The morning bell echoed through the academy halls, and Reinhardt sat quietly at his desk, flipping through a thick grimoire. His focus wasn't on the page, however—it lingered on the sealed envelope that lay neatly beside his hand.
The crimson wax bore a dragon's crest, sharp and proud: the mark of House Drachenfels.
Whispers had already begun to spread among the students nearby.
"...That's the Drachenfels crest, isn't it?"
"Wait, Reinhardt? That quiet guy belongs to that house?"
Reinhardt exhaled softly, sliding a finger along the seal. He didn't look bothered, almost as if he had been expecting this letter all along.
"Eliraaa," Alden leaned across his chair, whispering loudly enough for half the class to hear. "He's been hiding it. Our friend is secretly a noble prince!"
Elira smirked and put on a mock-curtsy. "Oh, forgive me, Lord Drachenfels. Shall I fetch your royal slippers as well?"
Reinhardt closed the grimoire with a dull thud. "...You two are insufferable."
Callen, sitting behind them, was the only one who didn't laugh. His eyes lingered on the seal. "That's not just any letter," he said quietly. "You alright, Reinhardt?"
For a moment, Reinhardt didn't answer. His gaze rested on the crest, memories of another lifetime flickering behind his calm eyes. A time when fire consumed his home, and the cries of his family echoed in the flames.
Not this time.
He saw the letter in his hand, his voice a low murmur that none of them could quite catch.
"The House of Drachenfels… I won't fail you again."