Episode-214

Words : 1482 Updated : Sep 29th, 2025

Chapter: 427 Lloyd felt a familiar, cold knot tighten in his stomach. He had known this was coming. He had prepared for it. But the sheer, unapologetic force of her disdain, the icy contempt radiating from her, was even more potent up close. He schooled his features into a mask of polite, professional neutrality, offering a shallow, respectful bow. “Your Highness,” he greeted, his own voice calm, level. “A pleasure to see you. I was not aware you would be gracing us with your presence today.” “I am the President of the Student Council,” she replied, her tone sharp, as if explaining something to a particularly slow child. “It is my duty to oversee all aspects of student life and academic integrity at this Academy. That includes,” her icy-blue eyes narrowed fractionally, “personally auditing the progress of any new, and particularly... unconventional... educational initiatives sanctioned by the Crown.” The message was clear. I am here to watch you. I am here to judge you. And I am waiting for you to fail. She then completely dismissed him, turning her attention to the last, terrified figure still hovering near the back of the classroom. Airin. “Scholar Airin,” the Princess commanded, her voice, while still firm, losing some of its icy contempt, softening into a tone of stern, almost proprietary, concern. “A word, if you please.” Airin, who had been trying to shrink into the very stonework of the wall since the Princess’s arrival, flinched as if struck. She looked up, her face pale, her eyes wide with a familiar, terrified awe. She looked from the imposing, regal figure of her patroness to the calm, unreadable face of the professor who looked like her dead... friend. She was trapped between two overwhelming, and deeply confusing, forces. “Y-yes, Your Highness,” she stammered, dropping into a deep, trembling curtsy. Isabella beckoned her forward with a sharp, almost impatient, gesture. “Come here, sister.” Trembling, her gaze fixed on the floor, Airin scurried forward, stopping a respectful, almost fearful, distance from the Princess. Isabella looked down at her, her expression a complex mixture of regal responsibility and a kind of fierce, protective frustration. “I trust your first day has been... acceptable?” she asked, her gaze flickering for a fraction of a second towards Lloyd, a silent, pointed accusation in the glance. “You have not been subjected to any... undue distress? Or any... inappropriate behavior?” The implication was a poisoned dart, aimed directly, and very publicly, at Lloyd. Airin stared at the floor, her mind a whirlwind of confusion. Inappropriate behavior? Undue distress? She thought of the market, of the lord’s strange, terrifying, weeping breakdown. Was that what the Princess meant? She thought of today’s class, of the same lord’s calm, brilliant, and utterly baffling, lecture. She didn’t know what to say. The truth was too strange, too complicated, to possibly explain. “N-no, Your Highness,” she mumbled, her voice barely a whisper. “The lesson was... it was very... interesting.” Isabella’s eyes narrowed, clearly not the answer she had been expecting. She studied Airin for a moment longer, her gaze sharp, probing. “See that you apply yourself, Scholar,” she said finally, her voice a stern, final command. “You are here on my authority. You represent the potential of this scholarship. Do not disappoint me.” She paused, then added, her voice dropping, a clear, unmistakable warning. “And if you experience any difficulties, any... unwelcome attentions... from anyone at this Academy, regardless of their station... you are to report it to me. Directly. Immediately. Am I understood?” “Yes, Your Highness,” Airin whispered, nodding vigorously, still not daring to look up. “Good,” Isabella said, a note of finality in her tone. She dismissed Airin with a flick of her hand, then turned her full, undivided, and distinctly hostile, attention back to Lloyd. The unscheduled audit was over. The conversation with her sponsored student was concluded. And now, the true purpose of her visit was about to begin. The declaration of war. --- Chapter: 428 The last of the other students, Borin and Pip, had finally, reluctantly, shuffled out of the classroom, their curiosity about the unfolding drama warring with their ingrained fear of royal displeasure. They left a vacuum of silence in their wake, a heavy, charged quiet that was filled only by the low, distant hum of the Academy grounds and the almost palpable tension between the three figures remaining in the room. Lloyd stood by his lectern, a mask of calm, professional neutrality firmly in place. Princess Isabella stood near the center of the room, a pillar of icy, regal authority, her arms crossed, her pale blue eyes fixed on him with a look of undisguised, aristocratic disdain. Captain Eva, her silent shadow, remained by the door, a statue of steel and unwavering loyalty. Isabella let the silence stretch for a long, deliberate moment, a classic power play, a way of establishing dominance, of making him wait, of reinforcing the vast, unbridgeable chasm of status between them. She was a Princess of the blood, a warrior of renown, the President of the Student Council. He was, in her eyes, a disgraced former student, a social embarrassment, and a man of questionable character who had been inexplicably, and unsuitably, elevated to a position he did not deserve. Lloyd, however, did not fidget. He did not look away. He simply met her cold gaze with a quiet, steady one of his own, his eighty years of experience granting him a patience, a stillness, that she could not possibly comprehend. He had faced down men with guns, with bombs, with armies. A haughty, angry princess, however formidable, did not intimidate him. Annoy him, yes. Complicate his life, certainly. But intimidate him? No. His unwavering calm, his refusal to be cowed by her silent, regal pressure, seemed to irritate her further. A faint, almost imperceptible, tightening of her jaw was the only outward sign. Finally, she spoke, her voice not loud, but carrying a chilling, precise clarity that was as sharp and cold as a shard of glacier ice. “So,” she began, her tone a masterpiece of condescending politeness, “Professor Ferrum.” She savored the title, making it sound like an insult. “A remarkable, and I must say, deeply... perplexing... appointment. One must wonder at the King’s reasoning.” “His Majesty works in ways that are, I am sure, far beyond the comprehension of mere subjects like myself, Your Highness,” Lloyd replied, his own voice perfectly level, a subtle, respectful echo of her own formal tone. He was not going to give her the satisfaction of a defensive or emotional response. He would meet her ice with his own brand of calm, unshakeable stone. Isabella’s lips thinned. His refusal to be drawn, his calm deflection, clearly irked her. She abandoned the pretense of polite inquiry and moved to a more direct attack, her words still veiled in courtly language, but their intent as sharp and pointed as a stiletto. “Indeed,” she said, taking a slow, deliberate step closer. “The King’s wisdom is absolute. Which is why it is our duty, as his loyal subjects, and particularly as leaders within this Academy, to ensure that his... more unconventional... initiatives are not undermined. To ensure that the... integrity... of this institution is maintained.” She stopped a few paces from him, her icy-blue eyes narrowing. “Which brings me to the matter of Scholar Airin.” Lloyd kept his expression perfectly neutral, though he thought inwardly, the princess already knew this issue. Here it comes. “She is a commoner, Professor,” Isabella stated, her voice dripping with a kind of protective, aristocratic noblesse oblige. “A girl of immense talent, yes, but also of immense vulnerability. She is unaccustomed to our world, to its pressures, to its... protocols. She is a delicate, rare flower, transplanted into a garden of ancient, powerful oaks. It is my personal, and official, duty to ensure that she is not... trampled.” Her gaze was a physical blow, a direct, pointed accusation. “It has come to my attention,” she continued, her voice becoming even colder, “that she was recently the subject of a rather... distressing... public incident. An incident involving a nobleman behaving with a shocking lack of emotional control and... propriety. An incident that caused her significant fear and public humiliation.” She didn’t need to say his name. The accusation was as clear as the enchanted glass in the King’s study. “Such behavior, Professor Ferrum,” she said, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper, “is unbecoming of any nobleman. But for a member of the faculty of this Academy, a man tasked with the guidance and protection of our students, to be the source of such distress... it is more than just unseemly. It is unacceptable.”

Episode-214

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