Mistral Royal Academy

Adrian stood before the gates of Mistral Royal Academy, their intricate ironwork curling into mesmerizing patterns that caught the soft afternoon light. The gates, already wide open, carried an air of welcome that felt more like formality than warmth. Still as overdone as ever, he thought, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

The path beyond stretched ahead in a perfect line of cobblestones, flanked by manicured hedges and trees that looked like they’d been plucked from a painting. The main building loomed at the end of the path, its spires reaching into the sky like gilded needles. The gold tips gleamed in the sunlight, a display of power that felt less impressive and more like a reminder of who belonged here. Adrian’s gaze lingered briefly before a sudden warmth on his shoulder pulled him back to the present.

“Are you feeling alright?” Selena asked, her hand resting lightly on him.

Adrian glanced at her, forcing a faint smile. “I’m fine. I just… I wish Marcus and Anisa could’ve come to see me off.”

Selena’s expression softened, her hand lingering for a moment. “You know they wanted to, but that guild quest came up out of nowhere. It wasn’t their choice.”

Adrian’s shoulders sagged slightly as he looked down at the cobblestones beneath his feet. “I know. I don’t blame them. It’s just… I miss them.”

Selena gave a faint smile, then ruffled his hair with a teasing touch that drew an annoyed glare from him. “Stop sulking. You’ve got an entrance exam to pass first, remember? Save the reunions for later.”

“Yeah, focus on the now. Got it.”

But as the words left his mouth, a sudden thought struck him like lightning. His heart skipped a beat, panic surging in its place. “Wait!” He spun toward Selena, his voice rising. “I forgot Lysander’s recommendation letter!”

His hands darted to his pouch, fingers fumbling as he rifled through it. The more he searched, the more frantic he became. How could I forget something that important?

Selena sighed, arms crossing as she watched him with exasperation. “Relax, Adrian. I brought it with me.”

Adrian froze mid-search, blinking up at her in disbelief. “You… you did?”

Selena pulled an elegantly folded parchment from her satchel, the wax seal of the Whitewynn crest gleaming in the sunlight. “Of course. But seriously, you’ve got to stop losing track of things like this. It’s your responsibility.”

Adrian took the letter with both hands. “Thanks, Selena. I mean it. You’re the best.”

She tapped him lightly on the forehead with her finger. “Don’t get used to it. If you make it into the academy, I won’t be around to bail you out.”

Adrian slipped the letter into his pouch, this time double-checking that it was secure. “I promise I’ll do better.”

The two walked through the gates together, Adrian’s gaze drifting over the sprawling gardens, the meticulously carved statues of scholars and warriors lining the path, and the towering silhouette of the main building. It was as pristine and ostentatious as he remembered. Nothing much has changed since the last time I was here.

“Excited?” Selena asked.

“Yeah, I think so.” Adrian said, chuckling slightly.

“Good. Just remember, you’ve got this. The entrance exam isn’t about being perfect. It’s about showing them who you are and what you’re capable of.”

“Thanks, Selena. I’ll do my best.”

Adrian exhaled slowly, his nerves still buzzing beneath the surface. He turned to Selena, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. “Thanks for everything,” he said, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her in a quick but heartfelt hug. She stiffened slightly, caught off guard, but relaxed almost immediately, her arms resting lightly around his shoulders.

“Don’t get too sentimental on me, Adrian,” Selena teased, her voice warm despite her words. She pulled back, her hands settling on his shoulders. “I believe in you."

Adrian nodded, stepping back and squaring his shoulders as he looked toward the gates once more. “I’ll see you later,” he said, glancing over his shoulder one last time before walking forward.

When Adrian passed through the gates, his gaze swept across the courtyard. Students gathered in clusters, their polished uniforms gleaming in the afternoon light, their animated chatter weaving a tapestry of sound around him.

Adrian’s eyes locked onto the spires of the main building. Lysander said the administration building was to the right of that path. He was almost certain of it, but double-checking wouldn’t hurt. Better safe than sorry.

He approached a group of students nearby, their poised demeanor and crisp uniforms marking them as nobles. Clearing his throat, Adrian spoke with calm confidence. “Excuse me. I need to register for the entrance exam. The administration building is down that path, right?”

One of the students turned to face him, a blond-haired boy with an air of practiced politeness. “That’s correct,” he replied, gesturing down the right-hand path. “The administration building is the large one with the stone archway at the entrance.”

Adrian nodded in thanks, but the boy’s smile lingered as his gaze swept over Adrian’s attire. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “By the way, which noble house do you hail from?”

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“I’m not from a noble house.” Adrian said.

The boy’s smile stiffened, the warmth draining from his expression. He turned back to his group, muttering something that sparked quiet chuckles from his companions.

Adrian caught a snippet, something about “commoners”, and decided to let it roll off him. He had expected this. The academy’s reputation for catering to the elite wasn’t lost on him, and he had already resolved not to let the barbs of arrogance weigh him down. Still, he wasn’t one to leave a remark unanswered.

“Funny,” Adrian said, “I don’t remember needing a family crest to pass the entrance exam. Guess we’ll see if bloodlines mean much when we’re all taking the same test.”

The blond boy froze mid-laugh, his companions now chuckling, not at Adrian, but at him. “Good one,” one of the boys said through a grin, nudging the blond boy lightly on the shoulder.

Adrian didn’t wait for a response. He turned on his heel, and walked toward the path without looking back. The distant echoes of laughter followed him, but he paid them no mind. I should just focus on what matters.

