Chapter 268: First Time?

But as Roan looked at Seraphina, the crushing weight of his past grief suddenly crystallized into something new.

It forged itself into a blinding, diamond-hard spike of resolve.

He had lost Cecil.

He had let her slip through his fingers into the dark, and he had spent a lifetime paying the price.

’Never again,’ Roan vowed, the power of the Supreme Archmage flaring silently in his veins, vibrating with a promise that resonated across the leylines of the earth. ’I lost one light to the shadows. I will burn the fabric of reality to ash before I lose this one. If the Capital tries to break her, if someone tries to stifle her, if someone even looks in her direction... I will unleash a cataclysm that will make the demonic wars look like a children’s tea party.’

He tightened his arm around her, pressing his cheek against the top of her head.

"I’ve got you, baby squirrel," Roan whispered into the quiet carriage. "The Archduke may be your shield, but the Obsidian Network is your sword. We are going to make this Academy our playground."

Seraphina didn’t answer with her usual snark.

She just let out a tiny, exhausted sigh, snuggling deeper into his charcoal suit, seeking the safety of his warmth.

****

The Imperial Academy of Magic and Governance was not merely a school. It was a monument to aristocratic vanity and institutionalised elitism.

Located on a massive, floating plateau connected to the Capital by a series of glowing, rune-carved bridges, the Academy resembled a small city.

Towering spires of white marble and blue crystal pierced the clouds. Massive courtyards were filled with ancient, enchanted oak trees and bubbling fountains of liquid mana.

It was beautiful, pretentious, and currently swarming with the worst demographic in the known world: highly privileged, magically armed pre-teens.

The Academy operated on a unique, highly competitive seasonal semester system.

Students could enroll twice a year, in the Spring, which was considered the ’traditional’ intake for the highest-ranking nobles, and in the Summer, which was often used for transfer students, newly recognised heirs, and provincial latecomers.

Seraphina’s expedited, emergency enrollment fell perfectly into the Summer intake schedule. Today was the official orientation and welcoming ceremony for the new Summer crop of freshmen.

The carriage rolled smoothly across the glowing bridge, coming to a halt in the grand, circular driveway of the primary administration building.

The doors opened.

Roan stepped out first.

He had completely restored his flawless aesthetic. His suit was brushed clean of wrinkles, his silver-wire glasses were perched perfectly on his nose, and his raven hair was slicked back with intimidating professionalism.

He looked like an incredibly expensive, academic asset.

He turned and offered his hand.

Seraphina stepped out of the carriage.

She wore the custom, midnight-black blazer and pleated skirt.

The violet silk tie was knotted perfectly at her throat. The outfit was immaculate. The silk lining gave the fabric a subtle, heavy, and commanding drape.

But the Sovereign of the North, the tiny mafia boss who had brought the terrifying Reaper to his knees and launched an underground syndicate with burnt cookies... was completely absent.

Seraphina’s shoulders were slumped.

Her head was bowed, her dark hair hiding her eyes.

She didn’t march down the carriage steps; she shuffled. Her small hands were clutching the straps of a highly enchanted, ridiculously expensive leather satchel Kaelus had bought her.

She looked small and fragile, exactly like a six-year-old girl who had just been separated from the only parent she had ever known.

Roan’s heart executed a painful backflip inside his chest.

’Where is the swagger?’ Roan panicked internally, his protective instincts screaming. ’Where is the terrifying eye-roll? Where is the condescending smirk that makes grown men weep? Oh, by the stars, the Archduke actually broke her. She is genuinely depressed.’

"Alright, Boss," Roan said, keeping his voice light and encouraging, gently resting his hand on her shoulder to guide her through the bustling crowds of screaming, excited noble children and their weeping, waving parents. "The first objective is the grand assembly hall. We go in, listen to an impossibly boring speech by the Headmaster, and then we locate the cafeteria to assess their pastry logistics."

