The morning had gone by quickly, leaving Klarion with little time to think, let alone plan. He had hoped to return to Blacksword Manor, if only briefly before class, in order to gather his thoughts and properly prepare for the day ahead. While equal parts worried and angry over what Hector and the other scions had attempted to do, he knew that right now was not the time to lash out at his enemies. No, he would have to be deliberate and properly prepared, which would require figuring out exactly who had acted against him yesterday. Beyond Hector, there had been several other scions and their bodyguards, but only a wiry human woman and a burly human man who wielded an axe stood out in his memory. There had been at least two or three more, and he wanted to know exactly who they were before he began planning his next moves. He was going to need some help tracking down this information, but unfortunately, he could trust very few people. Perhaps Valdre and Redrek would be willing to help?


    Klarion glanced over at Hatsune, who kept pace beside him with an air of quiet determination. The night in the Academy Infirmary had been good for her, though he couldn’t help but feel renewed guilt as he studied her. Hatsune had been through a lot in a very short time — dragged into his problems, forced to face dangers no bodyguard should have to endure so early into their time at the Academy. Yet, seeing her now, calmer and more collected, filled him with relief. He had been worried that yesterday would have a larger impact on her than it appeared it did.


    “Feeling better this morning?” Klarion asked, breaking the silence as they continued in the direction of the building where his Etiquette and Courtly Manners class was going to be held.


    Hatsune glanced at him, her expression softening. “I am. The healers at the Infirmary were excellent, and the quiet was… welcome.”


    “Yeah, the quiet,” Klarion said, a wry smile crossing his face as he looked around. “Not much of that in the Academy.”


    The campus bustled with activity around them, the wide cobblestone pathways crowded with scions, their bodyguards, and even some attendants were hurrying to their own destinations. Klarion noted the flashes of house crests embroidered on school uniforms, but he pushed down the instinctive tension that he felt upon seeing them. He didn’t recognize any of the scions around him, and he had to have some faith that his enemies would continue to pursue less overt attacks against him. Otherwise, they would have rushed him last night.


    No, today he was going to set aside who was who or which alliances might be forming in the whispered conversations around him. He could sort that out later, after class. Assuming Valdre and Redrek wanted to meet.


    Klarion stepped to the side, dodging a collision with a group of rushing nobles.


    “Watch your step!” one human scion snapped at Klarion, as he rushed past. The man’s silver-haired bodyguard shot a glare at Klarion but said nothing. Klarion repressed a retort, not wanting to ruin the good mood that he had begun to feel since leaving the Infirmary with Hatsune. With her close beside him, he gradually made his way off to the side of the street they were on, making way for those rushing down the middle. He wanted to avoid drawing as much unnecessary attention today as he could.


    “No,” Hatsune said, leaning in close, a smile on her face. “Not much quiet at all.”


    Soon he was able to find a side street that had far less people around. No longer so concerned with dodging rushing scions, his thoughts wandered to what little he knew about Etiquette and Courtly Manners. What he understood about it — what he could claim to know with confidence — could fill the size of a thimble at best.


    From what he had gathered, the class was almost a guide to the intricate webs of interactions with nobility. Given everything he experienced so far, and how it appeared the likelihood of violence between scions was high, he expected it was going to be a bit more than simply learning how to bow properly or knowing which utensil to use at a banquet. Perhaps if he thought about training in behavior as a weapon? That did help a bit actually. If he approached the class as if he was being taught how to wield words, glances, and gestures with as much precision as the greatsword he had been learning how to use it would help to make the process of learning these things more bearable.


    Even if it didn’t, he had no real choice about attending the course. As much as he was not looking forward to it, he recognized that his high position within the ranks of the scions here at the Academy meant that he needed to understand the subtleties of navigating high society, where a slight misstep in speech or posture could be interpreted as an insult or a challenge. Otherwise, his chances of surviving the Imperial Academy to save his family and friends back on Earth would be effectively zero.


    Hopefully, it wouldn’t take him to long to get a handle on at least the basics.


