Chapter 94 : The High Priest
The morning after the royal festival dawned gray and quiet—too quiet for a capital still supposed to be glowing with celebration.
Elias Munter yawned as he trotted up the stairs of the East Magic School with a half-eaten apple in one hand and a smear of toothpaste still on his cheek. His satchel bumped against his hip. Behind him, Revantra—recently taller, sharper-eyed, and more aloof than usual—trailed a few paces behind, arms folded and frowning into the wind.
The bells tolled overhead, deep and slow. Not the usual chime for classes. This was a different tone. Heavier. A sort of low announcement that settled right into your sternum like an anxious cough that wouldn't come up.
Elias paused.
"...That bell sounds judgy."
Revantra sniffed. "Sanctified metal, double-cast in goldleaf. Can't not sound pretentious."
He blinked. "How the hell do you know what a bell is made of by sound?"
She rolled her eyes but didn't answer.
The sound of polished boots echoed sharply off the cobblestones. Down at the campus gates, a column of figures had arrived—hooded at first, until one by one they removed their hoods and revealed white and gold vestments, crisp and untouched by road dust. They moved in a perfect rhythm, robes rippling like synchronized cloth.
And at the center walked a man who didn't need to raise his voice, or even gesture, to command attention.
He was not young, but he wasn't old either—somewhere in that strange middle age that seemed preserved by unnatural will. His white gloves gleamed. His hair was silver, trimmed with military neatness, and his eyes were the color of polished quartz—clear, unreadable.