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An Otherworldly Scholar - 223
🕑 Added 2025-05-01 03:23:00 +0000 UTCIlya and I entered the antechamber arm-in-arm. The vaulted ceiling arched ten meters over my head, like the room had been designed for giants instead of regular people. The pillars were carved with vines and statues of the royal house’s heraldic stag. Along the walls, heavy wooden benches offered a place for the cadets waiting to enter the ballroom. The room had been specially decorated for the occasion. Multicolor light stones hung in clumps from the ceiling, giving off a gentle pastel light.
Things were going to get interesting. Once the world learned there was a technique for learning, things were going to change. I wondered if people would believe me. If something happened one time, it was an accident; twice might be a coincidence, but three times was a clear sign of a pattern. Lord Herran had two of his daughters in the third year, but he spawned redheads like there was no tomorrow, so chances were in his favor. Getting four unrelated kids into the Imperial Academy, and all four of them surviving into the third year, was beyond chance.
“Do you think I’m doing the right thing?” I asked.
“Back then, the System had complete control over my life, but you taught me to be free. Giving this gift to others is the right thing to do,” Ilya said, her eyes quickly scanning the room. “Can we talk about something less embarrassing now?”
I gave Ilya a gentle tug, but she wasn’t the little gnome I met in Farcrest anymore. Her arms were braided steel. She didn’t budge an inch, like her shoes had roots that anchored her to the stone floor.
“What level are you?” I asked.
“That's not something you should ask a lady,” she smugly replied.
The small crowd in the anteroom started to notice our presence.
“They are glaring,” I pointed out.
Ilya walked upright, ignoring the glances of the cadets.
“They are trying to figure out why we are here together,” Ilya replied. “I swear. Some of them waste too much energy trying to climb the social ladder even before becoming an Imperial Knight.”
“What about you? Am I a piece of your political plans?”
Ilya rolled her eyes.
“You should be more considerate of a girl’s feelings.”
“I also enjoy spending time with you, thanks for mentioning it,” I replied, squeezing the girl’s arm playfully. “You’d better believe I’ll be bragging to the other parents about everything you’ve achieved.”
Ilya stifled a smile.
“Please don’t. The surprise factor has been my greatest ally, and I want to keep it that way.”
At the end of the antechamber, massive black doors slightly ajar awaited us. The soft sound of music poured into the corridor, three-four time, like a waltz. [Foresight] told me that the doors were made of solid iron. For a ballroom entrance, it looked rather intimidating.
“Let’s have fun,” I said.
Ilya nodded.
We climbed the staircase and entered the ballroom. The mirrors on the wall made it feel more spacious than it already was. [Foresight] scanned the scenery. I counted a hundred cadets and as many guests. I recognized some of them, mostly low-level nobles I had met in the tournament in Farcrest. There were a lot of royals among the attendees, wearing emerald and gold, but no sign of Prince Adrien.
For a moment, I feared my attire would clash with Cadria’s fashion style, but I was glad to notice men’s leggings were in. My attire was top-heavy, with high-heeled shoes, white leggings, a thick belt tight around my waist, a dress sword, and a thick blue mantle over my shoulders with the Rosebud Fencing Academy crest on the back. My hair was slicked back, my nose powdered, and my neck perfumed, courtesy of Zaon’s squadmates.
Luckily for me, codpieces weren’t a thing in Ebros.
For satisfying your fashion needs, you have obtained Vigor Lv.1. Temporary.
I dismissed the prompt as Ilya tugged my arm.
“Remember, to greet the royal family members, put your left hand on your hip, right foot back, and bow,” she said. “And don’t make things weird if someone recognizes me. There are only fifty third-year cadets, and I’m the only gnome. It’s hard to go unnoticed when you are the only one with blue skin.”
“I’m going to mention how small you used to be,” I whispered near Ilya’s ear.
“Robert, no,” she silently grunted.
Ilya guided me through the ballroom, greeting the important people as protocol required. She introduced me as her guardian. Even with Ilya’s fame, the royals weren’t particularly interested in us.
“Let’s greet Lord Astur,” Ilya said.
