"The Seventh Prince, Aluric, has arrived for the talent assessment!"
The guard's deep voice echoed through the hall as he stepped aside, allowing me to enter the throne room.
The moment I crossed the threshold, I swept my gaze across the chamber.
The guards who had escorted me peeled away and took their places against the walls. Their task was complete—for now. Only once I left the throne hall would they resume their silent duty at my sides.
The throne room was vast.
Banners of every vassal under the Kray Empire hung from the towering walls, their colors draping the stone like layers of old loyalties. At the far end, above all others, hung the imperial banner itself.
The hall was crowded.
Some present were direct vassals of the Empire, others lesser nobles serving beneath stronger dukes or barons.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of representatives from neighboring nations. Each wore clothing in the colors of their homeland, their national crest embroidered over either the left or right side of the chest.
At the center of the hall stood two thrones.
One belonged to the Emperor.
The other—to the Empress.
Whenever the Emperor left the capital, all matters of state fell to the Empress, aided by a council made up of influential figures throughout the Empire: generals, treasury officials, court mages, and countless others whose titles were somehow always longer than their usefulness.
Seated upon the throne was my father.
Emperor Dray.
He wore dark blue armor, heavy and severe, and in both hands rested a greatsword, its tip planted against the stone floor of the throne hall.
The armor concealed most of his physique, but I knew well enough that metal could not hide strength like his.
Unlike many nobles who wore armor for decoration, my father had earned every scar beneath it.
His body was lean, hardened, marked by countless battles.
He was no mage.
Yet through monstrous physical strength and an almost unsettling ability to predict his enemies several moves ahead, he had become something close to a curse upon every battlefield he entered.
Black hair, already streaked with gray, fell to his shoulders.
His gray eyes were fixed on the throne hall below with an expression bordering on boredom.
At his right sat my mother.
Empress Mayf.
She wore an elegant blue gown, a scepter resting lightly in one hand while the other draped across the armrest of her throne.
Unlike my father, she was a mage.
Her pale blond hair was tied back into a long tail, exposing the slightly pointed ears that marked her elven blood.
A remnant of older bloodlines.
Before the Outcome of the Five Races, elves had once lived near the kingdom where she was born. According to her, the last traces of high elves still ran through our family.
Behind the thrones stood my brothers and sisters.
Approaching my parents, I bowed deeply before lowering myself onto one knee, head lowered.
"Emperor Dray. Empress Mayf. I, the Seventh Prince of the Kray Empire, have arrived to undergo the magical talent assessment."
My voice was calm.
That alone seemed enough to earn both my parents' attention.
Father and mother lowered their gazes toward me.
For a brief moment, our eyes met.
They both gave silent nods.
I rose from one knee and moved to stand behind the throne beside my siblings.
The Emperor struck the stone floor once with the tip of his sword.
The sharp metallic sound instantly silenced the hall.
Every noble turned toward the throne.
"In accordance with the treaty, today the princes and princesses of the Kray Empire will undergo affinity testing for magical talent," Emperor Dray declared.
His voice was not loud.
It didn't need to be.
Soft, controlled, and impossibly authoritative, it carried from one end of the throne room to the other with perfect clarity.
"Depending on the results, each prince and princess will be assigned to the academy most suitable for the development of their talents."
A brief pause.
"Bring forth the mana stone."
The moment he finished speaking, one of the massive side doors opened.
A young woman stepped inside.
She wore a white robe, and in her hands she carried a crystal sphere shimmering with shifting colors—red, blue, silver, black.
Like bottled light refusing to settle.
She crossed the entire throne room before kneeling in front of the imperial thrones, head lowered respectfully.
Then she rose.
Touching a ring on her finger, she summoned a small white table from spatial storage.
At the center of the table was a shallow indentation.
She carefully placed the sphere inside it.
The moment it settled, the colors ceased their restless movement.
The sphere turned pure white.
Inside it, only pale mist remained.
The silver-haired woman lowered her head once more.
"Your Majesties, the mana stone is prepared for talent evaluation."
She stepped to the side of the table.
The Emperor and Empress both nodded.
"My eldest brother was first."
Nreu.
Twenty years old.
Confident to the point of arrogance.
A man who genuinely believed the world could be reduced to two concepts: strength and authority.
If you possessed strength, power naturally followed.
And if you lacked it, anyone stronger could strip everything from you while you stood there pretending dignity was some kind of shield.
Nreu approached the mana stone and placed a hand upon its surface, closing his eyes.
Almost immediately, the sphere shifted.
White turned into a brilliant crimson.
As with any force, magic was divided into several branches.
My tutor had once explained that the brighter the stone's color, the greater both one's magical aptitude and mana reserves.
Color also determined elemental affinity.
Usually, a person possessed one.
In exceedingly rare cases—two.
Red signified fire.
Blue, water.
Gray, earth.
Light green represented air.
Judging by the intensity of the crimson glow, my brother possessed an impressive mana capacity for someone his age.
Soft gasps of admiration spread through the hall.
Nreu removed his hand from the stone and lowered himself onto one knee, bowing his head.
When he raised it again, his blue eyes burned with absolute confidence.
The Emperor and Empress gave him a nod.
Satisfied, he stood and returned to his place behind the thrones beside me.
After him came my younger sister.
Heya.
Twelve years old.
Under normal circumstances, testing before eighteen was forbidden.
Unless a child had already demonstrated magical aptitude significant enough to be confirmed by court mages.
Which, apparently, she had.