The afternoon sun shimmered on the pearlescent walls of Escarton Academy, casting a pale golden glow across its towering spires and wide, ceremonial archways.
I took a slow breath, relishing the way the crisp mountain air filled my lungs—clear and clean, the kind of air that promised a new beginning.
My boots clicked with quiet precision against the marbled steps as I approached the academy gates, tall and gleaming like the jaws of some ancient beast just waiting to judge those who dared walk through.
I could feel eyes on me already, students and attendants loitering around the plaza, chatting idly or feigning indifference while sneaking glances my way.
I bet they're too awestruck by my good looks. Good.
I knew what they saw: a tall young man in formal traveling attire, lean and straight-backed with a tailored coat cinched neatly at the waist, long teal hair swept back into a low, elegant knot in the style of nobility.
My amber eyes were steady, focused, and my voice, should I need to speak, was androgynous and firm.
Drop dead gorgeous if I say so myself.
I mean, I did get those passionate lingering gazes when I crossdress back when I had to um well, put nobles in their place with a bit of force.
Anyway, no one outside the country knows what Albert's features are because I make sure no one can use my younger brother against me, so I limit the information about him to the max.
So, aside from our family and my close aides and a few close friends, no one else knows what Albert Fennia Nightreign truly looks like.
The rest of the world thinks that I, cross-dressing as a man, is what Albert looks like, for I did kind of use his identity when I wanted to tackle some task that needed force, and I can't do so as a queen…
Anyway,
I halted before the checkpoint. The guard, a broad-shouldered woman with shorn hair and a visor embedded with glimmering runes, looked up and down at me, then at the slim figure a step behind me.
He fidgeted.
Poor thing. I couldn't help the twitch of a smile as I glanced over my shoulder at my "servant." Albert was wrapped in a plain cloak and stiff-backed with nerves. He looked like a deer about to bolt at the first loud noise.
"Identification," the guard said.
"Of course." I presented mine with a casual flick of my wrist—an ivory-cradled crystal no bigger than a plum, its surface shifting with inner light like molten sapphire.
"Albert Fennia Nightreign, younger brother of Great Queen Feria Avelia Nightreign of Terah Kingdom," I said smoothly, using the name etched into the artifact-grade illusion draped over my body like a second skin. "And my attendant, Al."
My brother nearly dropped his ID crystal. I didn't flinch, only passed it forward along with mine, my movement fluid, precise, noble.
The disguise was absolute—crafted from an ancient draconic relic and bound with my blood. It didn't waver. It wouldn't. Not even under a truth seal.
The relic I first picked when I was able to access the great Nightreign Ancestral Treasure Vault. My father even looked at me like I was planning some trouble when he realized what it could do, but I just shrugged back then.
The guard took both crystals and pressed them against the scanning mirror. Light fanned outward like ripples across water, scanning, verifying, recording.
My heart didn't even stir in my chest. But behind me, I could hear Al holding his breath, practically vibrating with tension.
A pause. Then, the mirror flashed green.
"Approved. Welcome to Escarton Academy, Lord Albert. A footman will escort you to your designated lodging."
The guard gestured, and from within the gate a young man in livery appeared, bowing crisply. "This way, my lord."
I nodded my thanks. But before following, I turned and gently reached up to tousle my brother's hair, ignoring his scandalized expression as I murmured, "Breathe, Al. You'll wrinkle your robes with all that clenching."
"I can't help it Si- I mean my Lord," he muttered, cheeks red.
"Breath Al and believe in me, your Lord." I gave him a conspiring smile and turned toward the footman.
We walked through the main gates, my strides long and unhurried, the picture of composed nobility. My coat fluttered just enough to make a visual statement, but not enough to seem like I was trying.
Whispers trailed in my wake.
"Who's that…?"
"That's Lord Albert, famous younger brother of Queen Feria of Kingdom Terah, didn't you hear? Thought he vanished after the border skirmish—"
"Look at that hair—those eyes. That's sure is a Nightreign blood, no doubt about it."
"And that aura—gods, the way he walks…"
I didn't need to turn around to feel it: awe, curiosity, the sharp glint of rivalry beginning to spark behind narrowed eyes.
I knew this game. I'd played it at court since I could string together a sentence.
As we crossed through the great courtyard toward the upper dormitory tower, the Academy spread out before us like a kingdom waiting to be conquered.
The cherry trees were in early bloom, petals drifting on the wind like lazy snow. The banners of the Eight Sages fluttered overhead. Magic hummed beneath every stone, restrained but thrumming with potential.
