The gathering took place within the central assembly tent of the Lionheart encampment.
Michael stood among the group with Arianne, Renn, and Uga nearby.
Around them were other young elites of the kingdom.
The prince.
The academy geniuses.
Several noble heirs.
Favored disciples.
Every single one carried status, power, or both.
At the front stood the one addressing them.
An elderly mage.
Robes of deep blue layered with silver inscriptions marked his seniority within the kingdom's magical order.
Yet despite his rank, he did not dare speak arrogantly.
His posture was straight, but his tone remained cautious.
Everyone present stood above him in either status, talent, or backing.
Was it the favored daughter of Duke Evermoon?
Was it the famed trio spoken of throughout the capital, Sir Mic, Sir Renn, and the beast man Uga?
Or was it the prince himself?
Or the academy's most celebrated geniuses?
Any one of them could not be treated lightly.
