The gates of Cambridge University loomed ahead.
Aldric watched them grow larger with every turn of the carriage wheels. Four years. That was how long this place would claim him.
The iron gates parted slowly, almost ceremonially, and the carriage rolled through.
He hadn't expected it to be this vast.
Stone buildings stretched endlessly, their towers piercing into the pale sky. Ivy clung to ancient walls like time itself refused to let go. Students moved across the courtyards in clusters — laughter, debate, ambition in motion.
It was bigger than any estate.
Bigger than anything he had ever seen.
And for the first time since leaving home, Aldric felt something unfamiliar.
Small.
He stepped off the carriage, boots touching the stone pavement.
Two uniformed guards moved quickly, retrieving his luggage as if the weight of it meant something. Around him, other carriages arrived in steady succession, each unloading another heir, another name, another future.
Aldric adjusted his coat and followed the flow of students being directed toward the main hall.
The auditorium was vast — rows upon rows of polished seats curving toward an elevated stage. High windows filtered in muted light, casting long shadows across the floor.
Every incoming student had already taken their place.
Whispers traveled like wind through dry leaves.
Titles were exchanged.
Lineages measured.
Eyes assessed.
They were waiting.
At the front of the hall stood a single podium.
The Vice Chancellor would speak soon.
And in the silence before the ceremony began, Aldric felt it again — that faint, quiet pressure beneath his skin.
As if something inside him was listening too.
The side door behind the stage opened.
The murmurs died instantly.
An elderly man stepped forward, robes of deep navy trimmed in silver. His hair was white, combed neatly back, his posture straight despite his age. Sharp eyes scanned the hall with quiet authority.
He did not raise his voice.
He didn't need to.
"Welcome," he began, hands resting lightly on the podium, "to Cambridge University."
The acoustics carried his words effortlessly across the auditorium.
"For the next four years, this institution will shape you — whether you permit it to or not."
A faint ripple of restrained laughter passed through the students.
"This university was built on legacy. On discipline. On the understanding that potential is meaningless without control."
His gaze lingered briefly on the noble-born students seated near the front.
"Some of you carry great names."
Then his eyes shifted — slower this time.
"Some of you carry nothing at all."
The silence that followed was deliberate.
"But within these walls, lineage grants no exemption from consequence."
He folded his hands behind his back and began to walk slowly across the stage.
"You will be tested. Academically. Socially. Morally."
A pause.
"And perhaps in ways you do not yet understand."
Aldric felt the faint pressure beneath his skin stir at those words.
The Vice Chancellor stopped walking.
"This institution does not produce fragile minds. It produces leaders. Scholars. Strategists."
His voice hardened slightly.
"Those who cannot withstand pressure will remove themselves."
Not be removed.
Remove themselves.
"You are here because someone believes you belong."
His eyes swept across the hall one final time.
"Over the coming years, you will discover whether that belief was justified."
He inclined his head once.
"Welcome to Cambridge."
The applause began — measured, restrained, almost formal.
But beneath it, Aldric sensed something else.
Expectation.
After the applause faded, the Vice Chancellor stepped aside and several faculty members entered from the wings.
Assistants began moving through the rows, handing out sealed envelopes.
"Dormitory assignments," one announced. "You are to proceed immediately."
The hall erupted into low conversation as students tore open their envelopes.
Aldric broke the wax seal on his.
Dormitory B
North Wing
Room 214
No flourish. No explanation.
Just placement.
He folded the paper neatly and rose from his seat.
Outside the auditorium, guards and attendants waited to escort students to their respective dormitories. The university operated with unsettling efficiency — like a machine already in motion.
One of the Ashcombe guards retrieved his luggage and followed as Aldric walked toward the North Wing.
The dormitory building stood slightly apart from the main academic halls. Tall stone arches. Narrow windows. Ivy crawling like veins along the exterior.
Inside, the corridors were quiet. Too quiet.
Room 214.
The guard pushed the door open.
The room was spacious enough — two beds opposite each other, two desks beneath tall windows, wardrobes against the wall. Sunlight spilled across polished wooden floors.
Empty.
The guard set down Aldric's trunk near the left bed.
"Will you require anything else, Young Master?"
"No."
The guard bowed slightly and exited, closing the door with a muted click.
Silence settled.
Aldric stood still for a moment.
No pressure. No whispers. No hunger.
Just quiet.
He began arranging his belongings methodically — books stacked by size, clothes folded precisely, boots aligned beneath the bed. The familiarity of order steadied him.
Then—
The door opened without a knock.
Aldric turned.
A tall young man stepped inside, dragging a trunk behind him with little effort. Golden blond hair. Blue eyes. Broad shoulders. There was something effortlessly confident in the way he moved — not arrogant, just certain.
He paused when he saw Aldric.
"Well," the stranger said, glancing around the room once before looking back at him. "Looks like we're sharing."
He extended a hand casually.
"Sebastian Vale."
There was a firm steadiness in his gaze. Not probing. Not hostile.
Just assessing.
Outside, somewhere in the courtyard below, students laughed.
Inside Room 214, something subtle shifted
Aldric looked at the offered hand for a fraction longer than necessary before taking it.
"Aldric Ashcombe."
Sebastian's grip was firm — not a test of strength, but not careless either.
"Ashcombe?" A faint spark of recognition crossed Sebastian's face. "North estates?"
"Yes."
"Hm." Sebastian released his hand. "Then I suppose we're both far from home."
He dragged his trunk toward the opposite bed and set it down with a dull thud.
Unlike Aldric, he didn't begin unpacking immediately. Instead, he walked toward the window and glanced down at the courtyard below, where students were already gathering in small territorial circles.
"You get the feeling," Sebastian said casually, "that this place isn't just about lectures?"
Aldric didn't answer right away.
He felt it too.
Not danger exactly.
But pressure.
Measured. Observed. Evaluated.
"It rarely is," Aldric replied at last.
Sebastian smiled faintly — not amused, but satisfied.
"Good. I was hoping my roommate wasn't dull."
He finally began opening his trunk, far less precise in his movements than Aldric had been. Clothes folded loosely. Books stacked without symmetry.
Different temperament.
Different rhythm.
Yet the air in the room had changed.
Not tense.
But charged.
Two futures occupying the same space.
Outside, a bell began to toll in the distance, low and resonant.
Classes would not begin until the morning.
But something had already started.