The morning sun spilled over the marble balconies of the Davisus estate, gilding its golden griffon banners in radiant light. Servants hurried about the courtyard, their voices hushed but brimming with excitement. Something important had arrived at dawn — a letter sealed with emerald wax and bearing the crest of the Mervilin Ace Academy.
The missive was no ordinary invitation. It was a summons that could change destinies.
Lucien sat in the high-backed chair of his father's study, the letter before him. The wax seal glimmered with an enchantment that only yielded to the rightful recipient. With a quiet snap, he broke it open.
The parchment inside bore elegant, flowing script:
To Lucien Davisus, Heir of House Davisus,
By order of the Governor of Mervilin Ace Academy, you are hereby admitted into the Imperial Academy for the Seven-Year Cycle of Magical Instruction.
Your performance in the capital's entrance examinations has been observed by representatives of the Academy and deemed exceptional.
You are to present yourself at the Academy gates within one week of this letter, whereupon you will be formally inducted into one of the Academy's Five Hostels.
May your pursuit of wisdom and power honor your family name and the Aurelius Empire.
Signed, Governor
Elias Mervilin
Head of the Academy
Lucien's eyes lingered on the signature. Mervilin. The name carried weight that resonated far beyond the academy's marble halls.
The Academy was named after the House Mervilin, whose lineage traced back nearly a thousand years. In the early days of the Empire, while nobles fought wars and kings raised banners, the Mervilins pursued a different legacy: knowledge.
They founded the first unified magical school on the Empire's isles, gathering arcane researchers, alchemists, and healers into a single haven. Over centuries, the Mervilin family became the guardians of magical education, their influence extending into every academy across Aurelius.
Yet only one bore their full name: the Mervilin Ace Academy, the crown jewel of learning, ranked number one in all the Empire. Its sprawling island campus was said to rival a small city, its libraries contained scrolls predating the founding of the Empire, and its dueling coliseums had hosted every champion of the last three centuries.
Governorship of the Academy was passed through the Mervilin line, not as an inherited throne but as a sacred duty. Elias Mervilin, the current governor, was both an administrator and a formidable mage-scholar whose authority was second only to the Emperor himself in matters of magical education.
Lord Marcus Davisus leaned back in his chair, laughter booming through the study as Lucien finished reading."Admitted to the Ace Academy — just as your mother and I were! Our golden griffon soars higher by the day."
Lady Helena Davisus placed a hand on her son's shoulder, her eyes shimmering with pride."I still remember walking through those gates for the first time. The friends I made there, the rivals, the lessons… Lucien, you are stepping into a crucible that forges legends."
The Davisus family prided itself not only on wealth but also on ambition. For their heir to enter the most prestigious academy at the top of his age group — and with whispers of genius surrounding him — was a triumph that even coin could not buy.
Lucien, however, only smirked faintly as he folded the parchment."So this is it. The beginning of my seven-year investment."
He had no illusions. The Academy was not simply a school; it was a marketplace of opportunity. Knowledge, alliances, rivalries — all assets to be weighed and exploited. To most, the acceptance letter was a badge of honor. To Lucien, it was a ledger entry: the starting capital for a venture that would span the Empire.
Over the next few days, the Davisus estate bustled with preparation. Tailors arrived to fit Lucien with enchanted uniforms. Servants packed crates of clothes, study materials, and even rare magical reagents.
At the heart of it all, Marcus Davisus presented his son with a heavy coffer, the lock engraved with the griffon crest. With a click, he opened it to reveal rows upon rows of gleaming coins — one hundred thousand gold crowns.
"This will cover your first year's expenses," Marcus said firmly. "Board, books, reagents… and whatever entrepreneurial nonsense you'll no doubt concoct. But remember, Lucien — money flows both ways. It can make or break a man depending on how he handles it."
Helena added softly, "And if you ever need more, don't hesitate to write. We may be far, but we will always answer."
Lucien grinned, pocketing a smaller pouch of coin and shutting the coffer with a decisive thud."One hundred thousand gold… not tuition. Capital."
He could already see opportunities lining up: trade in rare academy items, loaning to less wealthy students, even importing luxuries from Davisus caravans. Seven years in a city-sized academy? To him, it was less a school and more an untapped market.
As the week dwindled, Lucien found himself standing on the balcony of his chamber, overlooking the bustling estate. The horizon stretched toward the sea where the Academy lay waiting.
For the first time since his transmigration, he felt something stir beyond calculation and profit: anticipation.
The tests had proven his genius. The letter had cemented his path. Now, the Academy awaited — a place where heirs of empires, daughters of archmages, and rivals of destiny would converge.
He whispered into the wind, his voice tinged with amusement:"Seven years. Let's see how much gold I can squeeze out of the world before graduation."
And the golden griffon banners of House Davisus fluttered proudly behind him, heralding the heir who would soon step into history.