And I, Feria, in the form of a man, walked into it all with the poise of a man who belonged.
The dormitory quarters were better than I expected—polished marble floors, a full-length enchanted mirror that probably offered wardrobe suggestions if you whispered to it, and large windows that framed the Escarton mountain range like a painted mural.
Luxurious muslin and silk drapes, gleaming brass fixtures, a personal bath, and—thank the gods—a bed that didn't feel like it was stuffed with hay and regret.
The footman bowed after ushering us in. "If you require anything, Lord Albert, just ring the bell."
"I will. Thank you," I replied with a brief smile.
He left, closing the heavy oak door behind him with a soft click.
I waited.
One heartbeat… two…
Then I pressed the ruby gem in my wristwatch.
A low chime vibrated through the air as a shimmer of deep blue rippled outward, sealing the room in a barrier of silence that could block out even a battle cry.
Military-grade, top-tier. Nothing would get past this. Not whispers, not names, not secrets.
I turned around.
"Finally," I sighed, reaching up and undoing the knot in my hair, letting the long teal strands spill free like a river sliding out of a bottle. "I swear, if I had to keep pretending to care about the footman's posture for five more seconds—"
"You scared me, Sis," Al states softly.
I blinked. "Sorry. I didn't mean to, Al."
He was still standing awkwardly by the door, cloak bundled in his arms like a security blanket.
His wide hazel eyes were stuck on me like I'd grown wings and declared myself queen of the sun.
"Big Sis," he muttered, "I just watched you, my sister, turn into a majestic, radiant man without any warning. I was thinking perhaps you suddenly got struck by a shapeshifting curse or something… "
"Aw, I'm sorry, lil bro. I was aiming to you know enter with a great flair and didn't think it would scare you." I dusted off my lapel and gave him a sly grin, and added. "Don't worry, I'm still me, just a bit more manly. Taller too. My real legs could never make that coat work after all."
"Is that so. I mean heard rumours about you being good-looking. And I knew you had a disguise artifact. Hugh told me. During the Conquest. He said you sometimes shift when diplomacy needs a… masculine touch."
Al's face flushed slightly. "But I thought he was exaggerating! Like, some minor illusion, a fake mustache, a voice modulator—not this… this whole epic romance novel prince aesthetic!"
I couldn't help it. I barked a laugh. "Romance novel? Really?"
"Have you seen yourself?" he squeaked, finally letting his cloak drop onto the bed. "You don't walk, you glide. I saw a girl clerk outside almost faint."
"She had fragile ankles. Not my fault."
He groaned into his hands. "And your voice! It sounds like someone poured silk into a wine glass and added thunder."
"Oho! Captivating thunder," I repeated, eyes dancing. "That's going in my battle resume."
"Feriaaa," he whined, throwing a pillow at me. I caught it with one hand and flopped dramatically onto the bed, lounging like a cat that just escaped a show.
"Oh come now," I said, propping my chin on one hand, "don't be so overwhelmed. It's just the beginning of our glorious academic career. You're going to love it. Debates, theory, sleepless nights full of reading obscure grimoires…"
Al's face, which looked like he'd swallowed a lemon, begins to shift to that adorable, handsome smiling face I know best.
I sat up. " Take your time and enjoy, Al. I have let you stay in a tiny corner of the world way too long. So explore! Go adventure and let our time here be filled with memories. We're here for months. And remember, you can take the classes that you want and make friends."
I wiggled my fingers, "There are other servants who are taking master courses here at Escarton as well. Take advantage of making connections without the weight of your royal blood."
He nodded slowly, then mumbled, "Do I have to keep calling you 'my lord' in public?"
I arched a brow. "Only if you want to, and if not, just call me Fen, Hailey's baby nickname for me."
He grinned. "Fen."
"Yup, Big Sister Hailey can't pronounce R back when she was really young, so she used to call me, Fen~" I explained as I handed Al some cookies.
"Now," I stood, smoothing my jacket and adjusting my collar, "orientation supper. First impressions, Al. We've got to make sure you're seen as the quiet, mysterious servant with surprising intellect. Tragic past, maybe. People eat that up."
"Tragic past? I stubbed my toe last week."
"Use that," I said solemnly. "Channel the pain."
Edan giggled despite himself, then sighed, running a hand through his short-cropped hair. "You're really not nervous at all, Big Sis?"
