His hair was neatly combed, as if each strand were not a mere growth from his scalp, but a layer of metal meticulously placed with precision. His eyes were sharp and deep, yet devoid of any expression a child could comprehend. He did not look at me, even when he spoke, as though my presence at this table was nothing more than a formality. Yet somehow, I knew that beneath the coldness of his demeanor, there lay feelings he had buried deep within—a form of love he had never been taught to express.
On his left sat a woman who stood in stark contrast in every way—gentle, serene, and captivating. Seraphina Eclavien, my mother. She hailed from one of the ancient families known for their grace. Her silver hair cascaded down to her waist, reflecting the morning light like strands of moonlight. Every movement she made, no matter how small, exuded the natural grace that only a woman raised in a palace could possess. Her smile was faint, her eyes warm, yet full of mystery—like a calm sea hiding the turbulence of a powerful current beneath.
On the Duke's right sat Lara Arvandir, my older sister. Though only eighteen, she had inherited the same aura of authority from our father. Her silver hair, flowing gently, was the only feature she shared with our mother; the rest of her was a reflection of Renard, but in female form—sharp, cold, and incredibly efficient. Her gaze pierced like a knife, as if she could peel away lies with a single glance. Lara did not need to say much to command the room—her mere presence was enough.
And finally, sitting beside me, was Caelum Arvandir, my eldest brother and the rightful heir to House Arvandir. At the age of twenty, he had led armies in three major battles and returned without a single wound. His build was strong, his proportions perfect—not from training, but from destiny itself. Caelum embodied the glory of our family: brave, calm, and charismatic. He did not speak much, but every word he uttered carried more weight than the commands of any general.
"And what about you?" Father's voice was deep and calm, almost like a murmur from a throne. He did not look at me, only staring ahead as though speaking to an empty chair.
"I'm fine," I replied, trying to sound calm, though my tone betrayed me—like a child trying to imitate adulthood. "Today... I'm going to the academy."
Father was silent for a moment, then added, "Don't make House Arvandir look disgraceful."
I nodded. There was nothing to argue about. That was the world of the nobility: it was never enough to be merely good—you had to be perfect.
Lara glanced at me from the corner of her eye. "Cheer up," she said, her tone cold but... honest.
I took a deep breath, then asked softly, "What's the academy... like?"
Caelum, without turning, answered flatly, "You'll know later."
After breakfast, I returned to my room. I shed my night clothes and donned my formal uniform— a long coat with a small black star-shaped emblem on the chest, symbolizing a new student yet to be tested. A small suitcase had already been prepared by the servants, filled with supplies, books, and a few personal items. It didn't take long. Everything was ready, as always, prepared by the hands of others.
As I stepped out of the main door of the house, the morning sunlight greeted me gently. The Arvandir family garden stretched wide, with flowers tended to more carefully than those in a royal palace. The maids stood in line, watering the plants with forced smiles on their faces. They knew, today was my day—the day when the youngest son of the great family would leave his home.
In the distance, the large gates, towering like a fortress, slowly opened. A black horse-drawn carriage stopped right in front. One of the maids approached me calmly, took my suitcase from my hands, and placed it inside. I entered the cabin, and the soft sound of the carriage wheels began to echo—then the journey began.
Inside the carriage, I spoke with one of the old servants who had once been my private tutor. He explained a little about the academy—a place that supposedly applied the principle of equality. Nobles and commoners sat in the same seats, ate the same food, and received the same lessons.
To me, that... felt strange. My entire life, social status had been the cornerstone of this world. But in that academy, the walls of caste seemed to be erased—at least on the surface.
"The academy... is a place you can't judge just by the stories, Young Master," he said with a faint smile. "And perhaps, it is there that you will truly learn... how to be an Arvandir."