Scene 1
The notice arrived at dawn.
Maxwell sensed it before the knock. A pressure in the air. Old. Formal. Heavy with intent.
The dorm attendant stood straight in the doorway, gloved hands holding a sealed document. The crest was unmistakable. The Ardent sigil. Red wax. Duke authority.
"This was delivered under noble channel," the attendant said. "Immediate receipt required."
Maxwell accepted it without a word.
The seal was warm. Recent. Deliberate.
Rachel stood a few steps behind him, already tense. Tobias lingered near the window, pretending not to stare while doing exactly that.
Maxwell broke the seal.
The parchment unfolded itself, letters burning briefly before settling into ink. Legal language. Precise. Unforgiving.
He read it once. Then again.
No insults. No emotion. No accusation.
Only terms.
By decree of Duke authority, Maxwell Ardent was placed under conditional succession review. His exile was no longer informal. It was suspended.
A deadline was issued.
Performance benchmarks would determine worth. Not potential. Not effort. Results only.
Failure would activate Clause Seven.
Succession would pass to Lucien Ardent.
Maxwell folded the parchment.
Rachel exhaled sharply. "They put a timer on your life."
"They put a timer on a title," Maxwell said.
Tobias stepped closer. "That's not the same thing."
Maxwell met his eyes. "To them, it is."
Silence followed.
Rachel broke it. "What are the benchmarks?"
Maxwell handed her the document.
Her expression shifted as she read. Disbelief. Anger. Control.
"These are not tests," she said. "They are traps."
Public evaluations. Political endorsements. Combat demonstrations under controlled observers. Noble favor metrics.
No margin for error.
"They want you to fail cleanly," Tobias said.
"Yes," Maxwell replied.
Rachel looked up. "And Maria?"
Maxwell paused. "She was not listed."
That worried him more than her name being present.
A second knock came.
This time softer.
Maria stepped inside without waiting for permission.
She had not slept.
Her eyes moved from the parchment to Maxwell's face. She did not ask.
"So it begins," she said.
Rachel turned toward her. "You knew."
Maria nodded once. "They finalized it last night."
Tobias frowned. "And you did not warn him."
Maria's jaw tightened. "I fought for time."
Maxwell raised a hand. "How much?"
Maria hesitated. "Three weeks."
Rachel stiffened. "Three weeks for this?"
"For worse," Maria replied. "Lucien wanted one."
Maxwell absorbed that.
Maria met his gaze. "I argued procedure. Jurisdiction. Academy neutrality. I forced concessions."
"What did it cost you," Maxwell asked.
Her voice dropped. "Influence."
Rachel watched her closely now.
Maria took a breath. "The benchmarks will be announced publicly. They want witnesses. They want pressure."
Maxwell nodded slowly. "They want certainty."
"Yes," Maria said. "And fear."
Rachel stepped forward. "This system is rotten."
Maria looked at her. "This system feeds kingdoms."
Rachel clenched her fists. "Then it deserves to fall."
Maria almost smiled.
Almost.
Maxwell folded the notice again and placed it on the desk.
"I will not rush," he said.
Tobias blinked. "What?"
"They expect panic," Maxwell continued. "They built the clock for that purpose."
Maria narrowed her eyes. "You plan to ignore it?"
"No," Maxwell said. "I plan to control it."
Rachel studied him. "How?"
"I will meet every benchmark," he said. "But not how they expect."
Maria crossed her arms. "They will adjust."
"Then I will adapt," Maxwell replied.
Tobias let out a slow breath. "You sound calm."
"I am focused," Maxwell said. "There is a difference."
Maria stepped closer. Her voice lowered. "You need to understand something. If you fail publicly, there will be no second exile. Only erasure."
Maxwell met her stare. "Then I will not fail."
Rachel placed herself between them. "He will not stand alone."
Maria looked at Rachel for a long moment.
Then she nodded. "Good."
She turned to leave, then paused at the door.
"The first benchmark will be announced within forty eight hours," she said. "Rest while you still can."
She left.
The door closed.
The room felt smaller.
Rachel turned to Maxwell. "Do you still want the title?"
The question landed harder than the notice.
Maxwell did not answer at once.
He looked out the window. Students moved below. Laughing. Training. Living without clocks.
"I want choice," he said. "The title removes it."
Tobias frowned. "But losing it removes your safety."
"Yes," Maxwell said. "That is the design."
Rachel stepped beside him. "Then what do you choose?"
Maxwell's reflection stared back at him in the glass.
"I choose to survive the clock," he said. "Then decide."
Outside, academy bells rang.
Time had started moving.
Scene 2
The announcement did not wait for rumor.
By midday, the academy amphitheater filled beyond capacity. Students lined the upper rails. Faculty stood in measured rows. Noble observers occupied the elevated gallery, their presence deliberate, their silence louder than speech.
Maxwell stood with Rachel and Tobias near the center floor.
He felt eyes on him from every direction.
Dr Timothy stepped forward. His gold rimmed glasses reflected the light as he raised one hand. The murmurs faded.
"By noble request and council sanction," he said, "the academy acknowledges a conditional succession review involving House Ardent."
The name carried weight. Students leaned forward.
Maxwell did not move.
"This review concerns Maxwell Ardent," Dr Timothy continued, "currently enrolled under academy protection."
A pause. Controlled. Intentional.
"Performance benchmarks will determine eligibility for succession."
The projection ignited above them.
Criteria unfolded in clean lines.
Combat evaluation under noble supervision.
Strategic assessment under crisis simulation.
Public conduct review.
Peer and faculty endorsement threshold.
Whispers erupted.
Rachel's fingers curled at her side.
"They turned your life into a checklist," she said under her breath.
Maxwell watched the projection without reaction.
Dr Timothy spoke again. "These evaluations will occur over the next three weeks. Results will be recorded publicly."
Lucien stepped forward from the noble gallery.
Permission was implied.
"Fair and honorable," Lucien said, voice carrying. "The House deserves clarity."
Some students nodded. Others looked uneasy.
Rachel turned sharply toward him. "Fair is not the word."
Lucien smiled at her. "Princess. Welcome to noble arithmetic."
That was when it happened.
A student near the back spoke too loudly. "Low class appraisal mage. Three weeks is generous."
Laughter followed. Not kind. Not loud. Enough.
Maxwell felt it land.
Rachel took a step forward.
Maxwell stopped her with one hand.
He turned instead.
The crowd quieted as he faced them.
"You are right," Maxwell said, voice steady. "Three weeks is generous."
Lucien raised a brow.
Maxwell continued. "Generous for observation. Generous for mistakes. Generous for truth."
He looked toward the noble gallery.
"I accept the benchmarks."
The murmurs surged again.
Dr Timothy studied him. "You understand the implications."
"Yes," Maxwell replied.
Rachel looked at him. "You did not have to say it like that."
"Yes," he said softly. "I did."
The announcement concluded shortly after. The crowd dispersed, energy buzzing, lines forming instantly between those who doubted and those who watched with interest.
Rachel remained still.
"This is cruelty," she said. "Refined. Smiling. Clean."
Maxwell nodded. "That is noble pressure."
Tobias swallowed. "They want you to break in public."
"They want certainty," Maxwell said. "Failure removes doubt."
Rachel turned toward the gallery where Lucien still stood. "And if you succeed."
Maxwell followed her gaze. "Then doubt spreads."
They walked away together.
Above them, noble eyes tracked every step.
The Duke's clock ticked on.