"Okay," Seraphina mumbled, her voice flat and devoid of enthusiasm. She didn’t look up. She just stared at her own boots as she walked.

Roan felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead. ’Okay?’ he echoed in his mind, horrified. ’She just said ’okay’? Didn’t she demand an immediate audit of the dessert buffet? She didn’t threaten to feed the Headmaster to a shadow-duck? This is a medical emergency. I need to deploy emergency sugar.’

They entered the vaulted grand foyer of the administration building.

The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfumes, polished wood, and the chaotic, buzzing energy of hundreds of children showing off minor cantrips to each other.

A harried, middle-aged administrative official with a glowing clipboard intercepted them.

"Ah! Professor Roan Charte! The visiting lecturer for Advanced Spatial Theory! Welcome, welcome!" the official babbled, looking incredibly stressed by the volume of aristocratic demands surrounding him. "Your quarters in the faculty wing have been prepared. You are scheduled for a faculty briefing in ten minutes in the East Spire."

The official then looked down at Seraphina.

He checked his glowing clipboard, tapping it with a crystal stylus.

"And this must be the Lady Seraphina von Nacht. Summer Intake, Tier-1 Water Core. Excellent. The freshman assembly is convening in the Grand Atrium. Lady Seraphina, you must proceed through the archway to your left. Parents and guardians are strictly prohibited beyond this point. The Academy enforces immediate integration!"

Roan stopped.

He looked at the official.

He looked at the archway leading to the Grand Atrium, where hundreds of loud, snobby, glittering noble brats were shoving each other and laughing.

He looked down at Seraphina, who was currently staring at a crack in the marble floor, looking entirely lost and miserable.

The Supreme Archmage of the East, a man who regularly defied emperors and danced with demons, suddenly suffered a complete, catastrophic failure of professional detachment.

"Prohibited?" Roan repeated, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous whisper. He didn’t move his hand from Seraphina’s shoulder. His fingers actually tightened slightly on the fabric of her blazer.

"Y-Yes, Professor," the official stammered, intimidated by the sudden, freezing intensity in the handsome scholar’s pitch-black eyes. "It is Academy policy. To foster independence."

’Independence?’ Roan’s inner helicopter-uncle shrieked. ’She is six years old and clinically depressed! I am not throwing her into a pit of feral aristocratic little hyenas by herself! What if they mock her uniform? What if they ask about her father? What if she needs a hug?! I cannot leave her! I refuse! I will fold space and merge the faculty wing with the freshman atrium!’

"I believe," Roan stated coldly, adjusting his glasses with his free hand, projecting an aura of a terrifying academic authority, "that an exception can be made for a visiting lecturer of my caliber. I shall escort my ward to her seat."

"P-Professor, the Headmaster is very strict!" the official whimpered, holding his clipboard up defensively. "If you cross the ward line, the alarms will sound!"

Seraphina finally looked up.

She saw the panicked official, and the terrifying, dark energy swirling behind Roan’s glasses. She realized that the incredibly powerful trickster was currently having a completely embarrassing separation-anxiety meltdown in the middle of the foyer.

’He’s acting like a parent dropping their kid off at kindergarten for the first time,’ Seraphina thought, a tiny spark of amusement finally breaking through the heavy, suffocating gray fog of her sadness. ’He’s going to vaporize the entire registrar department because they won’t let him hold my hand.’

She reached up and gently tugged on the sleeve of his charcoal suit.

"It’s okay, Professor," Seraphina said, her voice still quiet, but lacking the terrifying emptiness of a few moments ago. "I can go in and find a seat by myself. You should go to your meeting. Also, tell the other teachers I always like my tests graded with blue ink, not red."

Roan looked down at her.

He saw the tiny spark of life in her dark eyes.

He let out a long, heavy, defeated sigh.

He dropped to one knee right in the middle of the crowded, bustling foyer, ignoring the stares of passing Dukes and Countesses.