Ninth Pillar: an ear of wheat. The Vallis family were merchants; powerless logisticians far removed from the battlefield.
"Y-You..." the boy stuttered, pressing his back against the wall. "You're him. The one everyone is talking about..."
Vane slowly closed the door. He was aware the boy was scared; after all, Vane's very existence was a walking scandal.
Vane slowly bent down and picked up the brass pocket watch from the floor. He lightly dusted it off and held it out to the boy, trying not to spook him. He needed to calm him down; Elian was the perfect, harmless source to fill his knowledge gap about the academy. Gaining the boy's trust was a strategic necessity.
"My name is Vane," he said in a soft, exhausted voice, his shoulders slumping. He dropped his bag onto his cot and let out a deep sigh. "You don't need to be afraid of me. I'm just an unwanted seed of sin thrown here from the palace."
The boy's fingers trembled as he took the watch, but Vane's docile demeanor had somewhat relaxed him. "E-Elian," he gulped. "Elian Vallis."
Yes, I know exactly who you are, Elian, Vane thought to himself.
Vane sat on his bed, taking his face between his hands. "I've had a hard... a very hard few days, Elian. I can't understand why you would be afraid of me, believe me, with this exhaustion, it's doubtful I could even hurt a bird right now," he said, playing the pity card.
"I-I'm sorry, Vane. I thought you-" Before the boy could finish his sentence, Vane interrupted with a bitter smile.
"I what? A bully who would jump on you the moment he entered the room, rough you up, and make you his errand boy? Or a spoiled noble who would look down on you? I am neither, Elian, don't worry."
The fearful boy, albeit hesitantly, dropped his shoulders. "I'm sorry, Vane. It's just... the things they say about you aren't exactly uplifting."
Vane pulled his hands from his face, looking with what appeared to be innocent curiosity. "What kind of things, Elian?"
"Everyone says different things about you," Elian said, lowering his voice. "For example, one of them is that the reason the King abandoned you is because you're cursed. They blame you for the lightning that struck the central church in the capital on the day you were born. The other is much more... terrible rumors regarding your mother..."
Vane's gaze instantly hardened.
"Just a bunch of things like that," Elian tried to quickly brush the topic aside.
So this is what they say behind my back, Vane thought. It's blatantly obvious who planted these poisonous seeds. He pictured the Queen's repulsive silhouette in his mind. Let them think whatever they want.
The young man pulled off his heavy boots and lay down on the bed. "Elian... Back at the registry building, a giant named Caelum from House Taurus almost crushed me. I don't know the rules here. I have absolutely no basic knowledge."
Vane looked at Elian, feigning utter helplessness.
"Don't you have a soul weapon?" Elian asked, finding a bit more courage. "Didn't they give you resonance training at the palace?"
"I was only in the palace for two or three hours, Elian. My life was spent on a remote farm a day's ride from the capital," Vane said. He raised his right hand in the air and focused his aether. The rusted dagger materialized in his palm in an instant.
"I have a soul weapon. Here it is, just this... A useless rusted dagger," he said, laughing mockingly.
A strange look appeared on Elian's face. It was obvious he was wondering how someone carrying the King's blood could possess such a pathetic soul weapon.
"What? Not quite worthy of the Pillars, is it?" Vane continued his sarcasm.
Elian sat on his bed. "So you're saying you never lived in the palace. You were on a farm until the last few hours of your life, and now... Exactly how did you end up here, Vane?"
Vane began to speak in a mockingly playful, nonchalant tone, "The man who raised me for years received a mysterious letter the day before my birthday, and rushed to the palace. When he returned, we blew out the candles on my cake..." His voice trembled, intentionally this time. "And then..."
The fear in Elian's eyes gave way to pity. "You don't need to continue, Vane."
Vane took a deep breath, acting as if he was composing himself. "In short, in the middle of a war for the throne, whatever happens to the illegitimate child and his mother, is exactly what happened, Elian. The only difference is, I am here... And my mother is in a grave I dug with my own hands."
"I'm sorry, Vane, I just-"
Vane smiled softly at the boy. "I know, Elian, it's really okay. Now, I'm asking you to tell me the details about the Academy. Will you help me?"
"O-Of course. Let me start with this... We vassals cannot enter the Private Wing, that area is reserved strictly for the Pillar heirs. Up until the third year, almost all of our classes were shared. But once our soul weapons awakened and we became capable of controlling aether, the heirs, unlike us, began to receive 'Aether Arts' training behind those closed doors."
Elian nervously twirled the brass watch between his fingers.
"We are not taught how to use Aether destructively in combat, Vane. Only basic defense and attack practices, standard weapon training... The children of Vallis, Corvus, or other minor houses... Our main reason for being here is not to swing swords, but to learn how to turn the gears of the empire. Our classes, which differ from theirs, are about how to stabilize Aether in steam engines, how to establish logistics networks, or how to secure communication lines on the front."
Vane's face froze in feigned shock. What do you mean, no Aether arts? Vane thought. Kael always used to say, 'Aether arts are the sole thing that pushes a soul weapon to its full potential.'
"Just machines? What about fighting? How will we learn to use aether to protect ourselves? Caelum almost attacked me. How am I supposed to defend myself against that giant without the arts?"
"You get what you learn in practice, Vane," Elian said, gulping. The despair in his voice was so genuine it made the room feel freezing.
A flawless system of slavery, Vane thought, his eyes observing Elian. His mind was deciphering this hierarchical cog of the empire.
"But Caelum..." Vane said, with an inquisitive tone. "Is he in the Private Wing? He isn't an heir, so why is he so confident?"
"House Taurus is the greatest military force of the Third Pillar, House Ignis (Fire)," Elian explained, clicking the cover of his watch open and closed.
"Caelum and his kind, even if they don't know aether arts, are here because of their massive builds, stemming from their military bloodlines, and the ruthless practices they've endured since childhood, Vane. The reason he probably bumped into you was to beat you up on the first day and catch Prince Julian's attention. Because, in the upcoming end-of-term event, Prince Julian will need a 'partner' from the vassals."
So Caelum bumping into me at the registry building wasn't just crude bullying, Vane calculated. He wants to hunt me down and tear me apart because he wants to be Prince Julian's 'Sword'. Crushing the illegitimate bastard the Queen hates will earn Caelum a seat at Julian's table. My blood is his ticket to the top.
"What about the professors? What is their stance in these kinds of lethal situations happening in the school?" Vane asked, merely to confirm the answer he already more or less knew.
Elian laughed bitterly, almost hysterically.
"All the professors are directly tied to the Pillars, Vane. The rules are simple: If you get injured or die during 'Practical Training' or from a provocation in the corridor, it simply goes on the records as 'Aether Incompatibility' or an 'Unfortunate Accident'. No one will cross the Pillars for you. Especially not for you..."
Elian paused, lowering his head, afraid that what he was about to say would hurt Vane.
"Especially since I am the King's unwanted bastard," Vane finished the sentence, adding a joyless, small chuckle to his voice.
Elian nodded guiltily. "I'm sorry. But it's the truth. If you want to survive, you must be invisible, Vane. Don't make eye contact, don't respond to provocations. Bow your head. That's how I've survived for three years. Just stay in the shadows."
Vane slowly raised his head and gave Elian a grateful look. "Thank you, Elian. You're right... We have no choice but to be invisible."
Until the perfect time comes, he added internally.
"Everything makes sense now, but what's your story, Elian? What was your life like before coming here?" Vane was genuinely curious about this boy's background.
Elian slowly closed the open cover of his watch. "I-"