POV: Priam Lockhart
Lady Clarisse's tea party was being held in the Rose Garden Pavilion, an architectural marvel on the academy's eastern grounds. The pavilion was all white marble and delicate lattice-work, draped with climbing roses in shades of pink, white, and crimson. Crystal chimes hung from the eaves, creating a gentle melody as the afternoon breeze passed through them.
It was beautiful, serene, and absolutely designed to make anyone who didn't belong feel like an intruder.
Seraphine and I arrived precisely at the appointed time—neither early nor late. She wore a different dress than this morning: deep violet silk with silver embroidery that matched her eyes, her hair styled in an elaborate updo that added height and presence. Every inch the noble lady.
I'd been given formal serving attire: a pristine white jacket with silver trim, white gloves, and instructions to remain silent unless addressed directly.
So I'm not just attending. I'm working. Perfect cover for observation.
As we approached the pavilion, I could see the gathering was already in full swing. Roughly a dozen young noble ladies sat at an elegant table laden with finger sandwiches, petit fours, and an elaborate tea service. Servants stood at attention around the perimeter.
And at the head of the table, presiding like a queen over her court: Lady Clarisse D'Argent.
She saw us approaching and her face lit up with a smile that could have melted ice. "Lady Seraphine! How wonderful that you could join us!" She stood, moving with practiced grace to greet us. "I was so hoping you'd accept my invitation. Please, sit here." She gestured to a seat directly across from her own.
The hot seat. Where everyone can watch your reactions.
Seraphine's expression remained coolly polite. "Lady Clarisse. Thank you for including me."
"Of course! We're all first-years together. We should support each other, don't you think?" Clarisse's sapphire eyes sparkled with apparent warmth, but I could see the calculation beneath. She glanced at me. "Your butler may join the other servants. Unless you require him at your side?"
It was a test. Requiring a butler's presence at a social gathering suggested either paranoia or dependence—both weaknesses.
"He can attend the servants," Seraphine said smoothly. "I'm certain I'll be in excellent company."
I bowed and retreated to the servant's area, a discrete space behind decorative screens where we could observe without being intrusive. Several other servants were already there, including some I recognized from the midnight gathering.
Kira, Elise Fontaine's handmaid, gave me a subtle nod. Marcus grinned and patted the space beside him. "Welcome to the show," he whispered. "First rule: don't drink anything they offer us. Second rule: memorize everything you hear."
"Third rule?" I asked quietly.
"Pray your mistress survives with her reputation intact."
Back at the main table, Clarisse was making introductions:
"Ladies, I believe most of you know Lady Seraphine de Valois, but let me formally introduce everyone." She gestured around the table. "We have Lady Elise Fontaine, Lady Margot Thorne, Lady Beatrice Crane, and of course, our fascinating new arrival, Miss Liana Hart."
Liana's here. Of course she is. Clarisse is building her social faction and wants to see how Seraphine and Liana interact.
Liana wore a simple but elegant dress—probably provided by the academy or a patron. She sat with perfect posture, hands folded demurely, looking grateful and slightly overwhelmed.
Such a good actress. If I didn't know she was a reincarnator playing the game, I'd believe it too.
"Miss Hart," Clarisse said warmly, "I was just telling the ladies about your unique situation. A commoner admitted to the academy based purely on merit! It's so inspiring."
The words were kind, but the emphasis on "commoner" was deliberate. A reminder of status differences.
Liana smiled modestly. "I'm grateful for the opportunity. Everyone has been so welcoming."
"Well, we must support each other," Clarisse repeated her earlier phrase. "After all, we're the future of the Empire. The relationships we build here will shape our lives for decades to come."
She poured tea—an elaborate ceremony that showcased her training in social graces. Each lady received a cup, selected based on what Clarisse had apparently memorized about their preferences.
When she reached Seraphine, Clarisse paused. "I heard you prefer black tea with a hint of bergamot. I had the kitchen prepare a special blend."
Seraphine accepted the cup gracefully. "How thoughtful."
Is it poisoned? No, too obvious. But drugged? A truth serum? Something to loosen inhibitions?
I activated my [Observation] skill, focusing on the tea service. The cups were all identical, the tea poured from the same pot. No obvious tampering.
