The main auditorium of the academy was rarely full.
Today, it overflowed.
Every seat on the marble steps had been claimed. The nobles filled the front sections, their uniforms pristine, their voices low. The outer rings, higher up and to the flanks, buzzed with students from every House and region. Dozens of professors lined the edges, murmuring among themselves.
The banners of the academy fluttered along the vaulted walls—mana-stitched fabric shimmering in blue and silver.
Noel entered quietly.
He didn't wear anything special.
"Front row was full," he said with a grin. "Shame."
"Would've been a tragedy," Noel muttered as he sat beside him.
They didn't speak further.
The energy in the room was shifting. Focused with the anticipation before a real fight.
A hush fell as a figure walked onto the stage.
He was tall, composed, dressed in a deep gray professor's robe with silver trim. His hair was black, neatly combed, and his face held a calm, diplomatic smile.
