08. I'm Wronged!
Quiros was in a good mood.
It was heartening that more cadets had chosen the humanities department as their major or minor this semester, but what truly delighted him was the presence of a heretic who had thrown down the gauntlet to the Empire's literary establishment.
Alan, a noble who had unveiled a writing style more radical than anyone's—and who had daringly used Kun'Rung as his subject matter, something no one had attempted before. A young author with the talent to stir up not just the imperial literary scene but the capital itself. That was what made Professor Quiros so pleased.
"What's got you grinning from ear to ear today, Professor Quiros?"
As he walked along, a voice called from across the way. Quiros turned to see a striking beauty with golden hair and a hint of dark bridge piercing, wearing a wide-brimmed hat, gazing at him. She was the astrology professor from the magic department.
"Meeting new students is always a pleasure."
"Didn't you call last year's batch a bunch of idiots? Found someone you like this time?"
"Naturally."
"Oh? That's intriguing. A talent captivating the ever-stern Professor Quiros."
"You could start by fixing that habit of yours—speaking so freely to my face, Professor Teia."
"Oops, my bad."
Her hand seemed to glide toward her ample bosom before stopping at her lips. Tapping them with her index finger, Professor Teia smiled.
"I've heard. There's that famous heretic among the new cadets."
"You've heard the name, then."
"Of course. From the Mueller family, no less."
The Sword King's youngest son. That name alone was enough to draw attention. His older brother, Albert Eling von Mueller, and sister, Alice Scarlet von Mueller, already commanded immense prestige at Versa Imperial Academy. It was only natural that Teia would take interest.
"Looks like the Bernhardt Ducal House is keeping an eye on him too."
"We're both among the three great ducal houses, after all."
Teia chuckled softly.
Teia Muronel von Bernhardt. The finest mage from the Bernhardt Ducal House, renowned for its magical lineage, and professor of astrology—the subject with the fewest students at Versa Academy. That she handled astrology, despite her prowess, already marked her as an eccentric. Everyone at the academy knew she acted on whims and interests alone. She'd taken the subject precisely because it left plenty of time for slacking off.
She should be in class right now, by rights.
But few in the magic department chose astrology. Among those majoring in magic, it was dismissed as superstition. Even with magic's mysterious power in open use and knights' Aura treated on par with it.
Quiros clicked his tongue lightly and kept walking.
"Don't pull any funny business. He's in humanities, so no magic classes anyway."
"Astrology's a liberal arts elective in magic. I'm interested in humanities courses myself. I might even take one if a new subject opens up."
"Just don't stir up trouble."
"No worries."
Quiros shook his head slightly and walked away. Watching him go, Teia bit her lip. Chewing on it thoughtfully, she glanced in the direction he'd come from.
"Alan Edgar von Mueller... This could be fun."
At that moment, in the now-empty classroom after class, Alan was breaking into a cold sweat, pinned by Felicia.
It was the classic wall slam. Unable to lay a hand on the princess's body, he was trapped between her arms, sweat pouring down his face.
"How long's it been since I last saw you like this, Alan?"
"...Five years."
Alan sighed inwardly.
Five years ago, at a ball hosted by the Bernhardt Ducal House—one of the three great ducal houses—he'd met Felicia. Back then, he'd bolted the moment he saw her, figuring entanglement with royalty could drag him into who-knows-what.
Who knew she'd enroll at the academy this year?
There was no heads-up on this! If I'd known the princess was coming, I'd have run!
Sure, he'd gotten royally chewed out by Duke Mueller for fleeing back then, but no regrets. Nobles like royalty could pull you into unknown messes. He'd never planned to cozy up to them anyway. Back then, he figured he'd just live modestly and die—no big ambitions, no thoughts of house leadership or the cutthroat sibling rivalries from novels.
I didn't want to get stabbed over it.
Besides, a position in one of the Empire's three great ducal houses came with insane stress. Alan had no desire for that. No rivalry with his family, either—relations stayed smooth. If his father, Duke Mueller, hadn't declared just recently that if he wouldn't wield a sword, he should become a grand master of literature, Alan wouldn't be trapped like this.
Forced to meet her gaze, Alan answered.
"Yes, I wrote it. But novels are fiction, make-believe."
"It felt too vivid for that. Like you'd lived in Kun'Rung yourself."
Alan scratched his cheek.
"Born and raised in the duchy my whole life. Never been to Kun'Rung."
He added that he'd tried tea from Kun'Rung, but that was it.
"Just pure imagination. Please don't read too much into it."
"Hehe, too late for that, Alan. You're already famous. Know how few authors cause a storm with just one volume?"
"How could I not?"
Alan gave a wry smile. The moment that literary titan publicly trashed it, the noise marketing—pure noise—had been a smashing success. He'd anticipated backlash, but not that it'd spill into newspapers.
The so-called literary world was a cartel rotten to the core. The Empire's wouldn't be different.
As Alan opened his mouth to continue, the classroom door swung open.
"Your Highness, time for the next classroom—"
The guard knight and fellow cadet's eyes blazed at the sight of Alan wall-slammed by Felicia.
"Alan Edgar von Mueller! What the hell are you doing to Her Highness?!"
Alan's face crumpled at the knight's reaction.
No, this looks all wrong! I'm the one getting slammed here!
I'm wronged!!