The Grand Proving Pavilion of the Collegiate Crucible rose three hundred meters above the central plaza of Aethelgard, its vaulted ceiling built from sheets of heavy quartz that flooded the test ring with bright, crystal-clear sunlight. Twelve circular check stages spanned the marble arena, each surrounded by high-thickness aether-dampening fields and rows of tiered stadium seating where evaluators from the Federal Vanguard Board sat with light-projected slates.
Arthur stood at the edge of Appraisal Ring 4, clad in his charcoal-gray Ironfang cadet uniform. Beside him, Grimm sat patiently on his haunches. His black coat shone under the harsh artificial lighting. Across the outer edge of the pavilion, hundreds of cadets from eighty-four world-size academies stood in rigid formation, their beasts displaying the polished, pedigree aesthetics of generational breeding dynasties. Sapphire-scaled drakes, silver-maned war-cats, and armored drakes with gold-leaf trimmed harnesses.
Among them stood Lady Seraphina Frostholme of the Northern Citadel. Her silver-white hair fell past her shoulders like spun frost. It was flanked by twin Glacial Wyverns that breathed plumes of crystal-clear mist into the chilled air. Nearby, Hector Moros of House Moros leaned against a black iron spear, his shadow-serpent coiling restlessly beneath his boots, its rainbow-bright scales reflecting the cold glare of the ceiling lamps. These were the scions of the Federation’s ruling elite. Tamers raised on pure aether-nectar and five-million-credit gene-therapies, their companions engineered in clean corporate biomes where every allele was patented and protected by corporate litigation.