But then I noticed—Clarisse had palmed something small when she prepared Seraphine's cup. A subtle movement most wouldn't catch. She'd added something to that specific serving.
[System Alert: Potential Threat Detected]
Suggestion: Intervene or observe?
If I intervene now, it'll cause a scene and make Seraphine look paranoid. But if that tea contains something harmful...
I needed more information. I focused on my newly awakened magical sense, trying to detect anything unusual about Seraphine's cup.
There—a faint shimmer of magic, barely perceptible. Not poison. Something else. An enchantment of some kind.
"So, Lady Seraphine," Clarisse said, taking a delicate sip of her own tea. "How are you finding your classes? I heard you've been assigned to Professor Nyx's advanced track. That must be quite demanding."
"It's acceptable," Seraphine replied, not touching her tea yet.
Good. She's suspicious too.
"Professor Nyx has such a fascinating reputation," Lady Margot Thorne chimed in. She was Garrick's younger sister—similar fox-like features, but softer, more approachable. "They say she's mastered magics that most mages won't even attempt. Is it true she demonstrated Void magic on the first day?"
"She demonstrated theoretical principles," Seraphine said carefully. "As a warning about the dangers of overreach."
"How thrilling!" Clarisse leaned forward, her expression one of excited interest. "And your family's magic—the Valois bloodline—it must be powerful to warrant placement in such an advanced track."
There it is. She's fishing for information about Seraphine's abilities.
"The Valois bloodline has its traditions," Seraphine said neutrally.
"Traditions," Clarisse repeated thoughtfully. "Such an interesting word. Some might say your family's traditions are... controversial. All those whispers about dark pacts and forbidden magic."
The atmosphere at the table shifted. Several ladies looked uncomfortable. Liana watched with wide eyes, as if shocked by the bold statement.
Seraphine's expression remained impassive, but I could see the slight tension in her shoulders. "Whispers are what they are, Lady Clarisse. Unsubstantiated gossip spread by those with too much time and too little wisdom."
"Oh, of course!" Clarisse's laugh was like silver bells. "I didn't mean to suggest I believed such things. I simply meant that navigating those rumors must be difficult for you. Which is why I wanted to extend friendship." She gestured to the assembled ladies. "We're all noble daughters facing expectations and pressures. Supporting each other seems only natural."
She's positioning herself as the generous benefactor offering Seraphine salvation from social isolation. If Seraphine accepts, she becomes indebted. If she refuses, she looks prideful and ungrateful.
"Your consideration is noted," Seraphine said diplomatically.
Clarisse smiled and turned to Liana. "Miss Hart, you must have such a unique perspective on all this. Coming from outside noble society, I mean. What do you think of our traditions?"
Clever. Giving Liana a chance to either defer to noble authority or voice commoner grievances. Either way, it tests her character and potentially creates conflict with Seraphine.
Liana looked genuinely thoughtful. "I think... every society has traditions that can seem strange from the outside. But traditions exist for reasons, even if those reasons aren't always apparent to newcomers like myself. I'm trying to learn and understand before I form judgments."
Perfect answer. Humble, diplomatic, doesn't offend anyone. She's good at this.
"How wise!" Clarisse beamed. "You see, Lady Seraphine? Miss Hart understands the value of keeping an open mind. Perhaps we could all benefit from such an approach."
The implied criticism was subtle but clear: Seraphine was closed-minded, while Liana was adaptable and wise.
Seraphine's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. She reached for her tea cup.
I had to make a decision. Now.
I stumbled—deliberately—knocking into one of the serving stands. A porcelain teapot crashed to the ground, shattering spectacularly and splashing hot tea across the marble floor.
Every eye turned to me.
"Forgive me!" I said, dropping to my knees immediately. "How clumsy! I'll clean this immediately!"
Clarisse's expression showed annoyance for just a flash before her perfect mask returned. "Accidents happen. Someone fetch—"
"Allow me to help," Liana said suddenly, standing. She moved toward me with a handful of napkins. "It was partially my fault—I gestured and may have startled him."
Why is she helping me? What's her angle?
As Liana knelt beside me, ostensibly to help clean, she spoke in a whisper only I could hear: "The tea was enchanted. Truth serum variant. Mild but effective in social settings."
