The voice had come from behind him, and Klarion turned to see who had spoken. Standing a few steps back at the edge of the seating for the middle nobility, hands clasped neatly behind his back, was a young man with the look of someone who was too confident for his own good.
The grin on his face turned a bit sheepish as he raised a hand in a gesture of apology. “Ah, my excitement got the better of me,” he said smoothly, his tone light. “It’s not every day one gets to meet someone who causes such a stir before classes even begin. Allow me to correct myself — welcome to the Imperial Academy, Lord Blacksword.” He dipped his head slightly, the movement subtle yet respectful, as if to acknowledge the gravity of Klarion’s rank, or at least the House he came from, without overdoing it. “I trust you will forgive my earlier lapse in decorum.” His smile returned, sharper this time, as he waited.
Completely caught off guard, Klarion froze for a long moment. He cursed the fact he was still lacking in experience interacting with nobility. Deciding to take the out offered, Klarion gave a short nod, his expression as calm as he could keep it as he replied, “No offense taken. I appreciate the welcome.” He kept as neutral a tone as possible, while still being polite. Inside, his thoughts continued to churn. He wished he had received even a fraction of the training in courtly decorum that most noble scions attending the Imperial Academy likely had. Navigating even this interaction felt a little like walking on the edge of a blade — one wrong step and he could offend or reveal his inexperience. No, until he was able to deal with this weakness, the best thing to do would be to take his cues from others and simply try to be as polite as possible. Crap. “I’m sorry for being rude. Your name is...?”
“No apologies necessary, I can tell I inadvertently startled you,” the stranger continued, his expression still polite. “Allow me to introduce myself. Hector Draven, scion of House Draven, a viscountcy, at your service.” He gave a shallow bow.
Klarion studied him with a measured gaze. Hector was dressed impeccably, his uniform tailored much like his own had been to reflect perfection. The crest of the viscountcy sat at each shoulder — an intricate design of crossed blades encircled by a coiled serpent. His dark hair was neatly combed over a symmetrical face of almost classical handsomeness like what Klarion had seen in old museums when he was younger. But it was Hector’s eyes that drew Klarion’s attention the most. At odds with the polite, almost welcoming introduction he had extended, to Klarion his eyes were a sharp, calculating grey, flickering with an intelligence that seemed to assess and weigh every detail about their surroundings — and Klarion.
“It’s nice to meet you, Lord Draven,” Hector’s eyes seemed to sharpen, and Klarion knew at once he had made a mistake somehow, “but if you wouldn’t mind…?”
“That display at the Altar of the Foresworn was… memorable,” Hector said, not taking Klarion’s hint. “I doubt anyone here will forget it anytime soon.”
Unwillingly, Klarion’s face grew tight. He didn’t particularly want to discuss the bizarre and unsettling events of the ceremony, much less with a stranger. “It is not something I care to dwell on,” he replied curtly. Maybe being a bit short would get Hector to leave him alone. “I assume you are here talking to me for a reason?”
Hector’s smile widened slightly as though he had expected the brusque response. “Straight to the point. I like that.” He leaned closer, his voice going lower but still keeping a slight smile on his face. “I am here for a reason, yes. Let’s just say your… unique outcome piqued my interest. For many of us in the nobility, the flames bring about slight changes. Some few, usually in the higher ranking Houses, see more. But very rarely is someone as changed as you were. ”
Klarion’s eyes narrowed. “And?”
“And,” Hector responded smoothly, “I’m curious. You’ve already caught the attention of nearly every noble student, especially your rivals in the other Archducal Houses, whether you like it or not. I simply approached you first.”
“Let me guess,” Klarion said after Hector ceased speaking, perhaps hoping to gauge Klarion’s reaction. “You’re here to make me some kind of offer, aren’t you?”
Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
Hector’s laugh was soft, almost conspiratorial. “Not quite. I’m not foolish enough to approach someone like you with an offer before I understand what it is you truly want. But I will admit I see your potential — potential that, if nurtured correctly, might benefit us both.”
“Us?” Klarion echoed, folding his arms across his chest. “You don’t even know me.”