    By the time they reached the Lecture Hall that held the first-year classes for Etiquette and Courtly Manners, there were no other scions in sight outside. Even though he knew he was already late to class, Klarion paused before the side entrance of the building, turning to Hatsune.


    “While I’m busy in class, see if you can find Garren or Kael,” he said. “I don’t know yet if Valdre or Redrek are in this class with me, so on the chance they are not, I want you to approach either of their bodyguards to see if they would be open to a meeting later.”


    Hatsune tilted her head, her long ears shifting about as she kept her guard up. “You sure about this? What if they’re not interested?”


    “You have my permission to drop some hints about last night if necessary. They should understand the importance of meeting with that,” Klarion replied. He hesitated a moment before adding, “And stay cautious. I’m assuming we are in the clear so long as we are in public places on campus or in class, but I don’t know yet how far the other scions will go after what happened in the Dungeon.”


    Hatsune nodded. “Got it. I’ll do my best to have good news for you after class.”


    As soon as Klarion opened the side door and entered, Hatsune right beside him, her eyes darting around, looking for potential threats. When it was clear the hallway on the way to his class was empty, she turned and left for the other side of the building, her footsteps quickly fading away. Perhaps she already had an idea for where to find his friends’ bodyguards.


    Moments later he was outside room 113, where the class was being held. Klarion hesitated by the door, his fingers brushing the brass of the handle. He could already hear the Professor speaking inside, though it was muffled. While he hated being late, the only other option to risking the ire of the Professor was to skip class entirely. With it being the first session, there was no way he was going to do that. Steeling himself, he pushed the door open.


    The sight that greeted him made him pause just as he entered the classroom. Designed to resemble a luxurious tea parlor more than a place of learning, ornate furniture filled the room — high-backed chairs upholstered in velvet, intricately carved tables, and softly glowing chandeliers that cast a warm, golden light from where they hung along the vaulted ceiling. The table nearest the door afforded him a view of delicate porcelain teacups on saucers for each and every place setting, and the faint aroma of jasmine and bergamot hung in the air. Nearly every table was filled with scions.


    All eyes turned toward Klarion as he stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him. Some wore expressions of mild curiosity, while others shifted to outright annoyance. A few had expressions of outright shock, as if they hadn’t expected Klarion to show up to class at all today. Or perhaps ever. Chadwick he expected, but when he recognized one among those as the wiry human woman from the previous night, he did his best to memorize the faces and crests on the uniforms of those scions scattered around the room. He suspected they were among those who had ambushed him yesterday.


    “And who might this latecomer be?”


    Turning, Klarion saw a thin man with graying hair combed neatly back standing at the head of the room. His impeccably tailored suit gave him the air of a butler who had long served a noble house. His eyes, however, betrayed no warmth. That made sense, given that Klarion had just interrupted his opening remarks in a class based on learning proper etiquette.


    Klarion straightened, his jaw still tight from having seen some of those who had attempted to assassinate him at the Dungeon. He firmly pushed his anger aside. Now was not the time. “Klarion Blacksword, sir. My apologies for being late.”Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    The professor raised an eyebrow, unable to control the corner of his mouth twitching in displeasure. “Apologies, indeed. The Scion of House Blacksword sees fit to arrive late to his very first session in Etiquette and Courtly Manners. A poor start, to say the least. Do you think punctuality is optional, young man?”


    “No, sir,” Klarion replied, keeping his voice steady despite the feeling of heat rising to his face.


    “Then perhaps you should demonstrate that belief by arriving on time in the future,” the professor snapped. “Now, take your seat. Quietly.”


    Klarion inclined his head slightly and moved toward an empty table near the back. As he walked, he felt the weight of the other scions’ gazes. Halfway to his seat, he recognized Hector sitting at a table with Chadwick. The scion he thought might have become his third friend among the nobility on campus wore a shocked expression that quickly turned into one filled with chagrin as they made eye contact. Klarion’s eyes shifted to the left, where Chadwick glared at him with unrestrained fury. Chadwick’s hands gripped the edges of his table, his knuckles white. His eyes burned with a hatred so intense that Klarion could almost feel it as he made his way to his seat. It was hard, but Klarion directed a faint smirk at his enemy, knowing that it would only make him angrier. The sound of the wood of the table creaking under his grip confirmed his guess, and Klarion felt a tiny bit better at the fact he couldn’t act against the other scion yet. If Chadwick wanted him dead, he’d have to try harder.