"Why would I be?" I said, giving him a wink as I headed for the wardrobe. "I'm already the most dashing man here."
The orientation supper was held in the Grand Hall of Mirrors, a dazzling chamber with a ceiling painted like the heavens and enchanted so that the stars shimmered and shifted with real constellations.
Massive chandeliers of floating crystal hovered overhead, casting gentle light over velvet-lined chairs and silver-gilded tables.
The academy's elite had gathered—nobles, prodigies, sons, and some daughters of legacies centuries old. Some bore the effortless elegance of true aristocracy. Others wore it like a costume. Regardless, the room reeked of status and subtle scrutiny.
Albert stuck close to me, moving like a shadow, head bowed in the appropriate manner for a servant.
I knew he was nervous, but he did it anyway—for me.
Whispers trailed behind us like smoke.
"That's the Nightreign boy… from the frontier kingdom, yes?"
"What do they call it? Ah, Terah. Hmph. Upstart land of merchant-kings."
"I heard their queen wears armor and holds war councils during tea."
My smile never wavered.
"Lord Albert Nightreign, I presume?" A voice, cool and silk-wrapped in mock courtesy, floated toward us.
I turned with a fluid grace, coming face-to-face with a boy way younger than me, tall, pale, with white-gold curls and the kind of face that seemed permanently disapproving.
His collar was too stiff, his crest too bright. A subtle scent of peacock feathers and entitlement wafted from him.
"Lord Sid of House Deroux," he added, as though I should bow just hearing it. "We weren't expecting… representation from Terah."
I inclined my head just enough to pass as polite. "The Academy made no such limitations. Or have they begun turning away students based on the excessive popularity of their homeland?"
He smiled, the kind of smile meant to bite. "Popularity? More like for its infamous Queen. It's simply surprising. Most of us assumed Terah's exports were limited to brittle magic crafts and stories of your queen's 'glorious reforms.' But I see now… she's sent her own kin to advertise its beauty instead."
Laughter trickled around us, thin and brittle.
My fingers itched for steel.
"Indeed," I said, tone silk-smooth. "She believes firsthand excellence and beauty are the best kind of advertisement. It's so quaint to see how the old bloodlines mistake beautifulinnovation for marketing."
Sid's eye twitched, just a little.
"Ah, and the 'servant,'" he added, turning his attention to Al. "How democratic of you. Bringing help to dinner. Or is he your chaperone dressed like a beggar?"
That got a bigger laugh. I felt Al's shoulders tense beside me.
I stepped slightly forward, just enough to shade him.
"He's actually being modest for your sake. For a sage would quickly discern fancy-dressed pigs from elegant swans. But it seems you're no sage. No wonder you enrolled here." I retorted with a bright smile.
"Besides, he's more capable than most people in this room," I said, voice lower now, edged like a whetted blade. "But then, I suppose it's hard to recognize talent when you've spent your life polishing your own reflection."
Sid's smile dropped a fraction.
"How fascinating," he murmured. "You speak well for someone raised among wooden roads and goat paths."
"And you insult poorly for someone groomed for diplomacy."
Bring it on, snotty brat. I could butcher you with words if you let me.
There was a pause, tense and glassy. The hall had grown quieter. Eyes began to shift toward us.
"I wonder," Sid said, reaching for his wine but not drinking it, "how much of your reputation is talk. Would your skill match your tongue, Lord Albert?"
My grin unfurled, slow and dark and unshakable.
Not words then, beating him with a sword sounds pretty good to me too.
"I was wondering when you'd stop hiding behind etiquette. Shall we take this to the arena?"
He hesitated—just a second. I leaned in.
"You're not backing down now, are you, Lord Sid? Just look at the eager crowd." I taunted as I saw Sid bite his lower lip.
You asked for it, brat. You gotta pay the price of riling me up!
The training coliseum was a sacred place: ancient, circular, blessed with leyline convergence, and maintained by Swordmasters of the Ascended Path.
Each student was granted one open duel per term that allowed the use of both blade and magic.
By the time we stepped onto the platform, the audience ring was filling—students, instructors, and even a few faculty heads curious about the foreign noble whose name was spreading like wildfire.
The arena's high judge called for acknowledgment.
"Lord Albert Nightreign of Terah."
I nodded.
"Lord Sid Deroux of Mavernia."
He raised his blade, an elegant rapier laced with storm crystal. No doubt a family heirloom.