Lord Astur was chatting with a bunch of Imperial Knights dressed in sleek black uniforms in the corner near a balcony. He was wearing a cream-colored coat that matched his curly blonde hair. It might be my imagination, but his skin gave off a faint golden light. Unfortunately, under the pretty envelope was a rotten personality.
Rhovan was the first to notice us approaching.
“Word is you lost half of your class the first day, Instructor Clarke,” he greeted me. “But the most impressive thing is that the other half stayed after you subjected them to that Courier training.”
The remark was received with laughter.
Lord Astur did nothing to smooth the conversation. If I had to bet, he must’ve been spying on the Cabbage Class, and what he saw didn’t satisfy him. My methods were the opposite of the hyper-competitive atmosphere the other instructors nurtured. Cardio training must’ve seemed crazy to them.
Ilya’s hand squeezed my arm under the mantle, but her face showed no sign of anger. It took two people to fight, and I wasn’t in the mood to take the bait. I gave Rhovan a bored glance.
“I have high hopes for Cabbage Class,” I said. “It’s been a while since I worked with a handpicked elite class. I project that eleven out of eleven of my students will pass the selection exam.”
The Knights looked at me like they had sucked on a bitter lemon.
“That’s a tall prediction,” Astur pointed out, his voice not giving off a hint of malice.
“I guess we wouldn’t know until after the exam,” I replied, downplaying the matter.
Rhovan and the Knights weren’t happy with my words, though. What seemed to bother them the most was that I meant them. Considering the quality of the new cadets, every classroom should have a passing rate much higher than the average of fifty percent, but I didn’t mention it.
I wasn’t there to argue with the other instructors, so I squeezed Ilya’s hand under my mantle so she could complete the round of greetings and leave.
“Grandmaster, it’s a pleasure to see you tonight,” Ilya said with a deep bow.
Lord Astur looked at the girl, and for a moment, he seemed to have difficulty processing the scene.
“Cadet Ilya?”
“Yes, sir. That’s me.”
I could tell Astur’s mind was racing to find out why we were there together, but the puzzle didn’t make sense. I masked my grin as a polite smile. If Astur had cared a little more to know their students, he would have known. Rhovan and the other instructors also looked at us with the same quizzical expression.
“I expected you to come with the other members of Black Basilisk, not with Instructor Clarke,” Lord Astur said, testing the waters. “I should assume you two know each other?”
Ilya nodded.
“Mister Clarke was my teacher back at Farcrest,” she said, letting the last word linger in the air.
I could almost see Astur’s mind silently imploding. Having two ‘children’ in the Imperial Academy was an achievement almost unheard of. Having two ‘children’, plus a student—and a gnome, on top of that—was unprecedented.
Astur looked at me as if I were a mystical mountain hermit, knower of the secrets of the universe. I could almost hear his brain buzzing. Maybe Astur was starting to realize that blackmailing me hadn’t been a clever idea in the first place, because he took a step away from Rhovan and the knights. In comparison, Prince Adrien was a much better statesman. He understood politics wasn’t a zero-sum game.
“How?” Astur asked, but a clump of nobles clashed into our little group and demanded Astur’s attention.
“Please, don’t waste your time on us,” I said with a slight bow.
Ilya saluted, and we withdrew while the nobles surrounded the group of Knights. Astur followed us with his silver eyes until a tall woman stood before him. When we were far enough, Ilya burst out laughing.
“That’s what he gets for trying to blackmail you,” the girl said.
“You should be more considerate of the Grandmaster’s feelings,” I replied.
Ilya rolled her eyes and dragged me across the room. She introduced me to some of her squadmates at Black Basilisk. None seemed very fond of each other, but Ilya told me they worked like clockwork. It was a purely business relationship.
We sat near the windows, and Ilya told me about the third-year cadets.
Five cadet squads survived the second year: Wolfpack, Black Basilisk, Rosethorn, Skydrake, and Mandragora. Each squad had its quirks. The Wolfpack was made of commoners. Holst’s former students gathered in Black Basilisk while Rhovan’s gathered in Skydrake. Holst and Rhovan had a high passing rate, so there were enough of their students to fill most of the seats inside their respective squads. The keyword was most. Ilya told me a few squad members came from other classes, unlike Mandragora, which was exclusively of Astur’s students.
