Rumors of victory from the Dragon's Tail border outpost spread rapidly throughout the empire. The name Caelen von Vaelith, which had barely appeared on the aristocratic stage for fifteen years, was now the subject of conversation at banquet tables across the capital.
The combination of Wind Magic and Fire Magic he had demonstrated in the mining valley succeeded in silencing House Sterling's doubts. The incident also erased rumors about the legitimacy of his bloodline among the outer nobility.
In the public eye, Caelen was now known as a combination of the Duke's tactical decisiveness and the Duchess's magical ability. The story of the heir who had been hidden all this time no longer sounded like mere fairy tale.
Several months after the border incident, a white-feathered magical pigeon landed on the window of the main castle tower. The mechanical bird carried a parchment scroll tied with a golden silk ribbon.
The scroll was sealed with the empire's twin-dragon emblem—an official acceptance letter from the Royal Magic Academy, where noble children and talented mages from across the country gathered.
For Caelen, the letter marked the beginning of the real chapter. His time hiding behind the protection of the northern territory was over.
In his room, warmed by the fireplace, Caelen stood before a large mirror. Today, he was leaving for the capital. The reflection in the mirror showed a fifteen-year-old young man who looked nothing like the little boy who had once learned to walk across a fur carpet.
His messy dark-blue hair fell over part of his forehead, framing a pair of calm yet sharp golden eyes. He wore House Vaelith's formal attire, prepared especially for this day: a black silk shirt, a dark vest, and matching formal trousers.
A long deep midnight-blue cloak was fastened over his shoulders, shifting gently with his movements.
The most striking part of his appearance was the silver skull-shaped brooch on his left shoulder, complete with a silver chain and a sea-blue gemstone at its center.
This ornament was not merely decoration. It was a symbol of military authority that could be worn only by the main bloodline of House Vaelith. As he looked at his own reflection, Caelen no longer saw any trace of hesitation.
He had fully merged with his identity as Caelen von Vaelith. The authority radiating from him was enough to make the servants lower their heads whenever he passed.
Before leaving, Caelen went to Grand Duke Vaelith's study to say goodbye. The room was quiet, filled only by the slow crackling of wood burning in the fireplace.
The Grand Duke stood with his back to his desk, gazing out the window at the blanket of snow covering the northern territory. Hearing Caelen's footsteps, he turned around.
The Duke looked over the formal attire his son was wearing. Pride shone in his eyes, though his war-scarred face still tried to remain impassive.
"You look remarkably like the founding ancestor of this clan, Caelen," said the Grand Duke.
He walked to his desk and placed a political map of the empire covered in symbols representing noble factions upon it.
"The capital is far more dangerous than an open battlefield on the border," he continued, his tone turning serious. "At the Academy, you will not be dealing only with people like Damian Sterling, who are easy to pressure."
"You will face the Emperor's factions that are always watching us, princes who covet the throne, and the elders of the central magic tower. They will search for the slightest opening to undermine House Vaelith's influence," said the Duke.
Caelen approached the desk and scanned the faction names on the map. He assembled a mitigation strategy in his head.
"I understand, Father," Caelen replied calmly. "The rival factions will certainly consider me an easy target because this is my first appearance in the capital."
The Grand Duke nodded in satisfaction at the answer. He stepped forward and placed a hand on Caelen's shoulder.
"Remember your secret training over the past five years. Your Dark Magic is this family's secret and ace card. Never use it at the Academy unless you are certain there will be no witnesses left alive to tell the tale," the Duke said quietly.
"I understand, Father. My Fire Magic and Wind Magic are enough to deal with anyone looking for trouble with House Vaelith," Caelen replied with a faint smile.
After the conversation ended, Caelen headed to the main hall. The Duchess was already waiting there, anxious in a winter gown.
Beside her, Sir Keith stood in full silver armor, overseeing the preparations for departure. When he saw Caelen approaching in his formal cloak, the Duchess's eyes immediately filled with tears.
She hurried forward and embraced her adopted son tightly, disregarding noble etiquette. The scent of lavender that usually clung to her clothes enveloped Caelen's senses.
Caelen felt the sincerity of that embrace, and his memories returned to ten years ago, when he had lain feverish and this woman had wept for fear of losing him.
This affection was the main reason he was willing to play this role to protect his family. He gently returned his mother's embrace.
"Caelen... my clever boy," the Duchess whispered, her voice trembling as she held back tears. She released him, then cupped Caelen's cheeks in both hands.
"The capital is unfamiliar, full of two-faced people. The weather is not as friendly as it is here, either, and the politics are filthy. Take good care of yourself, Cael," said the Duchess as she kissed Caelen's forehead.
She took a silver wolf-fur scarf from a servant's tray and wrapped it around Caelen's neck to keep him warm during the journey.
Caelen clasped his mother's hands and looked into her eyes with the small smile he showed only to her.
"You do not need to worry, Mother. Cael will take care of himself. I promise I will bring home the best results from the Academy," Caelen said sincerely.
Hearing that, the Duchess finally smiled through her tears. The anxiety that had plagued her since the invitation arrived now began to ease.
Outside the castle gates, a carriage engraved with House Vaelith's silver wolf emblem stood ready on the snowy road, drawn by four black-furred magical horses.
Sir Keith opened the carriage door with a respectful bow. His loyalty now belonged entirely to the golden-eyed young man before him.
"The logistical and security preparations are complete, Young Master. The party is ready to depart," reported Sir Keith.
Caelen turned back one last time. The Grand Duke and Duchess stood side by side on the castle steps, waving.
Caelen returned their farewell with a firm nod, then climbed into the carriage and entered the compartment warmed by thermal magic.
The door closed. Caelen sat on the velvet seat, watching through the window as the castle where he had grown up for more than a decade slowly receded into the distance.
The magical horses began to run, cutting through the snow toward the south, toward the center of the empire, a place filled with luxury, intrigue, and conspiracies.
Caelen leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes as the carriage rocked gently. His years of growing up in the northern territory had ended on a solid foundation.
With his identity as the heir to House Vaelith now perfectly ingrained, he was ready to enter the Royal Magic Academy, face every intrigue that came his way, and forge his own path in this new world.