During the free period, the hundred or so first-years broke into their separate groups to enjoy the hour reprieve before their next class of the day—History. Many were still buzzing from the disturbance caused in both the Combat and Alchemy classes. "That damn woman," Braydon cursed, cleaning out his ear with a finger, "I can still feel ringing in my ear," he complained to his group of lackeys as they traversed the halls. Randolph was beside him, looking rather downcast. Usually he would just echo the boys sentiments, but it was clear that something was wrong. "What’s your problem?" Braydon asked, showing some annoyance. "I... I lost the medicines my father gave to me." He replied bitterly. "Those phials? You’re really still hung up on that?" Braydon scoffed, "Isn’t only a few medicines? Your family can easily afford another batch." The guy spoke as if the situation had nothing to do with him, conveniently forgetting the fact that he was the one who urged Randolph to continue with the bet. Of course he had also lost a storage ring, but this seemed irrelevant. "Still, I would have thought Jakob could have beat a lowly commoner..." he added, "Jakob, what the hell even happened back there?" However, when he turned the guy was nowhere to be seen. "Huh? Where did he go?" "I think he said something about needing the bathroom." One of the other lackeys replied. "Well when he comes back, we need to have a proper discussion. I will not accept anymore losses against that blond bastard who claims to be Melody’s fiance..." he spoke, his face morphing into one of resentment. Randolph still seemed out of sorts, his eyes glued to the ground. "Do we really need to provoke him? Something about him seems a little weird." "Huh? What are you talking about?" Braydon asked, placing a firm hand on the curly-haired teen’s shoulder. There was a noticeable tension in his voice. "Did you forget that Melody is the niece of the king?" he asked, his fingers digging into the guys shoulder. "Do you not see the ice-blue hair atop her head? The mark of the Ancient mages?" At the mention of Ancient mages, the group shifted in trepidation. "I thought that was only a rumor..." Craig, a noble boy replied barely above a whisper. "A rumor? No, my father has confirmed it. Why do you think that slave bastard Winterborne was given a noble identity? It’s because of his bloodline..." Braydon spat, as if even mentioning the name sullied his mouth. "Slave? Lord Winterborne was a slave?" this information seemed to rock the group of lackeys. "This is common knowledge," Braydon added, yet he seemed pleased with himself seeing their reactions. "My father says the only reason the king married off his sister to him was to try and integrate the ancient bloodline into theirs." "But I don’t understand, what’s so good about her bloodline?" Randolph asked, seemingly no longer concerned with his losses earlier. "Well..." he saw the expectant looks on the teen’s faces as they hung onto his every word. "I-I don’t exactly know, apparently the royal family have been keeping it a secret." He added lamely, much to the disappointment of the group. "But, my father says I must secure her hand no matter what. As long as she is married into our family—we’ll eventually be able to uncover the secrets of her bloodline." He added with a sinister expression. "Randolph, your Bishop family is quite close with our Marbury family. If either one of us succeeds, we’ll have done a great service..." Braydon said, turning towards the curly-haired boy. "But with that commoner bastard standing in the way..." he added, letting the silence stretch out. "I understand, Braydon." Randolph replied, nodding slowly. "We’ll never get close to her if we don’t deal with that Michael guy." Braydon smiled in response, looking rather sinister. "Good..." he replied, turning to the rest of his group, "I want you all to keep an eye on the commoner—both of them. Find out any weaknesses we can use, we’ll do whatever it takes to complete our families mission." The group agreed, making a pact that would become the start of a longstanding feud. "And where is that damn Jakob?" Braydon asked with annoyance. Meanwhile in another part of the castle, located at the top of the northern spire, a different conversation was taking place. The noon sun was beginning to fall from its peak, kissing the top of the castle. Within the highest room, the headmaster Bartholomew Arcadius sat behind a long mahogany desk, his eyes focused on a thin figure seated across from him. Despite the warm and regal decor, the atmosphere was tense—uncomfortably so. "Sir, I’ve personally verified the information we received." The thin figure of Professor Stark stated solemnly, his gaze lowered. The headmaster’s expression remained impassive, only the flicker in his eyes a sign of his turmoil. He tapped the desk softly, his gaze drifting to the bookshelf on the other side of the room. "Have the royal family issued a statement?" he queried. Professor Stark’s expression turned complicated. "They’ll probably try and sweep it under the rug again, just like the last time..." Get full chapters from ⓝovelFire.net The headmaster nodded distractedly, "you may leave." "Sir... When will we take action?" "Leave, Peter. I will not ask again." Bartholomew replied, his agitation evident. Even behind his impassive expression there were signs that his anger was boiling beneath—ready to explode. "As you wish," Professor Stark stood up abruptly and bowed, turning on his heel with haste and moving towards the door. His anger was evident, but there was no point in showing it here, especially since it was not directed at the man behind the desk. The door closed, leaving Bartholomew alone in his office. With no one present, his face morphed—anger and rage that he’d barely kept at bay spewed out as he raised his fist to strike the beautifully made table in front of him. Yet in the last moment he paused, his fist hovering less than an inch above it. "Those fucking bastards..." he spat through gritted teeth—a wild look on his face.