The capital never slept, not truly.
By day, its streets bustled with merchants, soldiers, and commoners weaving through avenues wide enough for legions to march. By night, the city burned with another kind of fire—feasts in candlelit halls, whispers behind velvet curtains, and daggers hidden in shadows.
It was there, in the mansions of power, that Lucian's name spread like wildfire.
The Crownless Wolf.
Ranked ninth. A feat none had predicted, none had dared to imagine for a boy once branded worthless. To the common man, it was a story of triumph. To the nobility, it was something far more dangerous.
It was disruption.
The Council of Snakes
The House of Renard convened in a chamber carved from red marble, the walls engraved with hunting wolves devouring stags. At the head of the long table sat Duke Renard, his hair silver, his eyes sharp as razors.
"Explain to me," the duke said softly, though his voice carried the weight of thunder, "how the runt of Ardelion managed to shame my son and claw his way into the top ten."
Calvus Renard, face pale, shifted in his chair. "It was trickery, Father. He exploits loopholes, twists rules, refuses honorable combat. He's—"
"A wolf without a pack," the duke finished. His gaze turned toward the gathered lords and vassals. "Yet somehow, this wolf hunts where ours stumble. Do not insult me by pretending this is mere chance."
Murmurs rose. Some spoke of spies, others of hidden mentors. One baron suggested that Lucian had made a pact with dark forces.
The duke silenced them with a gesture. "Regardless, the boy's existence threatens the balance. If the Ardelion name rises again, it will upset decades of careful work. I will not allow it."
He turned his gaze back to his son. "Calvus, you will face him again. And this time, you will not fail."
Calvus clenched his fists, shame burning his cheeks. "Yes, Father."
The House of Veynar
In a manor draped in banners of obsidian and silver, Lord Malrik Veynar swirled wine in his goblet. His smile never reached his eyes as he listened to the report.
"Ardelion has survived assassination," the spymaster murmured. "He thrives under pressure. Even the prince's visit to the academy did not shake him."
"Mm." Malrik sipped his wine. "Then he is worth watching."
The spymaster hesitated. "Do you wish him… removed?"
Malrik's eyes glinted like blades in the dark. "Not yet. Wolves are most dangerous when cornered. Better to let him grow teeth, so that when we break him, the message echoes louder."
He raised his glass, whispering as though to himself. "Besides, sometimes a wolf flushes out larger prey."
The Academy Whispers
Within the academy walls, Lucian felt the ripples long before they reached him. Nobles who once ignored him now watched with thin smiles and veiled contempt. Others approached with false courtesy, speaking of "alliances" while their eyes betrayed hunger.
Kael laughed at it all, tossing a coin in the air as they walked through the courtyard. "You'd think you won the throne already, the way they circle you."
"They smell disruption," Lucian replied calmly. His gaze flicked across the students lingering at the edges, whispering behind hands. "Disruption draws scavengers. And predators."
Seren walked on his other side, arms folded. "They'll test you, piece by piece. Some will bait you into duels. Others will scheme in shadows. They won't rest until you're caged—or dead."
Lucian's lips curved faintly. "Good. A wolf is sharpest when hunted."
Seren shot him a sharp look. "One day that confidence will be the end of you."
"Or the crown of me," he murmured.
The Web Tightens
That night, Lucian sat in his dormitory, parchment spread before him, ink staining his fingers. He drew lines between names, houses, and whispered motives.
Renard → humiliated, vengeful, reckless.
Veynar → watching, waiting, dangerous.
Prince Darius → looming. A storm yet to break.
Seren → loyal, but vulnerable. Protect.
Kael → unpredictable, sharp, possibly too sharp.
He tapped the quill against the parchment. Threads of fate stretched around him, invisible but unyielding. He had once been caught in this web, strangled before he realized its shape.
This time, he would be the spider.
The Invitation
Two days later, an ornate envelope arrived, sealed with wax bearing the sigil of the royal house: a lion wreathed in flame.
Lucian broke the seal, eyes scanning the elegant script.
You are cordially invited to a private gathering hosted by His Highness, Crown Prince Darius, within the academy's Grand Hall. Attendance is not optional.
Lucian folded the letter slowly. His reflection shimmered in the wax seal, distorted by the flicker of candlelight.
Seren's voice was quiet behind him. "The prince is watching you."
Lucian's smile was faint, cold. "Then it seems the game begins."
The Prince's Shadow
That evening, Lucian walked through the academy gates into the Grand Hall. Chandeliers glowed like captive suns, music floated on the air, and nobles clustered in silken knots, their laughter sharp as knives.
The prince stood at the center, golden-haired, eyes like molten fire. His gaze cut through the hall, landing on Lucian the moment he entered.
For a heartbeat, the room seemed to hold its breath.
Then Crown Prince Darius smiled, slow and deliberate.
"Ah. The Crownless Wolf."
The hall whispered.
Lucian bowed, perfectly measured. "Your Highness."
Darius studied him with the curiosity of a lion regarding prey. "I have heard much of you. They say you fight like a man who has nothing to lose."
Lucian met his gaze, unflinching. "On the contrary. I fight as one who intends to keep what others would take."
A ripple ran through the nobles. Some stifled laughter. Others gasped at the audacity.
Darius' smile sharpened. "Then perhaps, Ardelion, we should see whose claws are sharper."
Lucian inclined his head slightly. "If that is your will, Your Highness."
The hall erupted into murmurs. A duel had been declared—not in words, but in inevitability.
And so the wolf was drawn into the lion's gaze.
Lucian returned to his quarters that night, the faintest smirk lingering on his lips.
They plot. They circle. They conspire. But all they have done is reveal themselves to me.
He dipped his quill once more, writing a single line across the parchment:
The throne itself has noticed me.
The firelight danced across his face, glinting in his eyes.
And in the silence of the night, the Crownless Wolf whispered:
"Let them come."