My hands froze. "How did you—"
"I have my methods." Her rose-gold eyes met mine, and for just a moment, the innocent mask slipped. I saw calculation, intelligence, and something else—recognition. "Consider this a professional courtesy. We're both trying to survive this game, aren't we?"
She knows. She knows I'm not the original Priam. She's figured it out somehow.
Before I could respond, Seraphine's voice cut through the moment: "Lockhart. Come here."
I stood immediately, leaving Liana to finish the cleanup. I approached Seraphine, bowing. "My lady, I apologize for my clumsiness—"
"You're dismissed," Seraphine said coldly. "Return to the dormitory. I'll address your incompetence later."
It was for show—establishing that she was displeased without revealing that my "accident" had been deliberate. But it also gave me an exit.
I bowed to the assembled ladies. "Please excuse my disruption. Lady Clarisse, my apologies for ruining your gathering."
"Think nothing of it," Clarisse said, though her smile was strained. "These things happen."
As I retreated, I heard the conversation resume behind me. But the damage was done—Seraphine's tea had been spilled in the chaos, and a new cup would have to be prepared. Any enchantment would be noticed if it was reapplied.
Marcus caught up with me as I left the pavilion. "That was either brilliant or suicidal," he whispered. "Deliberately disrupting a noble gathering?"
"My mistress's cup was enchanted. Truth serum."
His eyes widened. "Clarisse is playing dirty already. And on the first day of classes? That's bold even for her." He glanced back at the pavilion. "Your lady will need to watch her back. Clarisse doesn't forgive obstacles."
"Neither does Seraphine."
Marcus grinned. "This is going to be an interesting year."
We parted ways—him returning to Lord Garrick's side, me heading back to the Valois suite to wait for Seraphine's return.
But as I walked, I couldn't stop thinking about Liana's whispered words.
We're both trying to survive this game, aren't we?
She knew. The question was: what did she plan to do about it?
POV: Seraphine de Valois
Seraphine endured another thirty minutes of thinly veiled insults and social maneuvering before she could politely excuse herself from Clarisse's gathering. Every moment had been exhausting—maintaining her mask, watching for threats, parsing the subtext beneath every "kind" word.
But she'd learned valuable things:
Lady Clarisse was building a social faction and wanted Seraphine under her influence or eliminated entirely. The truth serum—and Seraphine had recognized it immediately thanks to her training—was meant to make her reveal something compromising in "friendly" conversation.
Liana Hart was far more politically astute than a commoner should be. Her answers were too perfect, too calculated. And the way she'd helped Priam clean up the spill—there had been something strange about that interaction.
The other noble ladies were divided: Some feared Seraphine and kept their distance. Others, like Margot Thorne, seemed genuinely uncomfortable with Clarisse's manipulations but too timid to object. None would be reliable allies.
As she walked back to her dormitory, Seraphine's mind churned through possibilities and strategies. The academy was already dividing into factions—Cedric's group, Clarisse's circle, the military students around Roland, and the outsiders like herself.
She needed allies. Real ones, not just servants following orders.
But who could she trust?
Priam saved me today, she realized. He recognized the threat and acted without being told. That's the second time he's protected me from social disaster.
It was becoming harder to think of him as just a servant. He was intelligent, observant, and apparently developing magical abilities that could make him a valuable asset.
Or a dangerous liability if he decided to betray her.
Trust is a weakness, her father's voice echoed in her mind. Trust no one. Use everyone. Survive alone or don't survive at all.
But her father's philosophy had left him powerful and utterly alone. Was that the life she wanted?
Seraphine reached her suite and found Priam already there, having prepared fresh tea and laid out her evening clothes. He stood when she entered, bowing.
"My lady. I hope the gathering concluded satisfactorily."
"It concluded." She removed her gloves, studying him. "Your 'accident' was very convenient timing."
"I'm clumsy, my lady. You should probably consider replacing me with a more competent servant."
"Don't be ridiculous." She moved to her desk, where he'd left the tea. "You recognized the enchantment on my cup."
"I suspected something was wrong, my lady."
"How? You barely have any magical training."
Priam hesitated. "I... saw something. A shimmer. My newly awakened senses, I suppose."
He's developing magical sight already? That's unusually fast.
"Drink this." She gestured to the tea he'd prepared.
"My lady?"
