Chapter 738: The Imperial Academy

In the days that followed, the psychic network showed no further unusual fluctuations. Daniel had already begun investigating the rumors surrounding the strange phenomena, while Gawain continued to monitor the domestic and international situation, keeping a close eye on the operation of the vast imperial machine he had built. Time quietly slipped by in this way.

On the first day off in the month of Mistfall, the weather was unusually clear.

Today in Cecil City, there was a cause for celebration.

The brilliant sunlight of the great sun dispersed the thin clouds overhead, bathing the winter streets of Cecil in a warm glow. Citizens, bundled up in thick winter clothes and brimming with joy, gathered in crowds, converging in the southern district known as the Mage Quarter.

At the end of this street stood a brand-new, grand building complex, adjacent to the Mage Quarter’s cluster of structures, right next to the Rune Research Institute and the Arcane Technology Laboratory. Facing the district’s main avenue and the semicircular “Knowledge Plaza,” it resembled a crown perched atop the southern city, proudly receiving the admiring gazes and cheers of the people.

—Today marked the official opening of the Imperial Academy.

The honor guard formed a stately formation on Knowledge Plaza. A tall dais had been erected before dawn, draped with long banners of deep black-blue, emblazoned with golden swords and plow emblems, shimmering solemnly in the early sunlight. Four heavily armored White Knights stood vigil on either side of the platform. When Gawain appeared in his formal attire, the knights and the soldiers lined up in the plaza simultaneously turned to face him, their metal armor clinking as they saluted their sovereign.

Before stepping onto the platform, Gawain glanced back at the building behind it—

The castle-like main hall of the Imperial Academy stood proudly bathed in bright daylight. Two auxiliary wings flanked the main building, while four spires rose around the academy’s perimeter, all gleaming under the sun. Within the grounds, brand-new fountains, flowerbeds, and a large arcane obelisk slowly rotating in the plaza were arranged with a harmonious blend of classical mystique and the unique aesthetics of modern arcane industry.

Gawain couldn’t help but recall the old Cecil General Academy—those low brick buildings, the fence walls, the dusty courtyard, and the rickety wooden sheds that swayed whenever the wind blew.

It was a world apart.

With the development of the southern territories, especially the reorganization of the former Ansar Kingdom, many of the foundations Gawain had laid in Cecil City had become insufficient. The makeshift infrastructure of the past now faced urgent demands for upgrades.

The Cecil General Academy had once nurtured the first generation of key intellectuals in the south and completed the initial four-year literacy campaign. But as Cecil’s population steadily grew, the demand for higher education increased. Students from all over the north flocked to the city, and the humble academy was gradually overwhelmed.

For this reason, Gawain had begun planning a larger capital academy a year ago, intended as the flagship educational institution of the new order he was building. Initially named the “Cecil Higher Academy,” after the empire’s founding it was renamed the “Imperial Academy” and underwent a series of adjustments to fit the new imperial context. Today, it finally opened its doors to the public.

As the “advanced” institution succeeding the General Academy, the Imperial Academy could accommodate many more students and offer higher-level education. At the outset, it was divided into four colleges, each focusing on arcane technology, cultural studies, extraordinary education, and modern military science. Within these were further subdivisions covering runology, mechanics, linguistics, history, law, magic, alchemy, sociology, natural sciences, military strategy, modern weaponry, and more. In fact, the entire new order Gawain was constructing was encapsulated within this vast and complex academic system.

The academy was open to all, just like the old General Academy. It made no distinctions based on a student’s background and strictly forbade any form of discriminatory education.

The old Cecil General Academy, of course, was not abandoned after the Imperial Academy’s establishment. It remained, having undergone renovations, located just two streets away from the new institution. It continued to fulfill its role in literacy and basic education, providing opportunities for those with little or no prior knowledge.

In a sense, the General Academy served as a stepping stone for lower-class citizens to eventually enter the Imperial Academy. Those without any foundation would struggle to keep up with the specialized education at the Imperial Academy or compete with wealthier students who already had a knowledge base. But through the General Academy, they could fill those gaps. Its recommendation letters and scholarships would help them gain admission.

This was Gawain’s imperfect but effective “patch” within the current social structure.

Gawain ascended the platform prepared for him, a genuine smile lighting his face as his gaze slowly swept over the countless citizens gathered in the plaza.

Cheers erupted from all directions. Every person in the square shouted joyfully, saluting the founder of the empire.

“Citizens, welcome. I am pleased to announce that today, a new institution dedicated to the welfare of the people of Cecil will begin operation—right behind me…”

Among the crowd, a young man with short brown hair stood quietly in an inconspicuous corner, looking up at the emperor speaking from the platform like everyone else.

But unlike the others, his eyes held not only respect but a calm steadiness, tinged with a hint of curious scrutiny.

Massive holographic images stood on either side of the plaza, and the amplified voice from magical devices echoed throughout the square. After each of Gawain Cecil’s sentences, waves of applause and cheers would ripple through the crowd. The young man couldn’t help but look around—curious about the excited, joyful people and the strange enthusiasm radiating from each of them. Finally, he nudged a passerby beside him.

