No one in the capital needed to announce that the Strongest had returned from a catastrophe-rank dungeon.
The city felt it before anyone even saw him,like something heavy and alien had cut through the sky above the walls, carrying a pressure that wasn't fear so much as an instinctive certainty: something had happened that could not be ignored.
The dragon landed in the inner courtyard of the royal palace without shattering walls or putting on a show of strength, and yet the stone beneath its claws cracked anyway,as if the very material decided it was wiser to yield than to resist. Guards, officials, and servants scattered on instinct, not because an order was given, but because their bodies remembered faster than their minds that not every creature could be managed with procedure.
Aurelian slid off the beast's back with the casual ease of someone climbing down from a wagon after a long journey. He threw the dragon a brief look and told it to wait,no spell, no hand sign, no visible magic at all. The dragon snorted, flared its wings for a moment, then simply folded itself down in the courtyard, as if the palace were no more than a convenient place to rest compared to a mountainside.
The magic around him was thick and unpleasant to be near. Not aggressive,just everywhere, like the pressure before a storm. People with even the slightest sensitivity to energy felt nausea, dizziness, or a sudden urge to drop to one knee, even when their reason insisted there was no such obligation.
Aurelian walked the palace corridors without escort and without invitation, passing servants who stepped aside because it was safer that way. The doors to the audience chamber opened before anyone had the chance to ask whether they should.
The king was waiting.
He stood by a window when Aurelian entered, and for a brief moment he looked out at the courtyard where the dragon lay, as if trying to remember when the last time was that he had been the one setting the terms of a meeting.
Aurelian didn't stop at the throne. He didn't stand in the center of the hall like other visitors. He walked past, dropped into one of the side chairs without asking, and slouched back like he owned the place. He crossed one leg over the other,then, a beat later, propped the second on the armrest, utterly ignoring the fact that he was in the king's audience chamber.
For a moment he picked at his ear with a finger, shamelessly, like someone bored after a long trip,not someone in a conversation that could decide the fate of entire provinces. Then he looked at the king with an expression that wasn't provocative so much as indifferent, as if he genuinely saw no reason to behave otherwise.
The king felt the familiar, unpleasant tension flare at his temple,the same one that always came when Aurelian reminded him how little titles, thrones, and this entire place truly mattered.
"The losses were enormous," the king said at last, his voice calm and controlled, even as fury rose inside him and he forced it down. This wasn't a conversation where he could afford emotion. "People died. The houses lost experienced mages. For us, it was a nightmare."
Aurelian looked at him with faint amusement, as though he'd just heard something shockingly naive.
"Because it was," he replied lightly. "For you."
The king's fingers tightened.
"Couldn't you…" he started, then stopped, searching for words that wouldn't sound like begging. "Couldn't you respond more often? Earlier? Before the situation slips out of control?"
Aurelian tilted his head, as if truly considering it.
"If something shows up that actually threatens humanity," he said at last, waving a hand in a vague gesture, "something you weaklings genuinely can't handle,then of course I'll respond."
He smiled briefly.
"But I'm not wasting time on every lower dungeon full of small fry."
The king felt his eyelid twitch.
For him,and for the houses,those places were slaughterhouses. Mortalities were high. Trained people died. Entire expeditions vanished without a trace. Cities lived for months in fear of the next surge of monsters.
For Aurelian, it was background noise.
Something not worth his attention.
"They aren't small fry to us," the king said quietly, fighting to keep his voice steady. "Those are real losses."
Aurelian shrugged, legs still draped over the chair.
"Scale," he said. "Difference in scale."
And in that one short statement, the king heard everything that humiliated him most: that what was the edge of possibility for a kingdom was, for this man, barely scenery,static,something that didn't even deserve full attention.
Aurelian stretched in the chair as if the conversation were starting to bore him. He rested his head against the back and stared up at the ceiling, unconcerned that the king still stood a few steps away, clinging to the last scraps of dignity while each passing minute only deepened the imbalance between them.
"Since we're talking about the future," Aurelian said, in the tone of someone casually changing topics to something less annoying, "I'm going to open a magic academy."
The king didn't answer immediately, because for a fraction of a second his mind simply refused to accept it,as if the statement were too detached from everything Aurelian had said until now.
"An academy…?" the king repeated at last. His heartbeat quickened, because for a brief moment he let himself believe this might be one of those rare times the Strongest chose to act within the existing order. "What exactly do you mean?"
Aurelian flicked his hand, as if the answer were so obvious it barely deserved elaboration.
"A magic academy," he said calmly. "A place to learn. Training. Theory. Practice. Normal stuff."