"If you're trying to poison me, you'd have already done it. But I want to ensure you trust me as much as I'm beginning to trust you. Drink first."
Understanding dawned in his eyes. He picked up the cup and drank without hesitation, then set it down. "It's just tea, my lady. Earl Grey with honey, as you prefer in the evening."
Seraphine watched him for a moment longer, then picked up the second cup and drank. The tea was perfect—the right temperature, the right balance of bitter and sweet.
"Sit," she commanded.
"My lady?"
"Sit. We need to discuss what happened today, and I'm tired of you looming."
Priam sat on the edge of a chair, still maintaining proper servant posture despite the informal command.
"Lady Clarisse is going to be a problem," Seraphine said. "She's building a social power base and sees me as a threat or a potential asset. Today was her attempt to either recruit me or gather information she could use against me."
"I noticed, my lady."
"And Liana Hart." Seraphine's eyes narrowed. "She helped you. Why?"
"I don't know. Perhaps she's genuinely kind?"
"Don't be naive. No one at this academy is genuinely kind without motive." Seraphine paced to the window. "She's hiding something. Her background doesn't make sense, her skills are too refined, and she's gaining powerful allies too quickly."
"What do you think she wants?"
To destroy me. To take my place or eliminate me entirely. I can feel it.
But Seraphine didn't say that. Instead: "Power. Same as everyone else. The question is what she's willing to do to get it."
She turned back to Priam. "Which brings me to your training. If we're going to survive the next three years, I need you stronger. Smart isn't enough—you need to be able to protect yourself and, when necessary, protect me."
"I'm ready to learn, my lady."
"Good. Because tomorrow, after classes, we begin real training. Not just meditation and theory, but practical application." She pulled a book from her shelf—a leather-bound tome with silver clasps. "This contains basic combat spells. Offensive and defensive. You'll study it tonight and be ready to attempt casting tomorrow."
Priam took the book reverently. "My lady, this is... this must be valuable."
"It's a copy of my family's foundational grimoire. If my father knew I was sharing it with a servant, he'd have us both executed." She met his eyes. "So don't make me regret this."
"I won't, my lady."
[Seraphine's Perspective: Priam Loyalty 78/100 (Trusted Ally)]
When did this happen? When did I start caring whether he lived or died?
"One more thing," Seraphine said. "Liana Hart spoke to you during the cleanup. What did she say?"
Priam's expression flickered—surprise, calculation, decision. "She warned me about the truth serum. Said we're both trying to survive the same game."
"She used the word 'game'?"
"Yes, my lady."
Seraphine's blood ran cold. "That's... unusual phrasing."
As if this is all some kind of story or game world. As if she knows something about the nature of reality that others don't.
But that was impossible. Wasn't it?
"Keep watch on her," Seraphine ordered. "If she approaches you again, find out what she knows. Carefully. Don't reveal anything about our arrangement or your training."
"Understood, my lady."
"Now go. Study that grimoire. I expect you to have at least the first three spells memorized by tomorrow."
Priam bowed and left, taking the precious book with him.
Alone again, Seraphine moved to her private study and retrieved her hidden journal—the one protected by blood magic that would kill anyone but her who tried to read it.
She wrote:
Day Two at Crimson Imperial Academy
Enemies: Clarisse (social manipulation), Liana (unknown agenda), Father (as always)
Potential Allies: Priam (growing trust, developing abilities)
Concerns: Liana's knowledge suggests she's more than she appears. Must investigate further.
Plans: Train Priam in combat magic. Build strength before major conflicts arise. Survive.
She paused, pen hovering over the page, then added one final line:
For the first time in years, I'm not entirely alone. Terrifying. But possibly worth the risk.
POV: Priam Lockhart
Back in my cramped servant's cell, I opened Seraphine's grimoire with trembling hands.
The pages were filled with intricate diagrams, magical formulas, and instructions written in elegant script. Each spell was annotated with Seraphine's personal notes—insights about mana efficiency, warnings about potential failures, modifications she'd developed.
She's trusting me with her family's secrets. This is huge.
[System Notification]
[Rare Item Acquired: Valois Family Grimoire (Copy)]
[Learning Speed +50% for spells contained within]
[New Skills Available for Learning]
I flipped through the pages, absorbing information:
Shadow Step: Short-range teleportation through shadows. Useful for escape or surprise attacks.