“Such a grand gathering… Did everyone come here on their own? How did you all find out about this event?”

The passerby turned to him and asked loudly, “You’re not from around here, are you?”

The young man was a little taken aback by the volume but stepped back slightly, still smiling politely. “I… yes, I’m from out of town.”

“That’s understandable,” the passerby said cheerfully. “This kind of gathering is a big deal in Cecil City. They usually showcase all sorts of novelties or important new policies. Everyone’s interested. Before the event, newspapers promote it, and the magic network broadcasts announcements. Basically, unless you stay indoors all day and never read the papers, you’d know about it.”

The young man nodded, a look of realization dawning on his face. “I see…”

The passerby glanced at him again, suddenly curious. “Hey, young man, what brings you here?”

“I’m here to study,” the young man replied with a smile, pointing toward the Imperial Academy. “I’m going there.”

“Whoa—that’s impressive!” the passerby’s eyes widened. “You’re bound to make something of yourself.”

The young man blinked. “Why do you say that?”

“It’s simple. The more you learn, the more you know. The more you know, the better jobs you can get—in factories, government offices, the military. Those respectable places all require literacy and numeracy,” the passerby said proudly. “Take me, for example—I used to do hard labor in the mountains, but now I’m a technician in a factory, all because I went to night school.”

The young man listened, somewhat stunned, as the passerby shared these straightforward “truths.” For him, this was an unprecedented experience—an ordinary commoner speaking with such confidence and joy about these simple facts.

“Anyway, young man, study hard,” the passerby suddenly reached out and gave the young man’s shoulder a couple of firm pats. “I can tell you’ve got potential. This place welcomes capable people. As Master Gawain said… this is a good era!”

The young man’s eyes widened in surprise as the hand came down on his shoulder. He instinctively frowned and tried to dodge, but only shifted slightly, and the hand landed solidly.

The force made him sway a little. He flashed a somewhat awkward expression before masking it with a stiff smile. After exchanging a few casual words, he turned and squeezed through the crowd.

He intended to head toward the edge of the plaza and slip away unnoticed along a side path back to his temporary lodging. But after a few steps, he seemed to sense something and stopped.

Looking up, squinting slightly against the bright sunlight, he saw two figures approaching.

One was a blond young man about his age, unfamiliar to him.

The other wore a dark blue silk coat, had short silver hair, and a bright smile.

He recognized this one.

The heir to the Northern Duchy, Findel Wilde.

That distinctive, cold magical aura was unmistakable. The young northern heir clearly hadn’t yet mastered the subtle control of magic that Duchess Victoria wielded. His presence in the plaza was marked by a faint but undeniable magical fluctuation.

The brown-haired young man smiled and walked toward the two. They had already noticed him. Before he could speak, the northern heir waved and called out loudly, “Eleven! So you’re here too?”

Eleven Franklin quickened his pace, frowning slightly. “Findel—shouting like that in the plaza isn’t very marquis-like behavior.”

“Come on, I barely managed to slip away from my aunt’s watchful eye,” Findel said, waving his hand. “And you think squeezing into the crowd to watch the gathering is more fitting for a marquis?”

Beside them, the blond young man, Philm, had intended to greet his friend’s companion but now stared wide-eyed, stunned. He looked at Findel, then at the stranger called Eleven, and finally back at Findel. “…Huh?”

“Damn it, I haven’t even figured out how to explain this yet,” Findel suddenly realized, pressing a hand to his forehead and glancing at Eleven. “How many times have you messed up my plans now?”

Eleven paused, as if beginning to piece things together. He looked at Philm, still clearly bewildered, then back at Findel. “So, this is…”

“My traveling companion—whom I met aboard the Highlander,” Findel began, “Ah, the Highlander is a magi-mechanical ship, you know, it’s—”

“I know about mechanical ships. I’ve ridden one on the Whitewater River,” Eleven interrupted with a weary shake of his head. “So, you never told this companion of yours who you really are?”

“I didn’t want to ruin this rare journey,” Findel said with a wry smile, turning to Philm. “I’m sorry, Philm. It wasn’t my intention to hide it—I just didn’t want the title of Heir to the Northern Duchy to affect how we got along. It’s not every day you make a friend outside the castle walls.”

“The Heir to the Northern Duchy…” The blond young man from Baren finally confirmed the words he’d heard, his shock so intense it almost took his breath away. “My god… so your full name is—”

“Findel Wilde,” Findel answered, then gestured to Elevent. “And this is Elevent Franklin, Marquis, son of the Duke of the Western Duchy. Ah, I should really list all his titles and honors here, but that would be tedious, so let’s skip that part.”

“Elevent, this is Mr. Philm from Baren—the creator of the Shadowplay, an outstanding playwright… at least, that’s what I think.”

Philm’s gaze flickered back and forth between the two heirs. As someone aspiring to be a great playwright himself, he suddenly found himself doubting his own ability to write scripts.

Faced with such a dramatic reality, his imagination as a playwright suddenly felt a little inadequate.

(End of chapter)