"Power isn’t about what you can do. It’s about what you can make other people do to themselves."
***
The heavy oak door slammed against its frame hard enough to rattle the crystal inkwell on Alistair Valerius’s desk. Dark droplets sprayed across the polished wood. Vance Thorne stood in the doorway, breathing hard from his sprint across the academy grounds. His golden hair hung in damp strands across his forehead. His House Aurum uniform looked like he’d slept in it, the usually immaculate golden trim dulled by dried mud.
Yesterday’s mud. From yesterday’s humiliation.
"Prefect Valerius." Vance’s voice shook. "I demand satisfaction."
Alistair kept writing. His quill moved across the parchment in smooth strokes that suggested he had all the time in the world and none of it belonged to Vance Thorne.
The silence went on long enough for Vance to start shifting his weight from foot to foot. His boots creaked against the polished floor. His hands opened and closed at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them.
"Satisfaction for what, exactly?" Alistair’s tone stayed flat. Bored, almost. Though the corner of his mouth twitched upward just slightly.
"That Leone filth conspired with a mud-blooded commoner to humiliate me! In public! Before half the academy!" Vance’s voice climbed higher with each word. "It was orchestrated from the beginning!"
"Orchestrated?" Alistair set down his quill. He leaned back in his chair and fixed Vance with a gaze that held all the warmth of a winter grave. "By Kaelen Leone? The same Kaelen Leone who can barely tie his boots without assistance? The boy who trips over his own shadow and cries when the training instructors raise their voices?"
Vance’s jaw worked silently. His knuckles cracked from how hard he was clenching his fists.
"You weren’t there. You didn’t see the way it unfolded. The timing of it all..."
"I saw the aftermath." Alistair’s voice didn’t change. Still bored. Still dangerous. "A pathetic third son throwing gold at a commoner like scraps to a dog. Making a spectacle of himself in a way that embarrassed his entire house. Hardly a grand conspiracy, Thorne. More like a fool desperately trying to purchase relevance."
"The timing was too convenient! The way that spear-wielding savage appeared exactly when—"
Vance caught himself. The words died in his throat as he realized what he’d been about to admit.
Alistair’s eyebrows rose. Pale arches against his aristocratic features. "When what, precisely? When you and your friends were conducting what sort of business in the western woods?"
Vance flushed. The color climbed from his collar to his hairline like a spreading stain.
"We were simply... discussing academy policies with Leone. Explaining proper decorum. His place in the social order."
"And this discussion required three of you?" Alistair’s voice stayed mild. Something lurked beneath the pleasant tone. Something that made the room feel colder. "Far from academy supervision? Beyond the boundary markers that signify the edge of sanctioned grounds? Tell me, Thorne. How exactly would you characterize such a discussion to the disciplinary committee if they were to investigate?"
"The details are irrelevant!" Vance stepped forward. His earlier caution evaporated in his desperation. "What matters is that a Leone has allied himself with common trash against his betters! The insult to House Aurum cannot go unanswered!"
The quill snapped between Alistair’s fingers.
The sharp sound made Vance flinch backward like he’d been slapped.
"Are you suggesting House Valerius should concern itself with the social missteps of House Leone?" Alistair’s voice dropped lower. "That the foremost family in the kingdom should lower itself to address the antics of a drunkard’s pathetic son?"
Vance swallowed. Hard. Some of the color drained from his face as he recognized exactly what kind of ground he’d stumbled onto.
"House Thorne has always supported House Valerius. Our families have been allied since the Third Succession..."
"House Thorne has always needed House Valerius."
Alistair let that hang in the air for a moment. Let it settle.
"Your father’s mining ventures exist at our sufferance. Operating on land we could reclaim with a single letter to the Crown. Your family’s Council seat was granted through our recommendation and could be revoked just as easily." He paused. "Even your enrollment at this academy required certain considerations that I’m sure you’d rather not see documented."
All the remaining color drained from Vance’s face. He looked like a man watching the floor open beneath him.
"Prefect, I didn’t mean—"
"Perhaps House Leone’s behavior does require correction, however."
Alistair’s tone shifted. Became almost thoughtful. Like a cat deciding whether to play with its food a bit longer.
"A formal disciplinary action might remind certain parties of their proper place in the order of things. And it would provide an opportunity for House Aurum to demonstrate its commitment to maintaining academy standards."
Hope kindled in Vance’s eyes. Bright and eager and pathetically obvious.
"A formal challenge? Between Leone and myself?"
"A disciplinary spar. Public. Regulated. Within my authority as Prefect to authorize." Alistair picked up a fresh quill and began writing again. The scratching sound filled the silence. "Consider it an educational opportunity for the entire academy. A demonstration of what happens when lesser houses forget their station."
"When?"
"Three days hence. Time for proper notices." The quill paused. Alistair looked up to meet Vance’s eyes directly. "And preparation. Use that time wisely, Thorne. House Valerius does not appreciate disappointment. And I would hate to have to explain to your father why his investment in your education has produced such inadequate returns."
Vance bowed. Deep enough that his forehead nearly touched his knees.
"You have my gratitude, Prefect. House Leone will learn their place."
"Indeed they will."
Vance left. His footsteps faded down the corridor until the only sound was the scratch of quill on parchment.
Alistair continued writing for several minutes. His expression stayed thoughtful. Distant. When he finished, he reached for his academy seal. The Valerius sun gleamed in the lamplight as he melted the wax.
Leo won’t approve.
He pressed the seal into the crimson pool.
My dear cousin has such quaint notions about honor and fair play. He’ll likely lecture me about proper conduct. The responsibilities of leadership. The dignity of our house.
The wax hardened. The sun symbol stood out in sharp relief.
But Leo doesn’t understand that leadership sometimes requires dirty hands. Sometimes examples must be made. Lessons taught in ways that everyone remembers.
Alistair set the sealed letter aside and reached for another sheet of parchment. Already composing the formal announcement in his head. The wording would need to be perfect. Neutral enough to seem legitimate. Pointed enough to remind everyone watching exactly who held power at this academy.
And besides.
He allowed himself a small smile. The kind that never reached his eyes.
Watching that pathetic Leone boy get beaten publicly will do wonders for morale.