Blood Shield: Creates a barrier using the caster's own blood. Strength proportional to vitality sacrificed.
Night Vision: Enhances sight in darkness. Basic utility spell.
Phantom Strike: Attack that temporarily phases through physical defenses to hit mana core directly.
Soul Sense: Detects living beings through their life force. Range increases with skill level.
Each spell was classified by difficulty and mana cost. The first three were marked as "Beginner—safe for new practitioners." The last two were marked "Intermediate—risk of mana exhaustion or core damage if cast improperly."
Start with the basics. Master them before attempting anything advanced.
I spent the next three hours studying Shadow Step, memorizing the hand signs, the visualization techniques, the precise way mana needed to flow through specific channels in my body.
Magic, I was learning, was as much mental as physical. You had to believe the spell would work, had to see it in your mind before you could make it reality.
Around midnight, exhausted but satisfied with my progress, I was about to sleep when a soft knock came at my door.
I opened it to find Mira, Edric's young servant, standing in the hallway. Her mousy brown hair was disheveled, and she'd been crying—her eyes were red and puffy.
"Priam?" she whispered. "Can... can I come in? Just for a minute?"
I glanced around—the hallway was empty—and stepped aside to let her in.
She entered and immediately broke down, sobbing quietly. "I'm sorry. I didn't know where else to go. I can't go to the servants' meeting because it's not the right night, and I can't talk to anyone in House Renault because they'll report me, and—"
"Slow down," I said gently, guiding her to sit on my bed. "What happened?"
"Lord Edric," she choked out. "He came back from the tea party in a rage. Something one of the ladies said set him off. He destroyed half his room, and when I tried to clean up..." She pulled back her sleeve to reveal burns on her forearm—angry red welts in the shape of fingers.
He grabbed her while his fire magic was active. Probably didn't even realize he was doing it.
"Have you had those treated?"
"I can't go to the infirmary. They'll ask questions. And if his father finds out Edric lost control again..." Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.
I thought quickly. Seraphine had given me that glamour balm this morning. I pulled out the vial—still half full.
"Here. This will conceal the burns and numb the pain. It won't heal them, but it'll help until you can get proper treatment."
Mira stared at the vial. "That's expensive. I can't—"
"It's a gift. From one servant to another."
She applied the balm with shaking hands, and I watched as the burns faded from view. Not healed, but hidden.
"Thank you," she whispered. "I'll pay you back somehow, I promise."
"No need. Just... be careful. If Edric's getting more volatile, you need to protect yourself."
"I'm trying. But if I make a mistake, if I do anything that makes his father punish him..." She looked at me with hollow eyes. "He takes it out on us. Always."
Edric's father is the real monster here. The son is just a product of abuse, perpetuating the cycle.
"Listen," I said carefully. "At the next servants' gathering, talk to Helena. She mentioned emergency sanctuary for House Renault servants. She can help."
"But if I leave, if I break my bond—"
"You can't help Lord Edric by dying for him. Sometimes the only way to survive is to escape."
Mira nodded slowly, wiping her eyes. "You're different. Everyone says servants can't change anything, can't make things better. But you keep trying."
"Someone has to."
She stood, managing a weak smile. "Thank you, Priam. Really."
After she left, I sat in the darkness of my room, thinking.
This world is broken. The nobles abuse the servants, the strong exploit the weak, and everyone accepts it as normal. In the game, none of this mattered—servants were background characters, barely visible.
But they're people. Real people with real suffering.
[New Quest: "Chains of Service"]
Objective: Help reform servant conditions at the academy
Warning: This quest may conflict with main objectives
Reward: ???
Accept? Y/N
I selected Yes without hesitation.
If I'm going to live in this world, I'm going to try to make it better. Even if it's just in small ways.
My status screen appeared, showing my progress:
Level: 2
Experience: 425/600
Seraphine Loyalty: 35/100
Servants' Network Reputation: 68/100 (Trusted)
Active Quests: 7
I'm getting stronger. Learning magic. Building alliances. But there's still so far to go.
I closed the grimoire and finally allowed myself to sleep, dreams filled with shadows and fire, magic and chains.
Tomorrow, real training would begin.
End of Chapter 4