The midday sun cast long shadows across the Academy's grand courtyard, where students and faculty gathered in anticipation. The air buzzed with murmurs and speculation as the Academy's official herald stepped onto the raised platform, clad in ceremonial robes. A hush fell over the crowd as he unrolled a silver-plated scroll.
He rapped his staff against the stone floor once, his voice carrying across the courtyard.
"The Academy has reached its verdict regarding the final match."
Kalem stood near the back, arms crossed, his face unreadable. Jhaeros and Nara flanked him, while Garrick leaned against a column nearby, arms folded over his broad chest. On the opposite side, Isolde stood tall, her expression calm but tense.
The herald continued.
"No winner shall be declared."
The courtyard erupted into hushed conversation. Some scoffed, others whispered in confusion. No winner? After all that?
Kalem remained silent. He had expected this.
Jhaeros smirked. "They took the easy way out."
Nara rolled her eyes. "Cowards."
The herald raised a hand for silence and pressed on.
"Furthermore, effective immediately, Kalem of the First Year is required to undergo a full mental evaluation before being allowed to participate in any future sanctioned tournaments during his stay in Eeyrendyl."
That got a stronger reaction. Even the nobles in attendance murmured at the decision. A few smirked, while others frowned.
Kalem exhaled slowly. Well. That's inconvenient.
Garrick snorted. "They think you're insane."
Jhaeros chuckled. "Not an unreasonable assumption."
Nara scowled. "This is ridiculous."
Kalem simply nodded. He had anticipated some form of restriction, but an official evaluation? That meant the Academy wasn't just concerned about his combat style—they were wary of him as a person.
The herald concluded his announcement and stepped back, allowing the murmuring crowd to begin dispersing.
Kalem turned on his heel, walking away from the courtyard with Jhaeros and Nara following.
"Do they even have a standard for these evaluations?" Nara muttered.
"Probably not," Jhaeros replied. "They'll just prod at his mind and see if they get scared."
Kalem smirked. "That's their problem, not mine."
Before they could go any further, a familiar voice called out.
"Kalem."
He turned to see Lyra approaching, her expression unreadable. The setting sun cast a glow on her auburn hair, but there was a weight in her stance.
Kalem studied her. "You don't look happy."
She sighed. "I have news. My father has requested a meeting."
Kalem blinked. "What?"
"All of us," Lyra clarified, looking at Jhaeros, Nara, and Garrick. "He wants to meet."
Jhaeros let out a low whistle. "Well, that's ominous."
Nara frowned. "Why now?"
Kalem had a feeling he already knew. Lord Mathias Everwood had likely been watching the tournament, and after the chaos of the final round, he had questions.
Garrick crossed his arms. "What does he want?"
Lyra sighed. "He didn't say. Just that he wants to meet with Kalem and those closest to him."
Kalem exhaled. "Alright."
Jhaeros grinned. "You're taking this rather well."
Kalem smirked. "It's not the worst thing that's happened to me this week."
Lyra shook her head. "Just… be careful. My father doesn't waste time with meaningless meetings."
Kalem met her gaze, nodding once. I wouldn't expect anything less.