Professor Vale returned to the front of the room, his hands clasped behind his back once more. “Now, are there any other questions before we move on?”
A hand rose from a student near the front. “Professor Vale, what happens if someone disregards etiquette entirely? Refuses to play the game, so to speak?”
The professor’s lips quirked into a faint, humorless smile. “Ah, the idealist’s question. Those who refuse to play the game are not exempt from its rules. They simply become pawns for those who do. In the Empire, ignorance is not bliss — it is vulnerability.” His gaze swept the room. “Remember this: power flows through the channels of etiquette and protocol. If you cannot control the flow, you will be swept away by it.”
Klarion couldn’t help but nod to himself. The professor’s words, though a bit heavy-handed, resonated with his own thoughts since he had been thinking about the content of the class. The rules might seem arbitrary, but they were the framework upon which the Empire — and its nobility — functioned. Without them, the possibility of conflict within the Empire would increase exponentially. Given what he knew about the important empires of Earth’s past, when the leaders of such polities descended into infighting, that was when enemies beyond their borders struck. With how long the Empire he was now a part of seemed to have existed, Klarion could guess that refusing to learn the rules of etiquette for nobility would not just be reckless, it would be suicidal.
“Now, as you all have undoubtedly noticed, the differences between ranks of nobility are not enforced among the students on campus,” Professor Vale continued. “That decision was made long before any of us were born and with good reason. This Academy is not merely a place of learning. It is a crucible. Here, you are tested not just on your knowledge or skills but on your ability to adapt and thrive in a system where your title alone will not shield you.” For a brief moment, Klarion thought that the professor’s gaze landed on him. “The distinction between a scion from an Archducal House and a Knight’s House is irrelevant here. You are all students first and foremost.”
Klarion had noticed what the professor mentioned, and given the lack of surprise from the scions sitting near him, it appeared the majority of the first-years had noticed as well. Yes, the rigid hierarchy of rank being set aside helped explain some of what he had noticed since he had arrived on campus, but he could not hazard a guess as to why the Academy set it up that way in the first place. Thankfully it looked like the professor was about to clarify the reasons.
“The answer is tied to the campus itself: this environment is your last opportunity to prove yourselves before emerging onto the stage of the Empire. The Academy, and everything that happens within it, is watched closely by professors, administrators, and in some rare cases, representatives of the Imperial government itself. Here, your performance — not your rank — determines your future. Those who excel may find themselves rewarded upon graduation. Some may even receive extra years of study, granting them access to advanced training and the chance to be gifted greater support in establishing your own fiefdom once you do graduate.”
That caught Klarion’s attention. A chance to receive greater support? He glanced around the room and saw that he wasn’t the only one intrigued. Several nearby scions leaned forward, their expressions a mixture of eagerness and determination.
“But let me be clear: this opportunity is not given lightly. It is earned. And one of the most significant tests of your worth this year will come at the end of this course. The final assessment in my class,” Professor Vale said, turning back to the chalkboard to write on it, “will take the form of an elaborate event, attended by visiting dignitaries from among the affiliated nobility within this sector of the Empire. Each of these individuals will come from territories currently in the process of integration into the Empire. They will observe, critique, and interact with you directly.” He turned back to the class, setting the chalk down. “Your task will be to navigate this event with poise, grace, and intelligence. You will demonstrate your mastery of what you have learned of etiquette and courtly manners by engaging with your assigned dignitary as a representative of the Empire. Your behavior will reflect not only on yourselves but on your Houses and the Academy as a whole.”
A murmur rippled through the room. Klarion could hear a number of whispered conversations near him, some expressing excitement at the exam, but the majority seemed to be filled with dread. For his own part, he placed himself closer to the second group. The idea of being judged by essentially foreign nobility when he did not yet understand, well, anything really about being a noble himself was daunting. With the professor’s heavy hint on how important this exam would be for receiving additional help from the Empire upon graduation, however, Klarion resolved that he would approach this course with the same diligence that he devoted to his other classes. Even though he still wasn’t looking forward to memorizing all the pomp and ceremony Etiquette and Courtly Manners would entail.
