Upon entering the dining hall, the atmosphere is distinguished by its discreet elegance, a soothing contrast to the day's tumult. The chandeliers diffuse a soft light that reflects off the silver tableware, creating an intimate and hushed ambiance. The air is filled with the subtle scents of freshly prepared dishes, and the conversation resumes around the large table. Each person shares the particularities of their region, the discussions intertwining, each voice contributing to the effervescence that persists in the room.

  Mero takes his place among the other students, adopting a respectful yet open posture, his mind curious. He seeks to continue the exchanges while discreetly observing the group dynamics around him. The girls who had ignored him earlier in the day seem to continue turning their backs on him, a stance he interprets perhaps as reserve, or simply a form of distant curiosity. He is unsure what to make of it, but he feels, despite himself, a slight tension in the air.

  Soon after, other younger or more friendship-inclined students begin to turn towards him. Mero exchanges a few jokes about the quality of the dishes served, the conversation flowing with a lightness suited to the occasion. However, deep down, a question lingers: are the girls who ignore him simply distant, or do they belong to a closer-knit group, a circle that might be difficult to access?

  A boy from the group, slightly older, breaks the distance. He addresses Mero with a sincere smile. "You made a good impression at the card game earlier. It seems we have some good players here. Maybe you can teach us to be even more strategic?" His tone is light, almost teasing, but Mero perceives genuine respect in his words, a beginning of recognition. It doesn't take much more to understand that this type of connection could be useful, perhaps even essential, to grasp the social subtleties of the school. Yet, the girls' distance remains a mystery.

  Dinner slowly comes to an end, and the atmosphere shifts slightly as the other students, those who do not reside in this apartment, begin to leave the dining hall. The conversation fades as the voices die down, and only five of them remain around the table. A small, more intimate circle forms naturally, perhaps conducive to more personal, less superficial exchanges.

  Sven, the boy from the Kingdom of Iron, remains aloof. He maintains a calm, almost distant posture, an attitude that sets him slightly apart from the group. His gestures are measured, thoughtful, and he seems lost in thought, his gaze vacant, pensive. He does not seek to mingle but is not isolated either. He silently plays with his glass, observing the room but without focusing on any one subject.

  Dorian and his sister are twins. Their murmurs intertwine, sometimes addressed to Mero, sometimes between themselves. Their accent from the Kingdom of Fine, delicate and slightly aristocratic, softly resonates in the air. They exude nobility, and Mero cannot help but notice how their manners and words betray their refined upbringing. Dorian seems to always take the lead, seeking to guide others without imposing his presence. His sister, on the other hand, is more reserved. She observes the other students but never fully engages in the group dynamics.

  Mero finally notices the last person still present. It is the girl he had spotted earlier, the one who seemed more distant than the others. She remains alone, but her attitude exudes a silent curiosity. Her eyes rest on Mero several times, but without really seeking to establish contact. It is a hesitant gaze, as if she is waiting for something. Something she does not yet seem ready to ask for. She is shy, but it is clear that curiosity is not foreign to her behavior.

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  The silence that settles between the five students becomes almost tangible, heavy, filled with untapped potential. Each takes on their role, some more distant, others more present, but all slowly forming a small community, a core that could solidify over time. The underlying tension is palpable, both subtle and evident. It is likely that these initial exchanges, though superficial, could transform into something more complex: alliances, rivalries, strategies to be implemented.

  Mero is aware that he must navigate this atmosphere with caution. The first tests have been passed, but there is still much to learn. He observes carefully, every gesture, every word, every silence, seeking the slightest opening to learn more about the others, their motivations, and aspirations. This evening is a beginning, a moment when the balance of power begins to take shape slowly.

  The conversations dwindle as the remaining students take their leave, until only Mero and the girl remain. She, dressed in a gown of rare elegance and adorned with jewels of exceptional finesse, seems to be from another world. Beside her, the room they are in seems almost insignificant, a mere shadow compared to her presence. Her gestures are perfectly measured, elegant, as if each movement is calculated, each gesture a choreography performed with royal precision.

  She is a living embodiment of the highest nobility. Mero cannot help but notice how she exudes royalty, how every aspect of her being seems designed to embody perfection and authority. In her presence, the room seems to lose its substance, as if all that matters is reduced to her being there. Her gaze, fixed and almost imperial, captures all of Mero's attention.

  Without waiting for him to speak, she turns to him and introduces herself. "Hélène," she says, her tone imperious yet imbued with a cold softness. That is all, a name, but it is enough. Mero, caught in the moment, feels irresistibly drawn to the majesty of the situation. He instinctively kneels, as an act of deference to someone whose mere name commands absolute respect.

  Hélène is the imperial princess, the only granddaughter of the Emperor, the sole daughter of his third son, a prince fallen in battle. Her status is unparalleled. Mero's words seem to dissolve in the air, consumed by the almost divine aura that emanates from her. The silence between them is heavy with meaning. It is a moment of capital importance, a moment when Mero's place in this elite universe seems to be redefined.

  She seems neither surprised nor moved when he kneels. On the contrary, this deference appears natural, almost expected. The silence lingers a little longer, each of them meditating on the power dynamic that is established between them. Then, Hélène speaks, her voice resonating like a soft yet firm command, a reminder of each person's place.

  "You seem to know how to show respect," she says, but there is something more in her voice, something beyond mere observation.

  She slightly lifts her eyes, scanning the surroundings as if ensuring no one is observing this scene too closely. Everything about her exudes precision and control. Nothing is left to chance.

  "I give you the opportunity to do more than just kneel," she continues. "You are here to learn. It is time to do more than admire."

  Her words hang in the air like a promise, an invitation but also a warning. Mero feels a new pressure weighing on him, but he knows that every interaction with her could well mark a turning point in his future at the Imperial School of Mor.

  "I will be worthy of Your Majesty," Mero responds, feeling the weight of this crucial moment.

  Hélène nods, almost imperceptibly. "I know," she says finally, her voice soft yet filled with certainty. "It is thanks to you that we were able to make the kingdom of Ambrelune yield without too much friction with our neighbors."

  Then, with a final graceful movement, she withdraws, leaving Mero alone with his thoughts, alone to ponder what has just transpired in this dining hall.