The stairs leading to the Disciplinary Committee building were old, carved from dark stone, etched with runes so faded they barely caught the light of the early morning sun. Corin's footsteps echoed against the walls, muffled, but firm.
He knew this path. At least, parts of it. But this time, it wasn't one of the smaller meeting rooms he was being summoned to.
Serena was already waiting outside the main building, dressed in her usual, immaculately fitted uniform, this time adorned with a thin gold band on her shoulder, marking her rank within the committee.
Her gaze slid over him, followed by a slight, appreciative nod.
"Corin. Your performance last week left an impression. Even on those who'd rather not admit it."
Corin replied with a curt, almost polite smile.
"I'm sure the impression was... useful."
The corners of Serena's mouth twitched, barely noticeably.
"You've been asked to report to the main office today. The Chairman wishes to see you himself."
That was new. Unexpected. And... reassuring.
His plan had worked.
She led him through a different entrance than usual. These corridors were quieter, wider. No windows, only tapestries bearing the symbols of the Academy, the Committee, and others far older. Some were unfamiliar. Some spoke to a part of him he didn't quite understand.
Finally, they stopped in front of a heavy door. A single plaque of dark brushed metal hung beside it:
"Chairman of the Disciplinary Committee"
Serena didn't knock. She opened the door for him.
"He's expecting you."
The room was large, but not ostentatious. The walls were paneled in dark wood, and light spilled through a high window onto the desk where a man sat, upright, calm, completely present.
His hair was pitch black, plaited into a long, high braid that emphasized the noble angles of his face. His moss-green eyes were soft, strikingly so, in contrast to the quiet authority he radiated.
He was... charismatic. Not loud, not commanding. But the kind of man one followed without realizing it.
When Corin entered, the man raised his eyes, but remained seated.
"Corin Denoir."
His voice was warm. Deep. Razor-sharp.
"An interesting name."
Then, almost casually, he stood. Stepped around the desk. His coat billowed slightly with the movement.
Corin's body tensed instinctively. There was no pressure. No path. No force. And yet... there was a presence. A silent wave that claimed space without needing to speak.
Then Corin's eyes landed on the crest on the man's chest.
A bear. With a broken chain.
Everything inside him froze.
Valtror.
"I am Nomen. Of Valtror," the man said, as if the name weighed nothing. But Corin knew better. Everyone in the city knew Valtror.
An ancient house. Power. Isolation. Liberation. Control.
The man's gaze remained on him, friendly, attentive. Almost caring.
"Sit, Corin. I want to know who you really are."
And suddenly, the space around him felt smaller. Not physically. But psychologically.
Corin knew this conversation would be anything but ordinary.
Corin's mind raced.
Valtror.
The name echoed in his head like a broken gong.
Inevitably, the image of Ezekiel surfaced, the cold stare, the hunters, the package. The dark shadows of his past.
Persecution. Pain.
'Are they connected? Is this coincidence?'
But he knew, nothing in this world was coincidence.
He forced himself to calm down. Breathe. Just because they shared a name didn't mean they shared the same truth.
And yet… he couldn't quite shake the impulse. His right hand tensed unconsciously, as if reaching for something that could protect him.
By now, the others in the room had settled into place.
Serena stood at the teapot, elegant as ever, pouring hot water with precise grace over a dark blend of leaves. A hint of smoke and the scent of herbs filled the air.
Cearen, as usual, leaned against the wall as if he'd leased it years ago. Hands in his pockets, hair slightly disheveled, his expression half-bored, half-curious, or maybe just neutral. His gaze was hard to read. As if he didn't quite belong here.
Corin finally sat down, as requested. The armchair was surprisingly comfortable, almost deceptively soft. But his eyes remained locked on Nomen.
The man had resumed his seat, hands folded as if leafing through a file in his mind. Then he spoke, calm, controlled, with the natural authority of someone who didn't need volume to lead.
"Your performance at the end of the week. I didn't see it myself, unfortunately. But within the hour, several voices came to me independently, saying we had a new, interesting candidate for the committee."
He leaned back slightly, studying Corin with a gaze that was both benevolent and vigilant.
"Many want to join. Some for the responsibility. Some for proximity to the Student Council. Others for the status. The Committee carries weight in this academy, Corin. And you..."
His gaze sharpened, not threatening, just precise.
"You seem to know how to attract attention. And how to control it."
Corin said nothing. Every sentence was a test. Every pause, an invitation. Valtror. He couldn't ignore it.
But he wouldn't betray himself, not so easily.
At last, he answered quietly, with that narrow smile that never quite gave away what lay behind it:
"I value order. Sometimes it's easier to maintain it when you have the tools in hand."
Serena wordlessly handed him a cup of tea. Steam rose, slightly metallic on the tongue. Cearen glanced at him, then looked away again.
Nomen nodded slowly.
"A sensible thought. And a dangerous one. Just the right start for someone like you."
His tone was calm, almost like a compliment. He leaned forward now, elbows on the desk, fingers interlaced. His eyes remained steady, deep with decades of experience.
"You didn't just show interest, Corin. You acted. You stepped into the light. Bold. Prepared. Something I truly appreciate. And desperately need in this academy."
Corin raised a brow, slightly. The honesty surprised him. No game. No veiled motive. No trap between the lines. Just appreciation.
"You've proven yourself, not just in strength, but in your grasp of the structures. The dynamics. Even though you're... not a noble."
Silence. Then Corin smiled, faintly. Almost imperceptibly.He simply nodded.
"The title of Committee Leader wasn't given to you lightly. You have a remarkable eye, Nomen of Valtror."
Nomen didn't acknowledge the compliment directly. He stayed serious, gaze still sharp.
"Usually..." his voice softened "...you do this job for a while before you understand it. But I don't care much for 'usual.' I care about aptitude."
Then he leaned back again.
"So let me ask you, Corin. What do you think is the true purpose of the Disciplinary Committee?"
Corin didn't hesitate long. His thoughts drifted to Cearen's words, to veiled conversations, to meanings between lines.
"To handle conflicts tactfully. To remove them from sight. To maintain general order."
Nomen tilted his head. Not wrong. But not complete.
"Correct," he said. "But not the most important thing."
Corin frowned slightly. Nomen rose slowly and walked to the window, letting his gaze fall over the Academy courtyard. Students hurried across the pavement in clusters, uniforms gleaming, voices raised, fates scattered.
"The original purpose of the Committee... was different. More urgent. More personal."
He turned back to Corin, and his voice now held not just force, but truth.
"Students like you, Corin... need protection. The academy is a playing field. And those without name, title, or family... often go unseen. Or worse, overlooked."
"The nobles, they usually find a way. They have resources. Houses. Intrigue. But people like you? Survivors? Latecomers with fire that can't be bought?"
He paused, letting the words settle.
"We are here to protect the weak."
Silence. Only the wind whispered through the open window.
"If we don't stand for them, who will? Gold? Laws?"
A cold smile, almost bitter.
"No, Corin. It's duty. It's responsibility."
And for a moment, Corin saw no Valtror. No nobleman. Only someone who had known what it meant to be born powerless and who had forged a blade out of duty.
And it was then that Corin realized: This room was perhaps the most dangerous he had ever entered.
Not because of the power it may hold, but because of the truth it may leed him to.