Professor Vale raised a hand, signaling for silence. “Let me warn those of you who are already considering slacking off in this class. To do badly in this assessment is to fail the course, but unlike the other classes you are taking this first year, the consequences of doing extremely badly in my class will invite consequences far beyond simple academic failure. You have been warned.”
If it was possible, the classroom grew even more still. Even the most arrogant scions seemed cowed by the professor’s words. Klarion unconsciously clenched his jaw as he saw Hector raise his hand to ask a question.
“Yes, Scion Draven?”
“Could you clarify examples of these consequences, Professor?”
Professor Vale nodded. “There are dignitaries who take insults, intentional or not, as personal affronts,” he explained. “For example, should you blunder so catastrophically that they feel their honor has been slighted, they may invoke the right to a duel.”
A loud thud came from a table next to Klarion, everyone in the class, including the professor, turned to look at the young dwarven scion of a Knight’s House struggling to right his chair. If his face were any redder, it would likely have caught fire. Once back in his seat, the dwarf stared down at the table at which he sat, almost as if he hoped that ignoring the gazes of the rest of the class would end his humiliation sooner.
“This is not a warning meant to scare you,” Professor Vale said once attention returned to him. His voice was softer but no less serious. “It is simply meant to be a reminder of the world you are preparing to enter. As scions of noble Houses, your words and actions carry weight. A single misstep can have far-reaching consequences, so it is better to prepare now than slack off in this class. Now, let me go over this course’s expectations and we will be finished for the day.”
Professor Vale stepped back to the chalkboard, erasing the circles he had drawn earlier, then writing out a long list of information that could easily fill several pages of notes. According to the professor, everyone in his class was to spend the coming months immersing themselves in the customs and protocols of both the Empire and several of the more important affiliated territories in the nearby sector of the Empire. As the lines on the board grew ever longer, Klarion struggled to prevent his eyes from glazing over. Reading assignments would cover everything from proper greetings to the intricacies of seating arrangements at formal events. Practical exercises would include mock introductions, staged disputes, and even role-playing scenarios to simulate interactions with foreign dignitaries of similar backgrounds to those who would be participating in the final exam. There was even a short list of skills that Professor Vale expected all students to unlock by the end of the course, without which additional tutoring would be required, as without them the scion would not be able to take certain required courses in the second year.
“You will also be expected to practice regularly,” Professor Vale added, setting the chalk back down. “Etiquette is not something you can master through theory and reading alone. It requires repetition, observation, and feedback. Use your peers, your bodyguards, and even your household staff if necessary. The more you practice, the more natural it will become.”
The professor’s gaze swept the room one last time. “I will say this once more: your performance in this course is not just about your grade. It is about your future. Take this seriously, or you will regret it. Now, are there any final questions?”
The room remained silent, a number of scions looking around the room to see if anyone was about to ask another question. When no one raised a hand, Professor Vale clapped once, bringing everyone’s attention back to him at the front.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
“Very well, you are all dismissed. Make sure you are on time for the next session for the beginning of practicing proper greetings to those of various ranks and positions.” He fixed his eyes on Klarion as he said this. Thankfully the professor’s attention shifted away quickly. “Have a good day and I will see you all next week.”
With the lecture coming to an end, the majority of his fellow scions rushed to gather their things to leave. Klarion, however, gathered his things slowly, intentionally lagging behind the others to avoid unnecessary interactions. Yet, he could sense several heavy stares lingering on him. Slowing still further, he glanced around the room to see who was watching him. Chadwick and Hector lingered by the wall near the door, looking in his direction, clearly waiting for him to leave. Looks like he wasn’t able to avoid a confrontation after all. He stood with a grunt. Better to just get this over with.
As Klarion made his way toward the door, Chadwick stepped away from the wall with a deliberate stride, Hector just behind him. The young human scion’s lips curled into a sneer as he stopped just short of bumping into Klarion. If he had been hoping to intimidate Klarion, he had completely failed. Chadwick was a lot smaller than the Dungeon Boss after all.
