The Royals Game
The Royal Academy was abuzz with rumors.
"A Baldovery is attending?"
"I heard it's the youngest heir—Lucien Baldovery."
"Impossible. No one's ever seen him before. Some say he's sickly, others claim he’s deformed."
"Or maybe he's just too good-looking for common eyes," a noble girl giggled, fanning herself.
The mention of the Baldovery name sent a ripple of excitement and dread through the academy’s elite. The Baldoverys weren’t just rich—they were powerful, untouchable even by royalty. To have one of them in the academy meant the social order was bound to shift.
Some saw opportunity.
"If I can befriend him, I’d be set for life!" a young lord mused.
"Befriend? Tch, imagine marrying into that family. That’s real power."
Others saw a challenge.
"A spoiled brat who’s never stepped outside his estate? He won’t last a day."
"Power means nothing if you don’t know how to use it. Let’s see if he can handle real nobles."
And then there were those who saw a threat.
Hidden in the corners of the academy, rival families and envious nobles whispered among themselves.
"If a Baldovery rises in the academy, our influence will shrink."
"We can’t allow that. He needs to be kept in his place."
The game had already begun.
And Lucien Baldovery hadn’t even arrived yet.
The chandelier above cast a golden glow over the lavish sitting room of the Dmitry estate. Velvet curtains draped the towering windows, and bottles of the finest wine lined the glass shelves. It was a gathering of the empire’s most influential young men, each with a name that could make others kneel.
Jacob Dmitry swirled his glass of wine, leaning back on the silk-upholstered couch. The heir of the Dmitry business empire, he was half-Austrian, a man who moved in both Western and Eastern aristocracy with ease. He lived by a simple rule: If you can’t own it, destroy it. His lips curled into a smirk.
"Have you heard? A Baldovery will be attending the academy." His voice was smooth, but his words sparked immediate reactions.
Vicente Guerrero, draped in the finest silk, let out a laugh, crossing one leg over the other. As the owner of the most prestigious fashion empire, he had built his name on exclusivity and control. And the Baldoverys? They were a mystery even money couldn’t buy.
"The elusive heir finally shows himself? Interesting. Do we know what he looks like?" Vicente mused, adjusting the golden cufflinks on his sleeves.
Johan, the second prince, scoffed from his seat by the fireplace. Unlike the others, his reputation wasn’t built on wealth but cold, untouchable power. His nickname, The Ice Prince, wasn’t given without reason.
"It doesn’t matter what he looks like," Johan said, setting down his untouched drink. "What matters is what he wants."
James, the son of the empire’s most feared general, stretched lazily on the couch, his feline eyes glinting with amusement.
"Tch. Probably just another pampered noble who doesn’t know how the world works," he muttered. "I bet he won’t last a month."
Xyden, the heir to the kingdom’s most powerful Pharmaceutical Research Organization, sat quietly, his fingers tapping against his glass. He was always the most calculating, the one who analyzed before he spoke.
"You’re underestimating the Baldoverys," Xyden finally said. "No one has ever seen Lucien Baldovery. Not at social events, not in business. That alone makes him dangerous."
Miguel, the youngest son of the Grand Duke, grinned, running a hand through his silver-streaked hair. Unlike the others, his amusement wasn’t hidden.
"Dangerous? Maybe. But he’s walking into our world now. The academy isn’t a place for fairy tale princes. It’s where power is earned, not inherited."
Jacob chuckled, raising his glass.
"Then let’s welcome our dear Lucien Baldovery properly, shall we?"
The six clinked their glasses together, the unspoken agreement clear.
The game had just become more interesting.