    As Klarion slid into his chair, he heard several mocking remarks, just loud enough for him to pick up without the professor overhearing.


    “Late to class,” someone muttered to his left. “I thought those of the Archducal Houses were supposed to be the pinnacle of the nobility?”


    “Perhaps punctuality and decorum don’t matter to a House in danger of collapse,” whispered another in response.


    “He probably spent all morning dragging himself out of whatever hole he crawled into after last night,” a voice muttered from the right side of the room.


    Klarion tuned out the rest of the muttering, his face schooled into impassivity, though his hands clenched into fists beneath the table. He wanted to defend himself, to tell the entire class that he had been late because several scions in the room had tried to make sure he never got a chance to attend in the first place. But he had no idea what the reaction to those accusations might be. In a perfect world, there would be a quick investigation, and once proof was found, his attackers would be punished or expelled. He wasn’t that naive, though. Even back on Earth, he had heard of trials where members of the various gangs in Volksturm had gotten off despite being guilty. Add in the fact that his fellow students here were actual nobility, and he had suspicions that, if he wanted justice, he would have to figure out a way to handle things himself. He already had a few ideas, but hopefully, Valdre and Redrek would be willing to help.


    The professor’s voice cut through the rising whispers like a blade. Apparently, he had heard everything but had been hoping for the class to quiet down before continuing. “Enough. I will not allow this class to dissolve into idle speculation and gossip.”


    The room fell silent, and Klarion exhaled slowly, grateful for the reprieve and hopeful that the coming lesson would end the attention he was receiving.


    “I am Professor Aldren Vale,” the man announced. “This course, as you should already know, will prepare you for the realities of noble society. Proper behavior, social graces, and diplomatic protocol are not optional for you. They are necessities, and I expect every scion here to treat this instruction with the seriousness it demands.”


    Professor Vale’s gaze swept over the room, lingering briefly on each student. “Failure to adhere to my standards will reflect poorly not only on yourselves but on your Houses as well. Keep that in mind.” He turned back to the board behind him, still speaking to the class as he began writing things down. “As I was saying before being so rudely interrupted, this course will focus on the fundamental skills of noble decorum: proper introductions, conversational dynamics, seating arrangements, and, most importantly, reading the unspoken nuances of courtly interactions in and beyond our Empire.”


    He began to pass the room, his hands clasped behind his back, looking out over the scions of his class. “Etiquette and courtly manners are not just about politeness or tradition. They are about power. They are about navigating the labyrinth of noble society with grace and poise, ensuring you do not insult an ally or provoke a rival unintentionally. You are scions of noble houses, the future leaders and representatives of this region of the Empire. If you can’t master these skills, you will not only jeopardize yourselves but also the standing of your house.”


    A hand shot up from a student near the center of the room. It belonged to a lanky young man with sharp features in the uniform of a viscounty and a faint smirk that suggested he wasn’t taking what Professor Vale was saying too seriously.


    “Yes, Scion Tarlis?” Professor Vale said, his tone making it clear he had already anticipated someone asking a question at this point.


    “Why?” Tarlis asked, his smirk widening. “Why should we waste time on this… pomp and ceremony? Our Empire, and every other political entity I have been tutored on, are centered around the reality that the strong will rule. So wouldn’t it be easier just to assert dominance? If I’m stronger than someone, why should I bother with all this nonsense?”


    A few murmurs of agreement rippled through the class, though Klarion noticed the sounds were coming from those who appeared to be from higher-ranking Houses. Many others, especially those from families of knights had disapproving looks on their faces. Klarion leaned back in his chair, curious to hear how the Professor would hand the question.


