CREAK!
From the widening seam poured a tide of light and warmth.
The perfume of incense in the air.
The strings of violins plucking.
The weight of the piano.
Inside it wasn't just a hall, it was a different world.
Marble so polished it caught their reflections.
Chandeliers portraying down like forbidden fruits.
A staircase in-front cascading in waves.
It was a scene....unlike any other.
To the side lined a row of guards.
They stepped back in unison, boots striking once against the marble before scattering.
Tak tak!
It was vast.
For a moment, the students stood still.
The weight of history in the architecture, in the walls, the ceilings....
The eyes of generations pressed down onto them, setting a blaze in their hearts.
A magnificent view.
Tap tap tap
Breaking the hypnotism that bound the others, Jacob strode forward, boots tapping the floor as he passed the veil of excellence.
His strides continued, up the staircase towards a second set of doors, a towering pair engraved with the Crown's sigil.
tap tap ta-
Huff...
Beyond those doors....those behind Jacob knew, what waited was more than chandeliers and music.
It was the eyes of power. The nobles. The throne's gaze.
Postured stood a pair of guards; immovable, plated in ceremonial steel etched with golden veins.
Their helms shone, faceless, as they held halberds crossed until the doors groaned wide.
CREAKKKK!!!
The sound shifted the air as the door revealed the scene hidden.
Inside, nobles lounged across tiers of velvet balconies above and in clusters of circles below.
Silks draped from their shoulders, rings flashing on their raised fingers as jewels shone under the chandelier light.
It was all a show.
Their voices wove like threads engineered by spiders, calculating and connected.
They turned to the sound of the door.
The features of the night had arrived....
Upon seeing the first years the nobles held mixed reactions....
Some stared with thinly veiled disdain upon seeing members at the back, whilst most held sharp interest when it came to the Elite Class.
Their looks measured and weighed them all the same.
A truth that most of the students hadn't known...
This was no just a hall.
It was judgement made manifest.
Among the sea of faces, one drew more weight than others.
Tall, broad-shouldered, hair a burnished gold with grey shades at the temples; his presence alerted someone without a word.
A cloak of deep charcoal draped over his frame, embroidered with the sigil of a beast half-hidden in a shadow.
Lyria's steps faltered.
It was for a brief moment.
Truly.
The mask she always carried cracked slightly, her lips parted ever so....then it was gone.
Her expression smoothed into an impassive one.
Those who noticed her father might have thought the flicker was pride...the faint shadow in her eye said otherwise.
"That's the Lacura boy..."
The whispers even carried in this space of majesty, as some members nearby whispered.
"Even among nobles, talent is nothing without blood."
"The Lacura's are overreaching. We'll see how long he lasts."
In the sea of nobles stood Korreth, his posture recognisable; a frame carrying a soldier's stillness rather than a nobleman's grace.
Seris looked over to him, head turning slow. He gave her a light nod; a quiet acknowledgement, to which she returned.
"To think so many....commoners, would grace this hall."
Standing beside Korreth was Mireya Varn. Tracing the group of students, her eyes landed on her cousin to the right.
'Beautiful'
It was then she noticed Selle standing a little too comfortably near Fayl Kera.
A faint arch lifted from her brow.
Fayl was of noble blood, yes.
But being one of the lesser lines, a branch family at that.
For Selle to drift so casually in his orbit... it was enough to stir disapproval even without words.
Those behind the Elite Class could feel the stares and tension in the air....
Their appearance in this hall was a rare occasion.
Something that more than likely wouldn't happen again.
A cracked bridge was even present here....
-------------
Before the murmurs of glances could grow sharper.
DRUM DRUM!
The sounds of drums and trumpets cut through the hall.
The shift in the atmosphere was immediate.
At the far end of the room on the second floor, a set of double doors creaked open....
The guards stationed around the room postured differently, as the nobles present also straightened up.
"Announcing the Royal Family of Elyndor! His Majesty, King Azarel Elyndor! Her Highness, Princess Sephira Elyndor! And His Highness, Prince Samuel Elyndor!", a herald yelled, his voice thundering the air, each name called like a royal decree.
The air seemed to tighten at the announcements.
Everyone's attention spun to the sounds of footfall above, each step shimmering the ground....as if those walking owned the very floor.
Jacob's eyes looked up, his expression was blank.
He hated events like this.
All those whispers and looks like age meant something in the grand scheme.
'....A bunch of old bugs claiming to matter.'
Royalty?
He didn't care.
Strength was the only right to rule.
Not inheritance.
Not names.
That's exactly why his golden eyes shone cold gazing upwards.
'A king.....'