Rosethorn was… particular.
Ilya was going to explain to me about Zaon’s squad when suddenly, the atmosphere changed, and it felt like the music stopped to catch its breath. Zaon stepped into the ballroom, drawing every eye in the room. He was wearing a gray fencing jacket and a blue mantle with the crest of the Rosebud Fencing Academy embroidered on the back. The blue and gray made his long golden hair stand out.
I couldn’t help but notice we were wearing analogous outfits.
“He looks like he walked out of a fairytale,” I pointed out.
“We should hide him in the attic before he starts ruining marriages,” Ilya replied.
I nodded.
Zaon noticed us across the ballroom and lit up a bright smile. Luckily, nobody fainted in our close vicinity. Then, time unfroze, and the music seemed to return to its usual volume. Only Lord Astur rivaled Zaon in charm.
“Mister Clarke,” Zaon said.
“Come here, boy. We missed you today during training,” I replied.
We hugged briefly before Ilya wedged between us.
“Go away, Goldilocks, you are supposed to greet Lord Astur and the royals first,” the girl said.
“Oh, right. I’ll be back.” Zaon panicked for a moment before diving into the crowd.
Everyone in the room had noticed our little interaction. Not that the same crest on our backs was a telltale of our connection. The genie was out of the lamp, but dealing with the revelation was a problem for the future Rob. Now, I was only looking to have some fun with the kids.
A waiter offered us drinks, and Ilya grabbed a small crystal cup of sparkling wine.
“Excuse me, but you are too young for that,” I said, taking the cup from her hand. “Wait until your frontal lobe finishes developing before consuming alcohol.”
Ilya looked at me, offended.
“Do you want me to drink milk or something?”
“If you don’t want brittle bones, that’s up to you.”
Zaon didn’t get to return to our bench because his squadmates dragged him to the dance floor. Rosethorn was peculiar. The squad consisted of two boys and eight girls. I recognized Kaeli Herran and Vigdis Herran, the Mountain Druid and the Snow Mage we had faced in the Stephaniss Cup two years ago. I wondered if those two were the Herran sisters Ilya wanted to ally with.
“Will he be okay?” I asked.
“Don’t worry about him, all-female squads are very common until it becomes hard to fill all ten spots,” Ilya said. “He’s just one of the girls.”
Zaon danced with Kaeli Herran while the other girls paired with each other.
“Shall we keep him company?”
Ilya nodded, and we entered the dance floor. Maybe it was an area spell around the dance floor, but the chatter suddenly died, leaving only the music. The polished wood floor made a lovely sound under my heels. I wasn’t familiar with the music trends of Cadria, but the flute and the harpsichord produce a sweet tune slightly less folky than what musicians in Farcrest played. The dance couples moved slowly, with small, controlled steps, like they were worried about wrinkling their attire.
Ilya stood before me and made a pronounced curtsy. I bowed, holding my mantle up. We started with the Cadrian dance, the backs of our hands together in the middle as we turned clockwise, just to suddenly change with the cues in the song. I couldn’t say Cadrian dances were particularly exciting. They were technical, yes, but the movements were overly restrained.
We followed the crowd until the song changed back to a more ‘happy’ three-four time.
“A taste of Farcrest?” I asked.
Ilya nodded.
We speed up the pace, adding a bit of folk flair to our dance. At first, the other couples gave us strange glances, but the musicians seemed to appreciate the change of pace. Like silent accomplices, they started playing faster and faster tunes.
As the night passed, there were fewer gliding and more stamping and clapping. At some point, the musicians played a faster song with a heavy drum base, and the women moved to the sides. I didn’t expect a men-only dance. Still, I let [Foresight] analyze the steps. The dancers maintained eye contact, circling and mirroring each other’s footwork. Then, all the instruments stopped except for the drums. One of the dancers stepped back, and the other performed a short, heavy tapping with clapping and palm strikes to punctuate the dance.
It was like a much less provocative version of Flamenco.
“Stormwalk,” Ilya whispered in my ear.
“There weren’t worse names available?”
Ilya nudged my shoulder and brought her finger to her lips.
