The spires of Rosevale Royal Academy first appeared on the horizon as their carriage crested a hill on the morning of the third day, and even Priam, who had seen them countless times in the game's opening cinematic, felt his breath catch at the sight.
The academy was magnificent.
Built on a sprawling estate that had once been a summer palace for the royal family, the main building rose like something out of a fairy tale. White marble walls gleamed in the morning sun, adorned with intricate carvings and elegant arches. Towers reached toward the sky, their tops capped with blue-gray slate that matched the color of the kingdom's banner. Gardens spread out in all directions, meticulously maintained, with fountains and statuary scattered throughout. Beyond the main academy building, Priam could see the dormitories, the training grounds, the magical practice fields, and the great hall where ceremonies and balls would be held.
It was beautiful, impressive, and utterly intimidating.
"Finally," Seraphina breathed beside him, and when Priam glanced at her, he saw that her earlier vulnerability had been carefully packed away. The mask was back in place—the cold, perfect, untouchable Lady Seraphina von Ashcroft, future Crown Princess. Her expression was composed, her posture impeccable, and only someone who had learned to read her in the past few days might notice the slight tension in her jaw.
She was terrified.
"My lady," Priam said quietly, "remember what we discussed. You don't need to—"
"I know what I need to do," Seraphina cut him off, her voice sharp. Then, softer: "But thank you for the reminder."
As their carriage approached the academy gates, Priam could see other carriages arriving as well. Noble families from across the kingdom had sent their children here—sons to train as knights and administrators, daughters to secure advantageous marriages and learn the arts of high society. It was networking, education, and marriage market all rolled into one prestigious institution.
And somewhere in this crowd of arriving students was Crown Prince Aldric Silvercrest himself.
The carriage rolled through the gates—emblazoned with the royal crest and flanked by guards in ceremonial armor—and entered the main courtyard. The space was massive, paved with white stone and centered around an enormous fountain depicting the kingdom's founding. Dozens of carriages were already present, and students in various states of arrival milled about while servants unloaded luggage.
The social hierarchy was immediately visible. The most ornate carriages were given the closest positions to the main entrance. Students from ducal families were greeted with deep bows from the academy staff. Those from lesser noble houses had to wait their turn, and the few scholarship students from wealthy merchant families looked distinctly uncomfortable as they tried to navigate the unspoken rules of aristocratic society.
The Ashcroft carriage, bearing a ducal crest, was naturally given priority placement. When it came to a stop, an academy official—a stern-looking woman in formal robes—approached immediately.
"Lady Seraphina von Ashcroft," the woman greeted with a respectful bow. "Welcome to Rosevale Royal Academy. I am Headmistress Corvina. We are honored to have you join us."
Priam exited first, as protocol demanded, then turned to assist Seraphina down from the carriage. She took his offered hand with practiced grace, descending the steps as if she were floating rather than walking. Every movement was perfect, calculated to draw attention and admiration.
And it worked. Conversations stopped. Heads turned. Priam could see the reactions rippling through the crowd—envy from other noble daughters, interest from noble sons, and calculation from those trying to assess potential alliances or threats.
"Headmistress," Seraphina greeted with a flawless curtsy. "The honor is mine. I look forward to my time at this esteemed institution."
"Your reputation precedes you, Lady Ashcroft. I trust you'll find our facilities more than adequate." Headmistress Corvina's sharp eyes flickered to Priam. "This is your personal attendant?"
"My butler, Priam Ashford. He will be residing in the servant's quarters and attending to my needs during my time here."
"Of course. We have accommodations prepared." The Headmistress gestured to a younger staff member. "Please show Lady Ashcroft to her residence and ensure all her needs are met."
As they followed the staff member—a nervous young man who kept bowing excessively—through the academy grounds, Priam took in every detail. The pristine pathways, the other students eyeing Seraphina with various expressions, the sheer scale of wealth and power on display. This was the world of the elite, and he was walking through it as the lowest rank of servant.
Stay alert, he reminded himself. In the game, the first major event happens during the welcome reception tonight. That's when the Prince will be formally introduced, when Seraphina will make her first play, and when the heroine will have her fateful first encounter with him.
They were led to a building near the main academy structure—a residence hall for the highest-ranking noble students. Seraphina's accommodation was, as expected, lavish. A suite of three rooms: a bedroom, a sitting room, and a dressing area. Large windows overlooked the gardens, and the furniture was elegant without being ostentatious. It was designed to reflect status while maintaining the academy's aesthetic.
"Your servants will be housed in the adjacent building," the staff member explained, still bowing. "However, your personal butler may use the antechamber here if his duties require close proximity."
"That will be acceptable," Seraphina said, already moving through the space with a critical eye, inspecting everything.
Once the staff member left and the other Ashcroft servants began unloading trunks, Seraphina turned to Priam.
"The welcome reception is tonight. I need to be perfect." Her voice was steady, but he could see the tension in her shoulders. "The Prince will be there. This is my first real opportunity."
"You'll be magnificent, my lady," Priam assured her. "Just remember—"
"Be myself, yes, I remember your advice." She moved to the window, looking out over the grounds. "But what if myself isn't enough?"
Before Priam could respond, there was a commotion outside. Voices raised in excitement, a sudden surge of movement. He and Seraphina both moved to the window to see what was happening.
A new carriage had arrived—no, not just a carriage. An entire procession. The royal carriage, drawn by six white horses and flanked by royal guards in full ceremonial armor. The vehicle itself was a masterpiece, gilded and carved with such intricate detail that it looked more like a work of art than transportation.
"He's here," Seraphina whispered, and her hand gripped the windowsill so tightly her knuckles turned white.