The tension in the king eased,just for an instant.
"I understand," he said faster than he intended, taking a step closer as if the conversation had finally turned toward something he could manage. "That… that could be a very good move. The houses have complained for years about the lack of cooperation between them, and an institution under your patronage could,"
He was already opening his mouth to continue, already assembling a list of which houses to inform first, thinking of how to turn it into political advantage and proof of the kingdom's stability,
when Aurelian cut him off.
"You don't need to inform the houses," he said casually. "I'll handle it."
The king stopped mid-step.
"Pardon?" he asked, unsure he'd heard correctly.
"I have to talk to the Merchant Guild and the Adventurers' Guild anyway," Aurelian continued, settling more comfortably into the chair. "They've got people in every city, at every dungeon, on every route. Word spreads faster through them than through your offices."
The king stared at him in silence for a long moment.
"I don't understand," he said slowly. "Why the guilds, when this is a matter for the houses?"
Aurelian looked at him with mild surprise, as if it had only just occurred to him that the king truly wasn't seeing something.
"And who said anything about the houses?" he asked.
The blood drained from the king's face.
"Wait," he said, raising a hand like he could halt the conversation itself. "You can't mean you want to,"
He hesitated.
"...that you want to open the academy to commoners?"
Aurelian nodded.
"That's the plan."
For a moment, the king couldn't find his voice.
Then everything seemed to collapse at once.
"That's madness," he said at last, and something entered his tone that almost never did. "You don't understand what that means. This isn't about one institution. This is a change to the entire order of the world. Magic will stop being restricted. The houses will lose control. There will be hundreds,thousands,of people with power that no one will be able to,"
"...and that's exactly why they need education," Aurelian cut in, bored. "Not secrets and inheritance."
The king began to pace.
"There will be uprisings. Wars. Bloodshed," he said faster and faster now, no longer hiding his emotion. "States aren't ready for this. The world isn't ready for this."
Aurelian shrugged.
"The world is never ready," he replied. "Sometimes it just stops making sense to pretend nothing changes."
The king stopped short, as if only now it had truly sunk in that this wasn't persuasion or probing limits.
It was a one-sided announcement.
A decision already made, regardless of what he said or tried to forbid.
"I can't agree to this," the king said at last, sharper than he meant, turning on Aurelian with tension clear in his voice. "Not like this. Not at this pace, and not without preparation. This isn't one decree or one consent,it's the foundations the world stands on."
Aurelian looked at him calmly.
"Then I'll stop dealing with the dungeons," he said without pressure, almost casually, like he was informing him of a change in plans for the next few days. "All of them. Not selectively, not 'for a while.' I'll simply stop responding."
It didn't sound like a threat, because it wasn't delivered like one.
And yet it hit the king harder than any raised voice or show of force,because they both knew exactly what it meant in practice.
The king felt his chest tighten, as if the hall itself had shrunk around him, and every contingency plan he'd kept in the back of his mind for years had just ceased to exist.
"That…" he began, then stopped, because the words he wanted to say sounded too weak even to his own ears. "That's blackmail."
Aurelian raised an eyebrow and looked at him in silence for a moment, as if deciding whether the label was even worth responding to.
"It's information," he corrected calmly at last. "You decide what you do with it. I'm simply telling you what the consequences will be if you decide you don't want to agree."
Silence fell,long and heavy,until the king realized something he hadn't wanted to admit even to himself:
He had no leverage.
No force he could use.
No solution that didn't end in a catastrophe worse than the one they'd just narrowly avoided.
"I have conditions," the king said finally, slower and quieter now, in the voice of a man who had just understood he'd lost,but was still trying to salvage a shred of control. "The academy will operate openly, without hiding its activities. I will have oversight. And… one of my daughters will be admitted."
Aurelian looked at him briefly,no surprise, no objection,like he'd expected exactly that.
"If she wants to learn, I don't see a problem," he said. "And if she doesn't, no title will help her."
He paused, then added, clearly tired of the conversation now:
"As for the rest,you can tell the noble houses their children have the right to study at the academy too. But they can keep their opinions to themselves. They don't matter to me."
He rose from the chair without hurry, straightening his coat as if the discussion had ended in the most natural way in the world,rather than as one of the most important moments in the kingdom's history.
The king watched Aurelian leave without farewell, without waiting for an official end to the audience, with a growing, unmistakable sense that this hadn't been negotiation or compromise at all.
It was the moment the world changed direction without asking anyone for permission…
…because one man had decided it was pointless to wait any longer.