The morning of the Enrollment Ceremony at the Aethelgard Imperial Academy was a spectacle of gold and steel. Carriage after carriage, bearing the crests of the highest nobility, rolled through the obsidian gates.
But all talk ceased when the Imperial Carriage, carved from white ash and pulled by six snow-white horses, came into view.
"Look! It's the Crown Prince!"
"He looks so pale... is he even able to walk?"
"Shh! If the Emperor hears you, your whole family will be executed!"
Lucian stepped out of the carriage, leaning heavily on the arm of a personal attendant. He moved with a practiced, shaky grace, his breath coming in short, shallow puffs.
Behind him, the Emperor stepped out, his handsome face fixed in a mask of "gentle" concern, though his aura was like a sharpened sword, warning everyone to keep their distance.
"Lucian, my star," the Emperor whispered, adjusting the fur collar around the boy's neck. "If you feel even a hint of a chill, we leave. The Academy can be rebuilt next year. Your health cannot."
"I am... fine, Father," Lucian said, his voice barely a whisper. He gave a small, brave smile that made every noblewoman in the crowd want to weep.
As they approached the grand hall, five figures stood waiting at the entrance. They did not bow like the others; they stood with the pride of those who held the four corners of the world.
To Lucian's left, Kaelen of House Kaelen stood like a statue of ice. His grey eyes were fixed on Lucian's throat, his hand twitching toward the hilt of his sword. He looked ready to slay the wind itself for blowing too hard against the Prince.
To the right, Aurellia of House Aurellia adjusted his gold-embroidered sleeves, his eyes roaming over Lucian's frame like a jeweler appraising a priceless gem. He looked hungry.
In the center, Selene of House Selene held a leather-bound book, his spectacles reflecting the morning sun. He wasn't looking at the Emperor. He was looking at Lucian's eyes, searching for the secrets he knew were hidden there.
And in the high rafters of the hall, invisible to all but Lucian and his father, the Morvane brothers crouched like ravens, their dark obsession radiating through the shadows.
Lucian stumbled, just a tiny bit.
Before his father could react, five different shadows moved. Kaelen reached for his waist, Aurellia stepped forward to catch his hand, and the atmosphere in the courtyard turned electric with sudden, violent jealousy.
Lucian lowered his head, hiding the cold, calculating glint in his eyes.
Let the hunt begin.
---
The tension in the courtyard was thick enough to draw blood. As Lucian's knees buckled slightly, the air itself seemed to vibrate with the sudden movement of five different powers.
The Emperor's eyes flashed with a terrifying draconic light, his hand already halfway to his sword, but he stopped when he saw the wall of bodies that had instantly formed around his son.
Kaelen "The Winter Wolf" was the first to arrive. He was a blur of silver-grey, his large, calloused hand gripping Lucian's upper arm with a strength that was meant to be steadying but felt like an iron shackle.
His grey eyes were frantic, scanning Lucian's face for any sign of impending death.
"Back away," Kaelen growled, not to the Prince, but to the crowd. His voice was like grinding stones. "You are all suffocating him. Give the Prince air!"
"Oh, unhand him, you brute," a smooth, melodic voice interrupted. Aurellia of House Solis stepped forward, smelling of expensive amber and rare spices.
He didn't just help; he draped a cloak of shimmering golden silk—worth more than a commoner's village—over Lucian's shoulders. "Your touch is like sandpaper on a diamond, Kaelen. Move."
Aurellia's hand lingered on Lucian's shoulder, his thumb stroking the fabric near the Prince's neck. His obsession was visible in the way he stared at Lucian's lips, his eyes dilated with a dark, materialistic hunger.
"My Prince," Aurellia whispered, leaning close enough that only Lucian could hear. "I've had the Academy's infirmary replaced with silk sheets and imported herbs just for you. You needn't suffer in this dreary place."
Lucian leaned into Aurellia's touch, playing the part of the exhausted flower, but his mind was sharp. Aurellia just admitted to bribing the Academy staff before the first bell even rang. Useful.
Standing a few feet back, Selene of House Lunaris pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. He didn't rush in like the others.
Instead, he watched the way Lucian's pupils dilated. He noticed that while Lucian's body was "trembling," his pulse—visible at the base of his throat—was steady. Calm.
Interesting, Selene thought, his intellectual obsession peaking. A prince who faints but whose heart does not race. What are you hiding, little dragon?
From the high balcony above the entrance, a flicker of movement signaled the presence of the Morvane twins. The Elder, the Executioner, had his hand on a dagger, his eyes locked on Kaelen's hand.
He wanted to sever the limb that dared touch the Prince's "purity." The Younger, the Ghost, was already gone, likely slipping through the vents to ensure Lucian's dormitory was "clean" of any potential threats.
The Emperor, Maximillian, stepped forward. The sheer weight of his presence forced the Dukes to retract their hands, though their eyes remained glued to the Lucian.
"That is enough," the Emperor said. His voice was gentle, but the ground beneath the Dukes cracked slightly under the pressure of his aura. "My son is here to study, not to be a prize in your tug-of-war.
If I see a single bruise on him—even a shadow of a mark—I will personally visit your father's estates with my legions. Am I understood?"
"Perfectly, Your Imperial Majesty," they chorused, though their eyes said otherwise.
As the ceremony ended, the students moved toward the Grand Lecture Hall.
