The new semester arrived on a tide of crisp autumn air and chattering new students. The academy, still bearing the faint scars of the Anomaly attack, thrummed with renewed energy. And I, Leo, Master of Time and Janitor of the East Wing, continued my sacred duty of polishing the brass plaques.
It was during this hallowed task that the buzz began. A royal convoy had been sighted approaching Aethelgard. Not just any royalty, but the Silver-Tongued Songbird of the neighboring kingdom of Veridia, Princess Seraphina herself. She was to be a "special student," a diplomatic gesture to strengthen ties between the kingdoms.
I paid the gossip little mind. Royals were just louder, more expensive versions of Derek, with better-tailored robes. They were another variable to manage, another set of eyes to avoid.
I was wrong.
Her entrance into the Academy was, as expected, a spectacle. The carriage was white gold, drawn by griffins. Her guards wore polished silver armor that gleamed even under the overcast sky. And she herself… she was the centerpiece.
Princess Seraphina had hair the color of spun sunlight and eyes like amethysts. She carried herself with an innate grace, but it wasn't the haughty stride of a noble. It was the poised, observant glide of a predator. Or a scholar. Perhaps both.
As she descended from her carriage, her gaze, sharp and intelligent, swept across the welcoming committee of professors and senior students. It didn't linger on Magus Theron's formal bow, or on Derek's attempt to look regal and imposing. It passed over them and, for a fleeting second, landed on me.
I was on a ladder, cleaning a high window. Our eyes met.
It wasn't a glance of curiosity at a lowly servant. It was a look of assessment. Calculation. Her eyes, those piercing violet pools, narrowed just a fraction, as if she were trying to solve a puzzle she hadn't expected to find.
Then the moment was over. She smiled warmly at Headmaster Valerius, and the procession moved inside.
I felt a familiar, yet unwelcome, sensation: interest. This one was different.
The days that followed confirmed it. Princess Seraphina was not content to be a decorative piece. She attended advanced lectures, asked probing questions that flustered professors, and displayed a formidable talent for water and light magic. But more notably, she was… everywhere.
I would be mopping a secluded corridor in the library, and she would be there, "casually" browsing shelves nearby. I'd be cleaning the practice yards at dawn, and she'd be taking a "morning stroll." Her eyes were always subtly tracking me.
Professor Alaric noticed it too. I saw the silent panic in his eyes during one of our rare, wordless encounters in the hall. He was terrified that her royal curiosity would stumble upon the world-ending secret he was desperately trying to ignore.
The confrontation I had half-expected came on a rainy afternoon. I was in the Royal Archives annex—a place even dustier than the main library, and thus, my sanctuary. I was realigning the chronological order of some historical scrolls that a careless student had disordered. A satisfying, if mundane, use of my powers.
"I must say," a melodic voice cut through the silence. "You are remarkably literate for a janitor."
I didn't jump. I had felt her presence the moment she entered the annex. I finished placing the last scroll in its correct century before turning.
Princess Seraphina stood there, leaning against a bookshelf, a small, knowing smile on her lips. She was alone, without her usual retinue.
"Your Highness," I said, giving a slight, unpolished bow. "I just tidy up. Can't read a word of it."
"Can't you?" she asked, her eyes gliding to the perfectly organized scrolls. "It seems you have an intuitive grasp of order. Chronological order, to be precise."
I maintained my vacant expression. "Just putting the old ones together and the new ones together. Seems logical."
She took a step closer, her gaze intense. "Logic. Yes. It was very logical how the East Wing was the only part of the academy completely untouched by the Anomalies. A statistical impossibility, my tutors tell me. A miracle of luck."
"Luck is a strange thing, Your Highness."
"Indeed." She circled me slowly, like a cat. "And then there is Professor Alaric. A man renowned for his intellect and obsession with temporal mechanics. Suddenly, he becomes intensely interested in the academy's cleaning schedule. He looks at you not with disdain, but with... fear. A man of science, afraid of a null. Another curious logic."
I said nothing. I just watched her.
"You see," she continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "I am not here just to learn magic. I am here to form alliances. To find assets. To understand the true powers in this world. And you, Leo the Janitor, are the most illogical, and therefore the most interesting, power I have yet encountered."
She stopped in front of me. "My proposition is simple. An alliance. Not as princess and subject, but as two... logical individuals."
I finally spoke, my voice flat. "I mop floors."
"You stop time," she countered, her voice utterly sure.
The annex fell silent, save for the patter of rain against the window. She had said it. Not as a question, but as a statement of fact.
I could have denied it. I could have erased her memory. But the sheer audacity of her approach was… refreshing. Alaric had stumbled upon the truth through terrified deduction. Seraphina had pieced it together through pure, ruthless observation.
"Why?" I asked simply.
"Because my kingdom is not as secure as it appears," she said, all pretense dropping. "There are factions, ancient powers stirring. The Anomaly attack was not an isolated incident. It was a symptom. When the storm comes, I would rather stand next to the unshakable mountain than be swept away with the rest."
She was offering me a different kind of cover. Not anonymity, but a sanctioned, hidden role as a royal asset. It was a dangerous game. But a part of me, the part that was bored of mopping and petty pranks, was intrigued.
"I am content with my mop," I said, a non-answer.
Her smile returned, sharper this time. "Of course. But even a mop can be a powerful tool in the right hands. Think on it. The offer stands."
She turned to leave, then paused at the doorway. "Oh, and Leo? The crown prince of Luthadel is visiting next week. He's a boor, and his father has expansionist ambitions. It would be… logical… if his stay were fraught with a series of unfortunate, yet hilariously embarrassing, coincidences."
She left, her final words hanging in the dusty air.
I looked down at the mop in my hands, then out at the rainy courtyard. A princess knew my secret. And she wanted to be my business partner.
A slow smile spread across my face. This was becoming more complicated. And much, much more interesting. Perhaps it was time to see what kind of "unfortunate coincidences" could befall a visiting crown prince.
After all, I had all the time in the world to arrange them.