    For his part, Professor Vale did not seem offended. Instead, he walked back to the board at the front of the room and picked up a piece of chalk. “Though I would have stated it differently, you still ask an important question,” he said smoothly. “Let me explain with a diagram.”


    The professor began to draw five concentric circles, each one smaller than the last, until the center held a single solid dot. He labeled the circles as he went, speaking as he wrote.


    “The circles represent the layers of nobility within the Empire, as well as those with whom you may well interact outside of it. There are various more formal names for each, but for the sake of brevity, as this is a course for first-years, I will give the more common term associated with each. From the outermost circle to the center, they are: Foreign Nobility, Affiliated Nobility, Integrated Nobility, Imperial Nobility, and the Core Imperial Family.”


    Professor Vale turned back to the class, tapping the chalk against the outermost circle. “Foreign Nobility. These are the various types of rulers of the political entities outside of the Empire’s borders. Their titles and customs may differ greatly from our own. Diplomacy with them often involves navigating unfamiliar protocols, and a misstep could easily lead to war or the loss of a potential ally.”


    Moving to the next circle, he said, “Affiliated Nobility. These are nobles whose territories are in the process of integration into the Empire. Their loyalty is often tenuous, their customs a blend of their old ways and the Empire’s own. Their positions are delicate; treating them as equals of the appropriate noble rank can encourage unity with the Empire, but overreach, and they may resist integration that doesn’t come at the edge of a sword.”


    He tapped the third circle. “Integrated Nobility. This is where each of you fall. These are the noble Houses that have been fully incorporated into the Empire’s hierarchy.” Professor Vale shot a stern glance at Tarlis, who wilted under the look. “You may think you’re near the top of the Empire, but you are merely one part of a much larger Imperial system. Understanding your place is critical to your service and your survival. So pay close attention to what I am about to say.”


    His finger moved to the fourth and final circle, significantly smaller than the ones he had already talked about. “Inner Nobility. These are the subordinate Houses and individuals who are descended from one of the seven Imperial Princes in the direct line of succession. Their influence is vast, their power overwhelming, and their expectations exacting. An insult to any one of them can have consequences far beyond what you might imagine.” He looked back over the room of scions, his expression grim. “Invariably such will involve your death or exile.”


    Professor Vale turned back to the board, his finger moving to the central dot. “Finally, there is the Imperial House itself. This is the Emperor and his immediate family, most importantly the Seven Imperial Princes. Here, etiquette is not just a skill — it is all that you can rely upon to ensure your survival. Even a perceived slight against any member of the Imperial House will lead to the ruin of your House, root, and branch. Their favor, on the other hand, can elevate you beyond your wildest dreams.” He idly flicked some chalk dust off his finger. “Thankfully for you all, the chances of coming across a member of the Imperial House this far out from the core of the Empire is basically zero.”


    The professor turned back to face the class. “Now, to address your question, scion Tarlis: why bother with etiquette? Because power is not just physical or magical. It is social. It is political. The strongest sword arm will fail you if you cannot wield influence. A single careless word can undo generations of effort by the ancestors of your House. Understanding the rules of engagement in noble society is how to ensure your strength is not wasted, but instead properly applied.”


    The scions of the room were focused on the professor’s words, save for a few that were rushing to take notes. Klarion could feel the weight of the lecture settling over the class. Even those who had been smirking or whispering earlier seemed far more attentive now.


    Professor Vale paused for a minute to let those taking notes complete what they were writing down. When the scratching of notetaking died off, he continued speaking. “In this course, you will learn to navigate each of these circles with precision. You will learn when to bow, when to speak, and when to remain silent. You will learn the art of making friends without revealing too much and the skill of undermining your rivals without overt hostility.”


    The professor’s words struck a chord with Klarion. He glared at the back of Chadwick’s head. He and his supporters were not just rivals — they were predators, circling, waiting for the next opportunity to strike. He needed to be smarter, more cunning. He needed to master each and every skill he could, not just to survive, but to turn the tables on those who sought to destroy him. If they wanted a fight, he would give them one — but on his terms, not theirs.