The air in the Grand Corridor tasted of damp ash and centuries of decay. Victor Thorne walked with measured precision, his leather shoes clicking sharply against the cracked obsidian floorboards. He wore an impeccably tailored midnight-blue suit, a stark, commanding contrast to a world of robes and armor.
Seraphina walked exactly half a pace behind him. She wore sharp, dark business attire and carried a silver clipboard. She was a disgraced, exiled Dark Elf, but to Victor, she was his highly competent Head of Operations.
"The structural integrity of the East Wing is compromised, Principal Thorne," Seraphina said coldly, her violet eyes scanning the leaking stone ceiling. "It is currently falling apart, deeply in debt to the Iron Bank, and filled with rebellious, violent students."
Before Victor could respond to the financial ruin, the massive oak doors at the end of the corridor exploded outward. Splinters of ancient wood shrapnel rained across the stone floor, kicking up a thick cloud of dust.
Stepping through the smoke and localized hellfire was Princess Ignis. She was the rebellious Princess of the Demon Realm. Her crimson hair whipped around her obsidian horns like a living flame, and a jagged, glowing broadsword rested casually on her shoulder.
"So, the new Principal is a weak human in strange clothes?" Ignis sneered, her voice echoing with dark, suffocating magic. "The last one locked himself in a vault. I give you three minutes before you start begging for your life."
Victor didn't draw a weapon. He didn't even raise his voice. His jaw tightened, the leather of his gloves creaking as he pulled a golden pocket watch from his vest.
"Seraphina," Victor said softly, the suffocating silence of the corridor amplifying his words. "What is the replacement cost of a twelfth-century enchanted oak door?"