Most Imperial Knights entered the dance floor to perform at least one round of the Stormwalk. Not all couples were the same: some had a more friendly approach with slower paces and complementary moves, while others explicitly tried to outplay their opponent. I noticed some of the woman-Knights partaking in the ritual. Rhovan danced with a female instructor dressed in the Imperial Knight military uniform.
I asked Ilya if she wanted to give it a try, but she refused.
“I’m not going to ruin my hairdo for a silly dance,” she replied.
None of the members of Rosethorn wanted to dance, so I ended up paired with Zaon. The musicians made a brief stop for the dancers to cycle, then the music thundered down. I could only hear my heart pounding as I tapped on the floor following the fast pace the best I could. Across from me, Zaon smiled at me. We circled like wolves, but Zaon didn’t push the tempo, unlike the other pairs. Even with the confrontational undertone of the first part of the dance, the boy gave me leeway to get used to it.
“Don’t look down on this old man, boy. I went to dance classes as long as I did fencing,” I said when we met in the middle.
Zaon grinned.
“Let’s have fun then, old man.”
The day had finally come when Zaon taunted me back.
I almost shed a tear.
The instruments dropped, and the second half of the dance began. Zaon was gentle enough to concede me the first round. I started with fast, aggressive tapping, with steps crossing over in countermotion. Then, I stomped my foot and opened my arms in a gesture of open challenge. The Imperial Knights on the sidelines whistled to instigate a reply. I knew Zaon was a great dancer from the parties we threw back at the orphanage, but he mimicked my movements better than I expected. He didn’t even break a sweat.
We escalated our movements across the three acts of the dance. By the last challenge, Zaon was far closer to breaking me than I ever got to him. I managed to keep his pace. In the end, we bowed and pulled each other into a manly hug.
“If there were four acts, you would’ve got me,” I said.
Zaon grinned.
“Not bad for a first timer,” he playfully said.
The crowd clapped, and the musicians returned to a more mellow tune.
My heels were stabbing my soul.
“Showoffs,” Ilya said when we reached her. “Guys aren’t supposed to be the dancing queens.”
I was about to reply when [Foresight] pinged my brain. I looked around, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. The Imperial Knights were unfazed. An uneasy feeling rose from my stomach up to my throat.
“What’s wrong?” Ilya asked.
The System prompt popped up on my face, and I heard the Avatar’s voice yelling in my ear.
WE’VE GOT A BOGEY AT 5 O’CLOCK, RANGE 45 METERS.
Comments
Trevayne
Thanks for the chapter, and looking forward to the bogey revelation.
dumbo3k
Bogey might still be appropriate. Astur is definitely a Bandit, with hostile intentions, while Byrne could still be an unknown. Yes, it rebuffed the Avatar's plans, but doesn't mean that they are currently working against the Avatar's interests.
Ben Bass
TYFTC! I love how Ilya is playing into the intrigue a bit, and how Zaon is still mostly oblivious to the charms he has on the greater world. Now about that bogey, will that be Byrne, as no one else is reacting to a threat?
ElAyVee
Yay! Somebody decided to show up again (and it's not Sam). Just a bit of trivia: "Bogey" is an unidentified aircraft, potentially hostile but not confirmed. A confirmed hostile (which is what I presume the system avatar is trying to classify Bryne as) would be a "Bandit". That said you would be more likely to confuse people if you were to call him a bandit since calling a hostile a "bogey" has become part of mainstream culture, most people wouldn't know that it's wrong. So I think it works well here :)
Nitr0Sage
Exciting
@Alphamoonman
I wonder if Rob's dancing seemed too American, and that's what caught Samuel's attention.
I Dare Korval
Well it is know he claimed to be from the kingdom of Connecticut, and that name is pretty obvious.
I Dare Korval
I take it Bryne is about to show up?
Andrew Lechner
Probably Samual coming to the party. Not the most ideal first meeting for the two, but there are worse. Neither is likely to try and kill each other at first sight with the royals and so many other high level combatants in the room. Though I'm actually curious to learn whether or not Samuel will be able to tell Rob is from Earth without Rob telling him. He is presumably still a runecarver.
Makyura
Uh oh he is back. I am eagerly awaiting calamity
