The carriage ride from the Solaran Royal Palace to the Royal Academy felt less like a journey and more like a transition between worlds. Just days after the grim departure of the Eldorian envoy, Queen Elara had summoned Kael, Prince Arion, and Princess Seraphina. Her eyes, though still filled with sorrow for Lyra, held a steely resolve. "The palace can offer protection," she had stated, her voice firm, "but the academy will forge you into the leaders and warriors the coming storm demands."
The academy itself was an imposing sight. Nestled into a series of rolling hills, its spires of grey and white stone reached towards the sky, grander and more ancient than any structure Kael had seen outside of Zuna's own royal palace. Arcane symbols were subtly carved into the very architecture, glowing faintly in the sunlight, hinting at the magic contained within its formidable walls.
Upon their arrival, they were greeted by Headmaster Thorne, a tall, unsmiling man with piercing blue eyes and an air of quiet authority. He offered a curt, formal welcome, his gaze lingering on Kael with a flicker of something unreadable – pity, perhaps, or assessment. "Prince Kael, Prince Arion, Princess Seraphina. Welcome. Your rooms have been prepared."
They were led down long, torch-lit corridors to their assigned quarters. Kael found himself in a modest but comfortable room, spacious enough for his sparse belongings. Aether, his wyrmling companion, immediately explored every corner, sniffing at the old stone, before settling onto Kael's bed, its dark scales a stark contrast to the pale linen. Arion's room was adjacent, a boisterous collection of hastily unpacked gear, while Seraphina's was across the hall, already exuding a more organized, serene aura.
Later that afternoon, during a mandatory orientation in the grand assembly hall, Kael got his first real glimpse of academy life. Hundreds of students filled the tiered benches – young nobles in impeccably tailored tunics, and commoners whose intense focus betrayed raw talent. They exchanged curious whispers as Kael, Arion, and Seraphina entered, their gazes drawn to Kael, the exiled prince, and his unusual wyrmling. Some students offered cautious smiles, others were openly curious, while a few eyed them with thinly veiled suspicion, already aware of the recent diplomatic turmoil.
The professors were then introduced, a diverse group ranging from burly combat masters whose scarred hands spoke of countless battles, to ethereal mages whose eyes seemed to hold the secrets of the universe. Each carried an air of deep knowledge in their respective fields: elemental combat, arcane history, defensive wards, political strategy, and more.
As the Headmaster droned on about regulations and schedules, Kael's gaze drifted across the professorial ranks. Near the back, almost unassuming, stood an old woman with a gentle, weathered face and a cascade of silver hair. Her eyes, however, were anything but gentle; they were sharp, intelligent, and seemed to miss nothing. This was Professor Aerion, the renowned expert in ancient lore and the delicate, often mysterious, field of magical creature bonds. She met Kael's eye briefly, offering a small, knowing smile that made Kael's skin prickle. He had a feeling their paths would soon intertwine in ways he couldn't yet imagine.
The day ended with the promise of arduous training and difficult lessons. Kael found a quiet corner in his room, Aether curled protectively beside him.