Lucian was assigned a seat in the very front—a plush, customized chair provided by House Aurellia.
To his left sat Kaelen, who had positioned himself as a literal human shield between Lucian and the rest of the class. To his right was Selene, who had already opened a rare manuscript to share. Behind him, the aura of the Morvane brothers was a cold chill at his back.
During the lecture on Imperial History and Dragon Lineage, the professor mentioned the "extinction" of the dragons. Lucian let out a small, dainty cough into his handkerchief.
"Is the air too dry, Your Highness?" Selene asked immediately, his hand reaching out to touch Lucian's forehead. "You look flushed."
"I... I am fine, Lord Selene," Lucian whispered, his diamond-blue eyes watery and wide. "It is just... a bit overwhelming."
In reality, Lucian was suppressing a laugh. He felt the Dragon Blood in his veins pulsing in rhythm with the five men surrounding him. He could feel their hearts—beating fast, filled with a sickening, sweet obsession.
They are so easy to read, Lucian thought as he tucked his blood-stained handkerchief away. Five wolves, all thinking they've caught a lamb. They have no idea that the cage they're building for me is actually the throne I'll use to rule them.
---
The first night at the Aethelgard Imperial Academy was anything but peaceful. While the rest of the student body celebrated their enrollment with wine and music in the common halls, the East Wing—reserved exclusively for the Crown Prince—was a tomb of silent, suffocating tension.
Lucian sat on the edge of his bed, the moonlight filtering through the enchanted glass, casting silver streaks across his blonde hair. He had already dismissed his attendants, claiming he needed "absolute silence" for his fragile nerves.
The room was cold. Suddenly, the temperature dropped another few degrees.
"You've been hovering in the rafters for three hours," Lucian said, his voice no longer weak or breathless. It was sharp, like a glass blade. "Either come down and speak, or leave. I don't like the smell of crow feathers in my bedroom."
From the darkest corner of the ceiling, a shadow detached itself. It didn't fall; it glided, landing soundlessly on the plush carpet.
It was the younger Morvane brother—Vane "The Ghost." Unlike his elder brother, who was broad and intimidating, Vane was lithe, his movements almost liquid. His eyes were dark, hidden behind a mess of jet-black hair, and he wore a suit of matte leather that absorbed the light.
"Your Highness noticed me," Vane whispered. His voice was a raspy crawl, filled with a terrifying devotion. He didn't stand; he knelt at Lucian's feet, his hands hovering just inches from the hem of Lucian's nightgown. "I should have known. The dragon sees all."
"What do you want, Vane?" Lucian asked, tilting his head. He looked down at the boy who was feared by the entire Western Province as a phantom assassin.
"The others... they are loud," Vane hissed, his fingers finally twitching to touch the silk of Lucian's bedsheets. "Kaelen stands outside your door like a mangy dog. Aurellia has sent three cartloads of gold to the headmaster to 'renovate' your floor. Selene is in the archives, looking for your medical records."
Vane looked up, his eyes wide and bloodshot with a manic intensity. "But I am the only one who truly watches you, My Prince. I saw you kill that spider in the carriage today. You didn't crush it. You burned it with a flick of your finger. You are not weak."
Lucian reached out, his slender, "fragile" fingers lifting Vane's chin. The Prince's diamond-blue eyes glowed with a faint, predatory gold.
"And what will you do with that information, little crow?" Lucian asked, a dangerous smile tugging at his lips. "Will you tell your father? Will you tell the Council?"
"No," Vane gasped, his breath hitching in ecstasy at the Prince's touch. "I want to be your shadow. I want to be the knife you hide in your sleeve. Let the others be your shield and your treasury. Let me be your monster."
The next morning, the Academy's central plaza was filled with the sound of clashing steel. The "Combat and Aura" class was mandatory for all noble sons.
Lucian sat under a shaded canopy, a fur rug over his lap, sipping tea. His father, the Emperor, had sent a "Small" escort of twenty Imperial Knights just to stand behind his chair.
"Prince Lucian," a booming voice called out.
It was a Marquis's son—a tall, arrogant boy named Lord Brandon. He wanted to make a name for himself by "accidentally" challenging the weak Prince. "Surely the future Emperor isn't just going to watch? Even a simple sparring match would honor us."
Kaelen "The Winter Wolf" stepped forward before Lucian could even put down his teacup. Kaelen's aura exploded, a blizzard of white mana that cracked the stone tiles beneath his boots.
"You wish to spar with the Sun?" Kaelen's voice was a low growl. He didn't draw his sword; he simply grabbed the Marquis's son by the throat and lifted him off the ground. "You are not even worthy to breathe the dust his shadow touches."
"Kaelen, stop," Lucian called out, his voice sounding thin and exhausted. "You'll... you'll cause a scene."
Kaelen froze. The obsessive, terrifying warrior immediately softened, dropping the boy like trash and turning to Lucian with a look of pained loyalty. "He insulted you, My Prince. I cannot allow it."
"It is fine," Lucian whispered, coughing into his hand. "My heart... it's racing too fast. Please, just stay by my side."
Kaelen practically vibrated with the need to protect, moving to stand so close to Lucian that their shoulders touched. He glared at everyone else, his hand never leaving his blade.
Behind his tea, Lucian watched the humiliated Lord Brandon. One down, Lucian thought. I've just made the Northern Duke's heir my personal executioner, and I didn't even have to stand up.