"…and with the assistance of the current Emperor, this place has attained a prestige never before known. The learning of scholars has flourished, and the number of graduates has increased markedly,"
Reas explained, her voice low and careful, as though speaking in reverence for the halls themselves. Ett nodded in quiet attention, absorbing each word with a mix of curiosity and mild impatience.
"What do you think of the Emperor?" she asked abruptly, her tone light yet probing, as though testing the water for an honest reflection.
Reas blinked, a faint, awkward smile tugging at her lips. "The Emperor?"
"I think he is cold, and rather rude," Ett declared, bluntly, without hesitation.
"Ah—shh! What if someone hears you?" Reas hissed, glancing around as though walls themselves had ears.
"Is it not the truth?" Ett countered sharply. She leaned back slightly, amused at the visible tension her words caused. If she were to suppress her thoughts, how could she ever discern what she truly thought of Guren?
"He is also a tyrant, arrogant and unwilling to meet his subjects." Reas' shoulders stiffened, a sense of imminent danger prickling her spine.
It was as though a guillotine had been poised silently behind her. Luckily, they had arrived at the exclusive resting room reserved for the Froiz daughter, and no one else occupied the corridor. Reas wasted no time, opening the door and ushering Ett inside before securing the lock behind them.
"Young Lady, you should not speak so freely. Eyes and ears are everywhere," Reas warned, her tone more beseeching than stern.
Ett folded her arms, tilting her head with a mischievous gleam. "It is but the truth."
Reas' lips pressed into a thin line. "There is a time and place for honesty, Young Lady."
"Do you not agree?" Ett leaned forward, her voice playful yet earnest, pressing the point. She reveled in the thrill of subverting the expected decorum, in seeing the reactions of those who clung to protocol like armor.
The palace had always been her stage, but here, amid the Academy's quieter, more intimate halls, she could test the bounds of propriety.
Reas hesitated, then murmured reluctantly, "The Emperor is…handsomely handsome."
Ett's cheeks warmed instantly. Yes, indeed, he was. Handsome in that precise, commanding way that drew respect and fear in equal measure. She could almost hear her own heartbeat over the absurdity of blush and thought, "Ehem…wait, you have seen him?"
"Ah? Ah! N-No, it was mentioned by someone I know." The hesitation was almost comical. Reas was clearly not made for deceit; her fluster betrayed her immediately.
Ett suppressed a laugh. All the attendees at the banquet were of the highest nobility, and only those favored had glimpsed the Emperor. She understood, then, the mixture of humility and concealment.
"Well then, you must have seen him yourself," Ett prodded, feigning sympathy with a delicate mask.
"No. Not exactly like that…" Reas' voice faltered.
"It is known," Ett said softly, coaxing the truth from her.
"Well, the Emperor is not so terrible," came the reluctant admission.
Ett arched an eyebrow, amused. "You are flattering him."
"S-Suck…suck…" Reas faltered, nearly collapsing inward with embarrassment.
As the adopted daughter of the Archduke, Reas' candor was startling. Ett allowed herself a private smirk. She could almost imagine the Archduke's own expressions at witnessing such frankness.
"I do not deliberately flatter our Emperor, Young Lady. It is but the truth," Reas said, regaining some composure. "Though he is harsh and rarely meets his subjects, it is normal for an Adiand sovereign. He is admirable; young though he is, he commands with precision and oversees the troops with competence. In his two years of rule, he has effected many improvements."
"That is all?" Ett asked, feigning disappointment.
"Indeed," Reas said, calm now, though faintly indignant. "He is also impartial, and as long as one proves useful, he values talent over title. The presence of skilled individuals strengthens the empire, and while he may seem tyrannical, it does not harm the subjects unduly. The recent Beggar Street incident, for instance, demonstrates his tolerance of illicit trade for pragmatic reasons."
Ett's lips twitched. "Aren't slaves forbidden?"
Reas' eyes darted away. "Ah…that. It has occurred for generations, particularly during the festival. Slaves may serve as spies or assistants in covert operations, under careful contracts. Their existence, while unpleasant, is regulated."
Ett absorbed this with a faint nod, impressed by the strategic depth. The use of human intelligence in such a subtle manner reflected a mind that considered long-term stability over morality alone.
"Younger?" Reas asked suddenly, catching Ett off guard.
"Nothing," Ett replied casually, turning to rest upon the edge of the bed, the exhaustion of constant movement settling heavily upon her small frame.
"Rest here, Young Lady. When it nears time for the study, I shall call you," Reas said, retreating politely.
"Mmmm," Ett muttered, collapsing onto the soft linens. Social interaction had never been her pleasure, and today's exertions—physical, mental, and social—had drained her entirely.
The hours passed, and soon Raes entered, carrying herself with the quiet dignity expected of a Dean's aide.
"Honored Provost, Young Miss Ettna rests soundly in the chamber. She appears quite fatigued."
Ett stirred slowly, blinking into the soft light. "Oh."
Raes knelt to smooth a stray lock of hair. "Your garments?"
"Not yet. I shall attend to them shortly," Ett replied, too weary to protest.
"Here are some refreshments, Young Lady," Raes said, offering cookies with a careful hand.
Ett accepted one and nibbled, eyes scanning the room, already cataloging everything: the lacquered furniture, the muted tapestries, the disciplined calm of the Academy's interior. Her mind, even in its fatigue, could not rest fully.
When she was prepared, Reas led her out to the waiting carriage. The academy was vast, sprawling in a manner that even Ett's modern sensibilities found impressive. Students traveled by carriage to different gates according to schedule, and today they were bound for the Plum Gate.
Ett's stomach rebelled, bile rising as the carriage jolted along the smooth, stone-paved paths. She bit back the retching, reciting phrases from texts she had read, a mantra to steady herself. Her complexion was pale, her body weak, yet she maintained composure, masking vulnerability beneath a veneer of calm.
"We are here, Young Lady. Your complexion is quite poor; are you unwell?" Reas asked, concern in her voice.
"F-Fine. Fine," Ett insisted, adjusting her posture, though her handkerchief absorbed the small stains of blood from her coughs.
Cherry blossoms framed the Plum Gate in delicate profusion, petals drifting lazily to the ground. Ett's eyes traced the intricate architecture, the meticulous order, and the emblems of noble families adorning each student's chest. She cataloged them with practiced efficiency: which were commoners, which were aristocrats, and which held potential as future influencers of the empire.
"Oh, are you the daughter of Archduke Froiz?" a voice asked nearby. Ett barely spared the speaker a glance, moving past the cluster of noble onlookers with the indifferent grace she had learned to wield.
The test commenced with quiet precision. Scholars and nobles alike bent over the questions, the atmosphere taut with concentration. Ett, fully conscious of the scrutiny she attracted, maintained a steady calm, observing rather than participating in idle chatter.
When the assessment ended, Reas guided her to the carriage. The nobles' eyes lingered, curious and covetous, but Ett ignored them, her attention focused solely on the next steps.
"Your Ladyship, we are arrived," Reas announced once they reached the designated resting quarters. Ett dismounted with careful deliberation, stretching her body and feeling the relief of solid ground beneath her feet.
A woman entered, silver-haired and warm-eyed, greeting her with a serene smile. Ett's gaze sharpened instinctively, recognizing the relaxation in those eyes.
Hic.
No.
Wait.
Something is off about those eyes when they stare at her. Yes, even that disgusting smile.
"Akan?"