Chadwick’s gaze raked over Klarion with open disdain, his voice sharp and mocking as he spoke. “I don’t know how you managed to crawl out of that Dungeon alive,” the sneering scion said, voice dripping with venom. “But don’t think for a moment you’ll be so lucky next time. House Blacksword is a relic of the past, and it is only a matter of time before you will exist only in the Academy records of those students who suffered a tragic accident.” Without waiting for a response, Chadwick turned on his heel and strode out of the room, calling over his shoulder as he did. “Count the days Blacksword. I am.”
Klarion clenched his fists but resisted the urge to call after Chadwick with some parting insult. No, words were useless with someone like him — better to conserve his energy to prepare for the battles that truly mattered. He already had a few ideas to remove the threat of that arrogant bastard, but he wouldn’t be taking any steps before he could speak with Valdre and Redrek.
As Klarion took a steadying breath, Hector remained lingering near the doorway, hesitating. Unlike Chadwick’s open hostility, Klarion was surprised to see Hector’s expression was one of muted conflict. He looked at Klarion for a long moment before speaking, his voice low and even.
“I won’t threaten you,” Hector began, his tone devoid of the malice that had laced Chadwick’s words. “What I did, I did for my family. I won’t apologize for it, but I won’t claim to feel good about it either.”
Klarion’s gaze narrowed, but he held his tongue. He could hear the sincerity in Hector’s voice, though it did little to quell the bitterness roiling in his chest. He had thought the scion from House Draven could become a friend, but instead, he had simply used the opening Klarion had given him to drive a blade deeper into his back. If Hatsune had died down in the Dungeon, Klarion’s hands would already be around his neck.
Hector sighed at the rage in Klarion’s eyes, then began rubbing the back of his neck as though searching for the right words. “The cards are stacked against you, Blacksword. Whether it’s Chadwick or a certain someone else higher up in the hierarchy of the nobility, they’ll make sure you’re removed from the Academy one way or another. You’re a threat, and people like us don’t let threats linger.”
Klarion continued to stare into Hector’s eyes, the weight of the unspoken challenge between them palpable. For a moment, he considered saying something — anything — but Hector turned and walked out of the room before Klarion could form the words. With his departure, Klarion was left alone in the empty classroom.
He slammed a fist down against a nearby table, the loud smack accompanied by an alarming creaking. Chadwick’s arrogance, Hector’s reluctant honesty — both had hit nerves he didn’t care to acknowledge. Scions like Chadwick saw him as a problem to be eliminated, and even scions like Hector, despite their apparent guilt, would still act against him if it meant securing their House’s place in the hierarchy. Whatever was going on with House Blacksword had apparently fueled ambitions to act against him.
But Klarion wasn’t about to roll over. He’d already fought too hard to get here, endured too much to let a pack of entitled nobles dictate his fate. If they thought he would be easy to remove, they were in for a rude awakening. Klarion wasn’t vicious by nature. He would try to figure out a way to discourage what happened in the Dungeon, or similar actions by his enemies, from happening again. But if they kept coming, he wouldn’t hesitate to put his enemies in the ground. From what Alesin and Rolfun had said, he had the potential to become an elite among elites within the Empire.
It was time he started acting like it.
Composure restored, Klarion left the classroom to join the small groups of scions walking up and down the hall. The corridors of the Lecture Hall were alive with the steady hum of conversation and laughter, students and bodyguards alike moving between classes or leaving for the day. If Klarion hadn’t known better, it would have felt like any number of college campuses back on Earth.
As he made his way down the hall, his thoughts shifted to Hatsune. He had asked her to seek out Garran and Kael, hoping to set up a meeting time with the goal of forming some semblance of a strategy for dealing with the growing web of threats around him. As he navigated the halls, his eyes scanned the crowd for any sign of the Leporine woman. Though it had only been a few days, it already felt strange not to have her by his side. Hopefully, she’d had better luck with Garrana and Kael than he had with the day so far.