“True,” Hector admitted, “but I’ve always been pretty good at reading people. It’s a skill I’ve honed out of necessity.” His gaze roamed over Klarion, lingering on his scars, almost like he was memorizing every detail that he could see. “You are not exactly what I expected from a scion of House Blacksword,” he remarked, his tone intrigued. “From what my family’s tutors taught me, scions of your family are generally stern and commanding in presence. Since I have no reason to doubt them — my family paid quite well for their highly recommended services — I would say you are almost out of place, even. The fact you did not correct me on calling you anything but your first name and even addressed me as ‘Lord Draven’ despite all scions being of equal rank so long as we are officially students, tells me you have very little idea about the specifics of the Imperial Academy.”
Once again, Klarion fought to keep his expression neutral, masking the annoyance bubbling beneath the surface. So he had messed up with how he had addressed Hector. He shifted awkwardly on his feet until he realized Hector was watching him even closer. Klarion stopped moving all at once. Damn. He had hoped to fade into the background after the ceremony, especially in the wake of how the Vice-Chancellor had disappeared. While he knew he would have to eventually get to know other members of the nobility, he had hoped for a little more time to adjust to being here. But perhaps that was too much to ask. All he could do was try to salvage the situation.
“I wasn’t trying to make an impression,” Klarion said lamely. It was the best he could come up with, as there was no way he was going to tell a stranger about any part of his background.
Hector’s smile grew bigger, almost as if he didn’t believe a word of what Klarion was saying. “Whether you intended it or not, Klarion, you’ve captured quite a bit of attention. The question is, how do you plan to handle it?”
“I doubt anyone will care that much over the next few days as classes begin,” Klarion replied. “I’m sure most will move on to something else soon enough.”
“Perhaps,” Hector responded, but his voice carried more than a hint of doubt. “But I wouldn’t count on it. This is the Imperial Academy, after all. Ambition is the lifeblood of this place. Even our non-noble classmates will be filled with it. The more exceptional you appear, the more people will want to align with you. Or tear you down.”
Klarion red-gold eyes met Hector’s gaze, “And which are you?” he asked quietly. “Someone looking to align with me, or someone waiting for the right moment to tear me down?”
Hector chuckled, the sound low and unhurried. “Once again your directness is a breath of fresh air,” he said. “But I assure you, I’m not looking to be your enemy. Quite the opposite, in fact. Like I said, I think you have potential and I think a working relationship might help us both. What do you say?”
“I’ll think about it,” Klarion said finally, though he was not sure yet what it was that he might be considering to agree to.
Hector inclined his head, as though he had expected that response. “Of course. Take all the time you need. We’ll be seeing more of each other in classes, I’m sure.”
With that, he turned on his heel and began to walk away, his footsteps echoing softly in the now-empty amphitheater. Apparently, while Klarion had been absorbed in the conversation, the rest of the scions, even those of the other Archducal Houses, had already stepped outside.
Klarion watched him go, his mind racing. His first day on campus had already been far more eventful than he could have hoped for, and this encounter with Hector only drove home how much uncertainty he had to look forward to.
He stepped out of the House Blacksword seating to follow Hector outside. He couldn’t shake the sense that the encounter he had just had was more significant than it appeared. Hector’s sharp gaze and calculating demeanor, even if covered by a welcoming smile, left Klarion wary of manipulation. He replayed Hector’s words in his head, considering whether they were a subtle way to provoke him or if they were truly an attempt at an olive branch. Regardless of which one was true, the fact remained that Hector had already made clear to him one of the things he had been previously worrying about since his time with Alesin and Rolfun: that he did not fit the mold of what others expected for a scion of House Blacksword.
While part of him wanted to figure out what the more typical Blacksword scion was like, that he might adopt a similar persona to stand out less, the other, greater part admitted he would likely not be able to do that for long. If he could even pass in the first place. He never had been a very good actor, and his friends had always been able to tell when he was lying. No, he would still try to keep his head down, but he also didn’t think he would be able to play at being someone he was not.
He reached the entrance he had come in through and, with no one else in the way, made his way outside for the rest of the orientation events.