I drew mine, a dragon fang longsword, forged in the volcanic hearts of Loam, its core inscribed with runes only dragonkin smiths remembered. It pulsed with a faint hum—alive.
I felt the piercing gaze of swordmasters on me, but I shrugged it off.
If they want to spar, they've got to make an appointment.
The judge's voice boomed: "Duel begins—on strike!"
STRIKE!
Sid lunged.
Fast. Controlled. His blade shimmered with charged wind magic, each thrust accompanied by a burst of sonic pressure. Impressive.
But I was already gone.
The cloak of my movement spell activated mid-step.
I reappeared behind him, sword grazing his shoulder.
First blood is drawn.
The crowd gasped.
He spun, unleashing a shockwave that shattered the ground tiles.
With a swing of my sword, his shockwave inverted and collapsed in on itself, harmlessly.
"Sloppy," I said. "Is that all you got?"
His jaw clenched. His blade shimmered with a higher-tier spell, and he dashed forward again, throwing a barrage of magical slashes.
I dove straight into the storm.
Sparks. Blade. Thunder.
Each clash was a miniature war—light bending, wind screaming, the audience unable to follow with their mortal eyes.
Only the ascended swordmasters seated in the back watched with visible satisfaction, their nods subtle, almost reverent.
And then I struck true.
My blade shattered his guard and stopped at his throat.
He froze.
Silence.
I leaned forward, voice quiet but cruelly clear. "Just to let you know, our roads are actually paved with the newest magic-crafted brick. How about your roads, Lord Sid? Because it seems you need to use those roads soon."
His jaw trembled, but he said nothing.
The judge stepped forward. "Victory for Lord Albert Nightreign."
Cheers erupted, scattered but growing in fervor.
I sheathed my blade and walked off the arena floor, not looking back. Al waited at the entrance, eyes wide with stunned awe.
"You—! Fen, that was—!"
"Captivating thunder," I said, smirking as I passed. "That name just debuted with this match."
Al laughed heartily.
The corridors of Escarton were quieter after nightfall, with only the soft glimmer of enchanted sconces lighting the arched walkways.
The marble floor reflected faint gold beneath our steps as I led Al back toward our dorm, fresh from my victory in the dueling coliseum.
There was a tense silence clinging to him, not from fear, but something like astonishment. Still reeling.
Once the door shut behind us and the ward shimmered to life again with a pulse of protective magic, I turned to face him. His eyes were still round as coins.
"I saw you fight once," he said in a hush. "During the siege of Sumeriri. But this was… different. It looks more like pacifying a baby storm with a whip of your sword!"
"PFFFT! I like your metaphors, lil bro!" I commented on Al's statement.
"You were really awesome, Big Sis! You captivated the whole audience!" Al excitedly commented.
I walked past him, loosening my collar and untying the knot of teal hair, letting it cascade back down. "Good. The audience was my prey."
Al blinked. "Is that so."
I smirked and stepped closer, resting a hand on his head to ruffle his hair gently.
"Al," I said, voice lowering, steady, "if anyone—anyone—tries to look down on you again… you tell me. Immediately. Do you understand?"
He nodded so fast I thought his neck might snap. "Yes, completely. I'll report all slights. Even suspicious blinking."
"Good." I winked. "I prefer to act with full evidence."
The Next Morning
Sunlight filtered through the tall arched windows of the faculty wing, painting the white stone halls with streaks of warm gold and ivory.
My heeled boots echoed crisply against the floor as I stepped inside the registration chamber, bearing the signed course selection parchments for both myself and Al.
The moment I entered, the room fell into a hush. A few professors stood mid-conversation, robes fluttering like startled birds. A clerk dropped her quill. One young aide bowed—too low, too quickly.
I was used to that reaction.
Whispers curled behind my back like smoke. None dared speak too loud, but the magic in the air carried murmurs clearly to a trained ear.
"That's the one who thrashed Lord Sid…"
"I heard he has dragon blood. No wonder the queen made him ambassador…"
"They say he hypnotizes with his eyes. Enchants anyone who stares too long…"
Ridiculous.
Jealousy had many shapes and sizes.
Good thing, as a queen, I'm acquainted with all of them.
Without pause, I walked to the head clerk and presented the documents. "Course selections for Lord Albert Nightreign and his attendant, Al. Confirmed and stamped."
The clerk accepted them with trembling hands. "O-of course. Welcome to Escarton, my lord."
I inclined my head, then turned, letting my coat swirl behind me as I left the chamber. Graceful. Unbothered.