The carriage door opened, and Crown Prince Aldric Silvercrest emerged.
He was, Priam had to admit, objectively impressive. Tall and athletic, with silver-white hair that caught the sunlight and deep blue eyes visible even from a distance. He wore a formal military uniform in the royal colors—deep blue and silver—with enough medals and insignia to make his rank unmistakable. His bearing was confident without being arrogant, his expression pleasant but reserved.
He was exactly what a fairy tale prince should look like.
And Priam hated him on principle.
Not fair, he thought. The guy hasn't done anything wrong. He's actually one of the better capture targets in the game—responsible, intelligent, genuinely cares about his kingdom. It's not his fault Seraphina is obsessed with him.
But watching Seraphina's face as she stared down at the Prince, seeing the mix of determination, hope, and desperation in her expression, Priam couldn't help the surge of irrational dislike.
"He's perfect," Seraphina breathed. "Look at him. He's everything a future king should be."
He's a person, not a prize, Priam wanted to say, but he bit his tongue.
The Prince was quickly surrounded by academy officials and sycophantic nobles eager to curry favor. He handled it all with practiced ease, offering appropriate greetings and maintaining a diplomatic smile. After a few minutes, he was escorted toward the main academy building, presumably to private accommodations befitting his status.
"Tonight," Seraphina said, turning from the window with renewed determination. "Tonight, I'll approach him properly. I've prepared for this my entire life. I won't fail."
"My lady—"
"Help me prepare, Priam. I need to look absolutely flawless." She moved toward the trunks where her gowns were packed. "The purple silk. And the diamond jewelry set. And my hair must be perfect—"
"My lady," Priam interrupted gently. "Take a breath."
Seraphina stopped, turning to look at him with wide eyes. "What?"
"You have hours before the reception. Rushing now will only make you anxious." He moved closer, keeping his voice calm and steady. "Let's approach this methodically. First, you should rest from the journey. Then we'll have time to prepare you properly. There's no need to panic."
"I'm not panicking," Seraphina said, but her voice was slightly too high, too fast.
"Of course not, my lady. But nonetheless, rest would be beneficial."
For a moment, he thought she would argue. Then, surprisingly, she nodded. "Very well. Wake me in two hours. And Priam?"
"Yes?"
"Don't let me oversleep. This is too important."
"I won't, my lady. I promise."
After Seraphina retired to her bedroom, Priam set about organizing her sitting room and coordinating with the other Ashcroft servants. Luxanna appeared, looking harried but relieved to see him.
"How is she?" the maid asked quietly.
"Nervous. Determined. Terrified she'll fail." Priam sighed. "In other words, exactly as expected."
"Poor thing," Luxanna murmured. "All this pressure. No wonder she's so..."
"Cruel? Demanding? Tyrannical?" Priam supplied.
"I was going to say 'tightly wound,' but yes." Luxanna glanced toward the bedroom door. "Do you think she'll actually catch the Prince's attention?"
Not if the game's script holds true, Priam thought. In every route, he's polite to her but uninterested. She's too intense, too obviously ambitious, too perfect to be genuine. He'll see right through the performance.
"I think," Priam said carefully, "that tonight will be... interesting."
And that was an understatement. Because if he remembered correctly, tonight wasn't just when Seraphina would make her play for the Prince. It was also when the game's heroine—Lady Elara Rosefield—would have her "fateful encounter" with him. A scripted event where she would accidentally spill wine on his uniform, they would have a moment of eye contact, and boom—first impression made.
It was a stupid, contrived plot device.
It was also exactly the kind of thing that would send Seraphina into a rage if she witnessed it.
I need to prevent that, Priam realized. If Seraphina sees the heroine catching the Prince's attention, she'll immediately target her. And in the game, that targeting led to increasingly violent schemes that ultimately resulted in Seraphina's downfall.
But how could he prevent a scripted event without making things worse?
He spent the next two hours planning, thinking through every possible scenario. When he finally woke Seraphina as promised, he had the beginnings of a strategy.
"My lady," he said as she emerged, looking more rested but no less determined. "May I make a suggestion for tonight?"
"What kind of suggestion?"
"About your approach with His Highness." Priam chose his words very carefully. "Rather than trying to monopolize his attention immediately, what if you focused on making a strong impression and then giving him space to seek you out?"
Seraphina frowned. "You want me to ignore him?"
"Not ignore. But consider—he'll be surrounded by nobles desperate for his attention. If you approach differently, with confidence rather than eagerness, you'll stand out. Quality over quantity of interaction."
It was manipulation, pure and simple. If he could keep Seraphina from hovering around the Prince all night, she'd be less likely to witness the heroine's "accident." And if she made a strong initial impression and then stepped back, the Prince might actually be intrigued rather than overwhelmed.
It was a long shot. But it was better than nothing.
Seraphina considered this, her expression thoughtful. "Strategic restraint rather than aggressive pursuit."
"Exactly, my lady."
"It's risky. What if he doesn't seek me out?"
"Then he's not worthy of you." Priam met her gaze steadily. "But I believe he will be intrigued. A woman who doesn't fawn over him? That would be unusual enough to be memorable."
Slowly, Seraphina smiled. "You know, Priam, for a butler, you're remarkably devious."
"I live to serve, my lady."
"Yes," she said, her smile growing. "You certainly do."
As evening approached and Priam helped Seraphina prepare—her hair styled in an elegant updo, the purple silk gown fitted perfectly, diamonds glittering at her throat and ears—he couldn't shake the feeling that he was playing a very dangerous game.
He was trying to rewrite fate itself.
And the consequences of failure would be measured in blood.