The crowd parted like a wound opening, voices swelling in panic and irritation. Mavis pushed up on her toes, trying to see over taller students, Jerry tightening around her collar in mild alarm.
In the center of the commotion stood an Ipse noble—his clothes sharp, angled, and expensive enough that even the breeze hesitated to touch them. His hair was slicked back, an obsidian sheen under the morning sun. A gold-trimmed cloak rested over his shoulders like a proclamation of superiority.
He was snarling.
"Do you imbeciles in the lower ranks have NO spatial awareness? Look at this—LOOK AT IT!" he shrieked, clutching the fabric of his sleeve like it had been dipped in manure.
But all the commoner boy had done was tap his shoulder and hand him a plate a vendor dropped.
The boy stood stiff, shoulders squared, face unreadable. No fear, no anger—just a mask of absolute stillness. His dark-brown eyes were empty, like he had long ago learned that reacting never helped.
Beside the shrieking noble stood his friend, a tall young man with broad shoulders and an immaculate posture. His dark black hair fell neatly around a chiseled face, eyes sharp and brown like polished oak. His clothes fit perfectly—too perfectly—screaming wealth, martial training, and power.
This was Lord Cassian Arclight, future duke of the Fides Kingdom and one of the continent's most promising magic swordsmen.
To everyone else, he looked regal—calm, composed, benevolent.
To Mavis, he looked like a viper in a tailored coat.
Alya whispered beside her, "That's him. Cassian is one of the strongest noble heirs here. Loyal, powerful, intimidating—total swine."
Cassian did nothing as his friend yelled. Not a word. Not a gesture. Not even a frown. He just stood there, radiating cold indifference.
The Ipse noble's voice climbed higher.
"You filthy, dirt-covered, uneducated, farm-raised hea—"
"Enough."
The single word came like a blade.
Clear.
Cold.
Commanding.
The crowd fell silent.
A girl stepped forward.
No—not just a girl.
A presence.
Tall and graceful, with long brown hair that rippled like silk in the morning light. Her hazel eyes glowed with a warm gold undertone—soft, beautiful, but carrying the steel of someone who had been raised with war on her doorstep.
Her uniform was tailored to perfection—deep navy-blue trimmed with crimson, the colors of the Fides royal family. A small crest rested at her collar: a lion, shield, and sword entwined.
This was Princess Seraphina Valehart—First Princess of Fides.
Stoic. Impeccable. Radiant.
She radiated an aura that demanded obedience, yet something in her expression carried the warmth of a sunbeam disguised in armor.
"Viscount Renley," she said evenly, voice like polished steel. "This unsightly behavior at an entrance exam disgraces not only yourself, but your kingdom."
The Ipse noble froze, the blood draining from his face.
The commoner boy—who had been unflinching up to this point—blinked, startled by someone finally stepping in for him.
Seraphina's gaze shifted, cool and precise, landing on the tall man beside the noble—on Cassian.
"Lord Arclight," she said. "I assume you witnessed this?"
Cassian stiffened.
A crack appeared in his perfect facade.
Only for a heartbeat.
But Mavis saw it.
He recovered instantly, placing a hand over his chest in a knight's respectful gesture.
"Of course, Your Highness," he replied smoothly. "I agree completely. Such behavior should be corrected."
Seraphina didn't even blink.
She turned away with the grace of a falling snowflake, her hair brushing against her uniform. The crowd parted instinctively as she walked—commanding, elegant, the embodiment of royal expectation.
And Mavis… couldn't look away.
Not even for a second.
Cassian's expression shifted the moment Seraphina's back was turned.
Gone was the polite agreement.
In its place—
A venomous glare shot at the Ipse noble.
Viscount Renley swallowed hard and looked away.
Alya elbowed Mavis lightly. "Well. That was dramatic."
Mavis tore her eyes away from Seraphina's retreating figure. "Who was that?"
"Princess Seraphina Valehart," Alya whispered. "The heir to the Fides throne. Strongest magic swordswoman of her generation. Stoic as ice. Beautiful, obviously."
Mavis nodded faintly. "Very beautiful."
"Unapproachable, too," Alya added.
Mavis said nothing.
Her eyes drifted back to the commoner boy—silent, unreadable—but he was already looking at her. Their eyes met for the briefest moment, something sharp and observant flickering across his face, as if memorizing her before she could blink.
And then the instructor shouted:
"NUMBERS 201 THROUGH 300—ASSEMBLE!"
The crowd broke apart like a wave hitting stone.
Students scrambled for their groups.
Alya tugged Mavis' sleeve. "Come on! We're up!"
But Mavis' gaze slipped toward where Seraphina had vanished into the crowd—
the echo of her voice still ringing in her ears,
the warmth of fascination settling in her chest.