Chapter 896: At the Academy

The afternoon sun shone brightly over the plaza, casting a warm glow on the metal emblem atop the main teaching building, which sparkled brilliantly in the light. Findel walked among the students hurrying to their classes, all of them ascending the long, gentle slope leading to the main building. He wore the brand-new uniform of an Imperial Academy cadet officer; the decorative chains near the collar and the brass buttons gleamed under the sun.

Among the students coming and going on the slope, some wore uniforms similar to his—replicas of the regular army’s service dress—while others donned the attire of different departments. The scholars walked with heads held high, proud to be part of the empire’s premier institution. There were young people like Findel, middle-aged men with graying hair, and even elderly figures whose faces were lined with wrinkles.

“You ended up choosing the officer track after all,” a voice came from beside him. “I thought you might at least give the magic engineering department another try before this winter.”

Findel glanced over and saw Ilaven, the son of the Duke of the Western Territories, dressed in the new blue uniform of the magic engineering division—a blend of mechanical and magical symbols that made his already scholarly friend look even more refined.

“Your new uniform looks good too,” Findel smiled, then shook his head with a hint of self-mockery. “But I’ll pass. I know where I have a knack and where I’m hopeless. If it’s fighting with magic, that’s fine. Or even some less complicated math and physics. But dealing with machines? I’d rather go hunt bears on the ice plains. My aunt must have known this when she sent me here—she didn’t even make me take any extra mechanical courses.”

Ilaven studied him for a moment, then shook his head in resignation. “I’ve always admired your optimism.”

“Ha! Don’t be so serious. I just don’t want to see you turn into a bookworm by the time I graduate as a reserve officer,” Findel laughed heartily. “You’re already heading that way!”

Ilaven clearly had no interest in entertaining the Northern heir’s not-so-subtle humor. Instead, he thought seriously for a moment and sighed. “These days, we see even less of Philm—he’s almost always busy alone over at the film company.”

“Well… we all have our own things to do,” Findel said, shaking his head. “But it’s too early to worry about that. We just have heavier coursework than before. It’s not like we have to take up duties in the military or the government yet. We still have at least two wonderful years of academy life ahead of us. Until then, we can still make time to show up at the film company.”

“True,” Ilaven nodded, glancing at the students coming and going on the slope—not just the official students in their department uniforms, but also the freshmen in basic attire. Every face he saw was confident and proud, which gave him pause. “Philm told me once he has a dream. He hopes that as magical shadow plays develop and gain acceptance, a dedicated academic discipline will emerge—just like scholars teaching at the Imperial Academy—teaching others how to produce, perform, and create magical shadow plays.”

“That’s quite an original idea,” Findel said, surprised. “I never thought about that!”

“Yeah, no one’s ever done anything like it. Most of the knowledge is passed down through families or master-apprentice relationships. But Philm seems to believe it should be systematized like the knowledge taught here,” Ilaven shrugged. “Maybe he’ll succeed?”

“If that day ever comes, he might become more famous than either of us. Years from now, his portrait could hang on the walls of some teaching building—like the father of the magic web or Ravencrest.”

Ilaven smiled at the thought. Just then, a group of freshmen in their new uniforms appeared at the far end of the slope, drawing the attention of him and several nearby students.

Findel quickly spotted them too—boys and girls, all about the same age, their polished appearances and subtle mannerisms marking them as coming from distinguished backgrounds. Though they walked together and outwardly resembled other students, a keen observer would notice they didn’t quite blend in. They spoke among themselves nervously, and passing students occasionally kept a subtle distance.

It wasn’t obvious, but it caught Findel’s attention.

“Ah, those are the foreign students from Typhon,” the Northern heir murmured. “I remember that girl named Dana.”

“Hey—that’s not very noble of you to say.”

“What? I was just helping them find their way,” Findel quickly defended himself. “You know, these Typhon students are under the emperor’s special care.”

“They always seem so tense. No one here rejects them,” Ilaven shook his head. “If they keep this up, it won’t be easy for them to finish their studies.”

“That’s when we ‘hosts’ need to show some goodwill,” Findel laughed, patting Ilaven on the shoulder as he started walking toward the Typhon students. “Come on, we should greet the freshmen—let them know the Cecilians are courteous too.”

“Greet them?” Ilaven muttered, but before he could say more, Findel was already approaching the group. He sighed and followed after him.

It was the right thing to do.

After all… building good relations with these noble youths from Typhon and introducing them to the vibrant world of Cecilia was part of their mission at the academy.

…

A pair of pale gray eyes watched cautiously from the shadow of a colonnade, observing the activity on the courtyard slope for a long while before finally withdrawing.

A small, childlike figure with gray hair and eyes hid behind the pillar. She sat down on the base of the column, placing a textbook on her lap and unfolding a half-written letter. She scribbled quietly, preparing words to send far away:

“…This really is an incredible city. It’s even larger than the Gray Elves’ capital. The buildings are all tall, and almost all of them are new…

“It’s not as tree-less as I first imagined—though humans often expand their cities by cutting down plants, this city is full of greenery. Most of the trees were planted by the druids living here, and the druid apprentices at the academy have an important practical course caring for the city’s plants…

“The druids here are different from elsewhere. There are many druids, but only a few are the ‘standard druids’ who truly wield magic. Most are alchemists who ‘cast spells’ through potions and magical devices. They’re respected too, especially in the alchemy factories…

“There are people everywhere—Cecilians, folks from the North and my homeland, and Typhon students. The Typhon students stand out here at the Imperial Academy. They always wear the Typhon emblem in the most visible places. Though this sometimes causes some Cecilians to keep their distance or draw unwanted attention, they still do it.