Finally, near the entrance he had arrived through earlier this morning, he spotted her. Hatsune was leaning against the wall, her ears twitching as she spoke with a tall, broad-shouldered man in heavy armor that Klarion immediately recognized as Garran. A moment later, Klarion saw a shadow elf with a lithe frame and sharp features standing nearby. Looks like she had found Kael as well. All three bodyguards carried themselves with quiet confidence, their postures relaxed but their eyes alert to potential threats.
Hatsune turned as Klarion approached, her expression softening into a smile. “You’re done with class already?”
“Yes, though I was right about being worried about it. I’ll fill you in later,” Klarion replied. “Did you already fill them in?”
Hatsune nodded, gesturing toward the other two bodyguards. “Garran and Kael were kind enough to hear me out. They think that both of their scions would be willing to meet over dinner, but they can’t promise without talking to them. Both Valdre and Redrek are still in class.”
“Thank you both for taking the time to listen to Hatsune,” Klarion began.
Garran nodded, his deep voice steady. “We’re here to do more than just protect our scion’s person. If there’s a threat that might concern our charges, we need to know about it. Hatsune explained the situation clearly. Chadwick and his allies overstepped.”
Kael scoffed, a smirk widening on his face. “Overstepped is putting it mildly. Tossing you both into a Dungeon as a way to ‘settle’ things is amateurish and reckless. Dangerous, yes, but it speaks more to their desperation than competence. Makes one wonder what their next steps will be, given that you both survived.”
Klarion’s expression darkened. “That’s what worries me. Chadwick and the others won’t take this lying down. I’d rather be prepared than caught off-guard again. To do so, I would like to talk with Valdre and Redrek about getting their help.”
Garran crossed his arms, armored gauntlets clinking softly. “I respect that approach. Valdre will likely agree. He’s not one for unnecessary risks, and he understands the value of coordinated efforts.”
Kael chimed in, his tone was more casual but no less serious. “Redrek’s no fool either. He doesn’t trust most of the scions in your year as far as he could throw them — which, given his size, isn’t far. If he sees value in working together, he’ll be on board.” The shadow elf chewed his lip for a moment before he continued, “I’ll obey his commands, but for my part, I hope you both can come to an agreement. To be honest, I’m worried how this year will end if he cannot find more allies.”
That sounded worrying. Though he still did not know Redrek that well, the fact that his bodyguard was overtly hinting at some potential threat to his charge to a scion he didn’t know very well was concerning, to say the least. “Any threat in particular?”
Kael shook his head. “None that I care to speak of. Better that you ask Redrek yourself.”
“Alright, I’ll bring it up next time I see him,” Klarion said. “For now, thank you for talking with them about meeting. If they are open to talking about what happened, we’ll meet at The Hearth & Ember tonight for dinner. It’s public enough place we won’t draw suspicion, but private enough we can still talk freely.”
Garran inclined his head again. “Understood. I’ll do my best to encourage Valdre to be there.”
Kael pushed off the wall, giving a casual salute. “Same here. Redrek’s got a soft spot for that dwarf’s cooking, so it shouldn’t take much convincing.”
“Excellent, thank you both,” Klarion said. That was a load off his mind. Hopefully, they would both come tonight and he could get their help. “Now, in the meantime, there is something I need to take care of. We’ll meet you all at The Hearth & Ember later.”
With the other bodyguards departing to meet their scions outside their respective classrooms, Klarion turned to Hatsune who appeared to want to ask a question.
“Yes?” he asked as he strode over to the entrance of the building.
“Given how important this is, why not go directly to The Hearth & Ember now?” Hatsune asked, following behind him.
“Because this isn’t just about me,” Klarion said, glancing back at Hatsune. “Valdre and Redrek are sticking their necks out by associating with me. They deserve to know exactly what they’re walking into if they decide to help. So before we talk, I want to go back to the Central Archives and use some of my Coins of Knowledge to get some information on potential classes we might pursue, and more importantly, exactly what is happening with House Blacksword. I don’t want to go into this blind. I owe them that much at least.”
“Alright,” Hatsune reached past him to open the door and led him outside. “Let’s head to the Central Archives then.”