The spires of the administration building came into clearer view as he approached. The grand stone archway stood exactly where he expected, its intricate carvings bearing the academy’s emblem. Adrian adjusted his pouch as he walked, his grip firm on its strap. This should be correct.

The grounds around the building were bustling with activity, and Adrian’s attention was drawn to the sheer variety of people. Elves with their sharp, elegant features conversed in melodic tones. Dwarves, stocky and stout, stood in small groups. Beastkin, some with fox tails, others with feline ears or scaled skin, moved about, their unique traits blending seamlessly into the diverse tapestry of students.

Adrian caught himself staring, his curiosity momentarily overriding his nerves. There can be much for me to learn if I get into the academy proper. I'm very much curious as to what the elves, dwarves, and beastkin are actually like here.

Shaking off the thought, he approached the doors and stepped inside. The interior was just as grand as the exterior, with high ceilings, polished stone floors, and intricate chandeliers casting soft light across the room. A line of students snaked toward a reception desk at the far end, each person clutching papers or scrolls. Adrian joined the line, brushing the pouch at his side with a finger to ensure the recommendation letter was still there.

Minutes ticked by as the line shuffled forward. Adrian took the opportunity to observe the others around him. Some were clearly from noble backgrounds, their postures straight and their clothing adorned with subtle embellishments. Others, like him, wore simpler attire, though their expressions betrayed varying levels of confidence or apprehension. I’m not the only one who’s nervous. That’s something, at least.

When it was finally his turn, Adrian stepped up to the polished oak desk, his boots clicking softly against the marble floor. The receptionist glanced up at him, her sharp features framed by a curtain of neatly tied gray hair. Her glasses perched on the bridge of her nose caught the light, and her piercing gaze studied him over the rims.

“Name?” she asked briskly, her pen hovering above a ledger.

“Adrian, … just Adrian.”

Her pen hesitated mid-air, and she raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. “No family name?”

“No, ma’am,” Adrian said, meeting her gaze evenly. Why do they always make it sound like a crime?

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she continued, her tone neutral. “Do you have a recommendation letter?”

“Yes,” Adrian answered, reaching into his pouch. He withdrew the letter with deliberate care, the weight of the wax seal a reminder of how important it was. He held it out to her, steady despite the faint stir of nerves in his chest.

The receptionist’s sharp nails clicked against the parchment as she took it. She broke the seal with a practiced motion and unfolded the letter. Her eyes darted across the elegant script, a flicker of surprise breaking through her otherwise professional facade.

Adrian caught the brief shift in her expression before it disappeared, replaced by a detached efficiency. Guess even Lysander’s name can still raise an eyebrow here.

She set the letter aside and pulled a blank form from a neatly stacked pile, her pen scratching quickly across the page. The sound filled the brief silence between them, and Adrian stood motionless, watching her with guarded curiosity.

After what felt like minutes but was likely seconds, she slid a small slip of paper across the desk. A bold black “8” was printed in the center. “Here, this is your registration number. Take it with you to the waiting room.”

Adrian took the paper, gripping it firmly as though it might slip away. “Where’s the waiting room?” he asked, glancing up from the number.

“Straight down the hall,” she replied, pointing toward a corridor on the left. “It’s the third door on the right. Wait there until your number is called.”

“Thank you,” he said with a small nod, turning toward the hallway she indicated.

The corridor stretched out ahead, its walls lined with portraits of past scholars, their solemn faces watching him as though silently judging. Ornate lanterns cast a soft golden glow over the space, their light playing off the polished floor. Adrian walked briskly. Third door on the right.

When he reached the door, he pushed it open and stepped inside. The waiting room was already buzzing with life—students clutching slips of paper, their murmured conversations rising and falling like waves. Some lounged in their seats, others sat ramrod straight, their eyes darting nervously toward the numbered slips in their hands.

Adrian scanned the room quickly, spotting an empty seat near the wall. He walked over and sat down, leaning back slightly as he surveyed the room. The air felt thick with anticipation, an unspoken tension lingering beneath the hum of voices.

No point in worrying about them. They’re all here for the same thing. He tightened his grip on his slip of paper, the number “8” staring back at him. It’s just a number. What matters is what comes after it.

His gaze drifted to the others—some whispering in hushed tones, others laughing as though they hadn’t a care in the world. Adrian exhaled slowly, steadying himself. He settled into his seat, letting the noise of the room fade into the background as he waited for his turn.

He noticed how the students naturally gravitated toward one another, forming small, distinct groups. Adrian couldn’t help but notice the lines drawn between the groups. They didn’t mingle much, each cluster keeping to their own. So much for this place being a melting pot. He scanned the room again, his chest tightening slightly as he realized something else: he was the only one sitting alone.

The realization gnawed at him, and his fingers tightened around the number in his hand. He glanced at the nearest cluster, humans chatting with ease. It seems the noble children mostly keep to themselves, how unfortunate, but not unexpected.

Adrian leaned back in his seat, fighting the urge to sigh aloud. His eyes drifted to the number in his hand again, the black ink now smudged slightly from the warmth of his grip. He tried to focus on the task ahead, but the weight of solitude pressed against him. But admittedly, It would be annoying if I don't have any friends here at the academy.

Before he could spiral further into the thought, a hand clapped firmly against his back. Adrian stiffened, startled, and turned to see who had touched him.