It was almost noon when Alden heard a knock at his room. He had been in a deep sleep since morning, the softness of his new bed having lured him into the most peaceful rest he'd had in years. Still groggy, eyes half-lidded, he dragged himself to the door and opened it slowly. Standing outside was the same guide who had escorted him to his dormitory earlier that morning.
"Good afternoon," the guide greeted with a smile, handing over a small box. "This has been issued to all new students. Also, make sure you're present in the mess hall before two. There will be a welcome discussion led by your warden."
Without waiting for a reply, the guide turned and walked away. Alden, still half-asleep, closed the door and brought the box inside. Curious, he opened it and was immediately stunned. Inside was an Aether Band and two sleek lenses.
He had only heard about these in stories. Aether Bands were expensive—elite devices that combined advanced technology and magic, used by powerful soldiers and nobles. And yet, here one was, lying in his hands. He slipped the band onto his wrist, and as soon as he did, a translucent screen popped up in front of him.
"Scanning in progress..."
After a few seconds, the screen flickered and stabilized.
"Good afternoon, Alden. I am your personal Aether Band. If you wish to keep the interface private and hidden from others, please wear the lenses provided."
So that was the purpose of the lenses. Alden quickly wore them, and immediately, a screen appeared directly within his vision. It was more fluid now, following the motion of his head instead of floating stationary in space. He moved his head left and right, marveling at how the interface moved with him.
He began exploring. There were several options on the band: Communication, Inventory, Information. He clicked on Inventory. To his amazement, digital slots filled with categorized items popped up. There were books aligned with his academic curriculum, and clothes neatly sorted into uniforms, casuals, and training gear.
He switched to the Information tab and saw a message already waiting. He tapped it.
"All students are hereby informed that they are to wear only the clothing provided by the Academy. Personal attire is not permitted on campus."
Returning to Inventory, he selected one set of casual clothes and transferred the rest to his room's wardrobe. The outfit materialized neatly in the room's wardrobe with a soft shimmer of light. He retrieved it and examined the fabric. Sleek, black, and beautifully stitched, it looked like something a noble would wear. Still in awe, he changed quickly and headed for the mess.
Even inside the elevator, he could hear the low hum of dozens of conversations. As he stepped into the mess hall, the noise washed over him like a tide. Dozens of students were gathered in groups, chatting animatedly over plates of extravagant food. Most seemed to be sitting in tight-knit clusters, likely grouped by their regions.
A few glanced at Alden as he entered, but no one paid him much attention. He scanned the room and spotted only one familiar face—Lysa Dawnridge. She sat alone in the corner, quietly eating.
He grabbed a plate and walked to the buffet. The variety was overwhelming—foods he had never seen in his life, their colors vibrant and presentation impeccable. He carefully filled his plate with a balanced mix of meat, sweets, and a drink, then walked toward Lysa.
"Hello," he greeted gently.
Lysa looked up at him, said nothing, and returned to her meal.
Before Alden could say anything more, a friendly hand clapped him on the back. "Aren't you Alden? From Bloodridge?"
Alden turned. "Yes, I am."
"Great! I'm Avan. We're from the same region. We should stick together. Everyone else already seems to have formed their groups."
Alden gave an awkward smile. "I was just trying to see if she—" he nodded toward Lysa, "wanted company."
"Don't worry about her. She's always quiet like that. I know her from before. Come, sit with us."
Alden followed Avan to a nearby table. They sat and began chatting about their hometowns and the entrance exams. After a short while, Veydan joined them too, offering a slight smile and greeting.
The conversation was pleasant, filled with nervous excitement and curiosity about the academy.
Suddenly, the entire mess hall fell silent.
All heads turned toward a single point near the entrance. Alden followed their gaze and saw him—Vorian Ironhold, the fourth prince of the Ironhold Kingdom and sixth in line to the throne. Dressed impeccably, Vorian walked with quiet confidence, acknowledging a few respectful bows with the faintest nod.
The moment passed, and soon after, the warden arrived.
With a booming voice that echoed across the room, he commanded immediate attention. "Good afternoon, everyone. Welcome to the Royal Academy of Ironhold. You are the best of your regions, handpicked from thousands. This is the most prestigious institution in the entire kingdom."
He paused, letting his words sink in.
"Here, titles mean nothing. Nobles, commoners, even royalty will be treated equally."
His gaze briefly rested on Alden, then shifted across the room.
"You were admitted because of your capability, not your bloodline. This building is reserved for first-years only. All resources you may need are provided: a mess that runs day and night, an armory, training grounds, and even private training chambers in the basement."
He took a breath before continuing.
"Remember, equality is our core value. However, excellence is rewarded. Special perks await the top performers. So push yourselves, and earn it. That is all."
With that, the warden turned and left, and the chatter resumed.
Alden sat still, letting the weight of those words settle in his heart. This was more than just a school. It was a new world, and he was determined to rise through it—not for fame, not for glory, but for the promise he had made to himself and the legacy of the man who raised him.