“Everyone here is immersed in knowledge. Learning is the most important thing—above all identities, status, race, or wealth—because no one has the energy to care about anything else. There are so many new things that capture every scholar’s heart. Of course, another reason is that the learning system and exams are very strict. The scholars who teach answer directly to a department in the government. They show no mercy to any student, not even the children of dukes…

“Oh, and mother, those Typhon students I mentioned study very hard. Outside the dormitory, cafeteria, and classrooms, they hardly socialize or go out. That’s part of why they stand out so much here—though everyone works hard, they overdo it. But today I saw the Duke of the North and the Duke of the West’s heirs go greet those Typhon students. They seemed easy to talk to…

“I’m trying to make friends too, though I only have one so far. Her name is Pea. It’s a strange name, but she’s important—her father is the Imperial Navy’s admiral! And Pea has a magical device that can speak for her and sense the environment…

“Oh, and I met an incredible teacher—a pure energy being called Master Kamail. I was startled at first, but don’t worry, mother, I behaved properly…

“I’m doing well here, so don’t worry. And…”

Suddenly, a shadow fell over her. The gray elf girl, who had been writing with her head down, startled and immediately shielded the letter with her hand. She visibly trembled, her smooth gray hair fluffing slightly.

At the same moment, a crisp, somewhat mechanical female voice rang out: “Ah, Meri! Hiding behind the pillar again?”

Meri looked up and saw Pea standing beside her. She visibly relaxed but kept her hand over the letter, replying softly in a delicate voice, “I’m writing a letter…”

Before she could say more, Pea rattled on: “A letter? To whom? Family? The Ogure tribe? Oh, I shouldn’t ask—that’s private. Sorry, just pretend I didn’t say anything. Come to think of it, I haven’t written a letter in ages. The last time was during the Revival Festival… But with the magic web communication, who writes letters anymore? The North Coast is already connected… I wish the Ogure tribe could communicate directly with Cecilia. I heard you’re building the magic web there?”

Pea’s words came in a rapid stream, overwhelming Meri, who couldn’t get a word in until Pea finally paused. Then Meri whispered even more quietly than before, “I’m writing to my mother…”

After a brief pause, she added, “My mother is in charge of building the magic web in the Ogure tribe.”

“Really?” Pea’s eyes widened in surprise, then filled with admiration. “Ah… that makes sense. Your mother is the leader of the Gray Elves and was the first to expand trade and introduce technology with the Western Territories. Even my father admires her. He says the North is full of stubborn rocks, and if those rocks had half your mother’s insight and wisdom, his work there would be at least a hundred times easier…”

“Byron’s mention of ‘stones’ probably isn’t just about ordinary stones…” Meri Whitebloom, the gray elf, whispered softly, but her faint voice was quickly drowned out by the rapid chatter coming from behind Pea.

Still, she showed no sign of frustration or annoyance—she was used to this by now.

Perhaps that was exactly why they had become friends.

…

“Campus life, huh… I have to admit, I’m a little envious.”

Amber sat perched atop the tall wall, gazing out at the courtyard before the castle-like main building of the Imperial Academy. Watching the students immersed in the best years of their lives, she couldn’t help but murmur with a touch of wistfulness.

Her legs dangled over the edge, swinging gently in midair, radiating a relaxed ease.

A shadow flickered beside her, materializing into a bald man with a scar across his face. “Boss, are you thinking of going to school?”

“School? Do I look like someone who can enroll? If I go in, it’ll be to teach!” Amber shot a sharp glance at her deputy. “Cut the nonsense. Get to the point.”

“We’ve already screened the current batch of foreign students. One is definitely a spy, two more are suspects, and the rest are clean,” Scarface Anton replied, immediately sobering up after the reprimand. “We’re monitoring the communications of those three closely. The ‘Magician’ special ops team is working on ways to intervene without alerting them. The other groups of foreign students are fine, including Dana—the one under heavy surveillance. She really is the daughter of a Typhon count, her identity is clean. Her previous contact with Findel Wilde wasn’t premeditated—just a lapse in judgment.”

“Not bad… The Typhons really are here for knowledge. They haven’t been foolish enough to waste valuable academic opportunities on pointless espionage. Keep a close eye on those suspects—whether confirmed or suspected spies. If there’s a chance to turn them, do it. If not, don’t alert the targets; just maintain surveillance. They’ll be valuable assets down the line. We lost some of our operatives in Typhon during the Sleeper evacuation. We need to find ways to make up for those losses…”

Anton nodded. “Understood, boss.”

Amber waved him off, and Anton vanished silently over the wall. She turned her gaze back to the courtyard and sighed softly once more.

“Campus life…”

(End of chapter)