Translator: Nox

Chapter 22

* * *

The Briyang Empire stood alone as the singular sovereign power on the Spring Continent. Its stability rested upon four monumental cornerstones.

The first was the throne of the Imperial Family.

The second was the noble House of Grand Duke Frazier.

The third consisted of the four secondary ducal lineages.

Finally, there was the White Tower.

While the Temple’s reach spanned the entire Spring Continent, it existed beyond the borders of the Empire’s law. By long-standing tradition, the clergy refrained from the messy business of statecraft, leaving their worldly power strictly curtailed.

In contrast, the White Tower served as a vital support for Briyang. It fueled the nation’s progress through the relentless intellectual labor and sophisticated research of its premier academics. Their reach was so pervasive that every instructor at the Academy—situated in its own sovereign territory—hailed from the Tower’s ranks.

A scholar of the Tower was permitted to venture into the world only after attaining the rank of Pneuma. Throughout the history of the institution, no one had achieved that distinction at a younger age than Schulz Schmidt.

Schulz was a man of frozen temperament, a scholar whose only passion was found in dusty volumes. At that moment, he was locked in a steady, unblinking stare with Assis Grand Duke Frazier.

The Grand Duke was a beast of an old man, seasoned and dangerous. He carried the aura of a predator king who ruled over endless plains. He was the most formidable nobleman in the Empire, and his physical presence demanded absolute deference.

Facing that overwhelming pressure, Schulz Schmidt spoke. His tone was a flat, unchanging drone.

“Full marks.”

Silence met him.

“Full marks,” he repeated.

Still, the Grand Duke said nothing.

“Full marks.”

Schulz laid out the examination papers. Each one was stamped with the unmistakable seal of a Pneuma, and each bore a flawless score. At the top of the bundle, the name ‘Tulia Frazier’ was written in a clear hand.

“It has been only two years since I was elevated to Pneuma,” Schulz remarked. “In that time, I have instructed none but the high-born children of the Frazier household.”

He paused, but the Grand Duke remained a statue.

“Regardless, I have never encountered a pupil who could navigate the introductory exam of a White Tower scholar without a single error.”

Assis Grand Duke Frazier finally reached for the papers. He flipped through them, his face a mask of indifference.

“I am informing you, Your Grace, that Miss Tulia possesses a talent that borders on the miraculous.”

From his post by the office door, Ruk Kelfosher caught a glimpse of something rare. The corner of the Grand Duke’s mouth twitched upward, ever so slightly.

It was natural for any grandfather to take pride in a grandchild’s success. However, seeing such a reaction from the fearsome Assis was jarring.

Ruk considered that the Grand Duke’s perspective on Tulia might be shifting. Among the sprawling sea of descendants in this great house, Tulia was the only one who had recently begun to treat the patriarch like a human grandfather rather than a terrifying deity.

Ruk looked away, feigning ignorance of the Grand Duke’s quiet pride.

He reflected on how much the atmosphere had shifted since Tulia’s arrival at the main fortress—specifically, since that evening they shared a meal in the storehouse.

Even this current audience was a radical departure from the norm. Under any other circumstances, a private meeting between a representative of the White Tower and the head of the Frazier family was an impossibility. Had Schulz Schmidt not forced the issue today by demanding an audience, he likely would have finished his tenure and departed the Grand Duchy without ever speaking a private word to the Duke.

Furthermore, Schulz was set to leave the Frazier lands within the coming week.

“At present, there are only two members of the direct bloodline residing in these lands: Young Master Tedrick and Miss Tulia,” Schulz noted, his voice returning to a clinical rhythm. “I am aware that Young Master Tedrick employs eight separate tutors for his advanced curriculum, supplemental to my own lectures.”

In the upper echelons of the nobility, such excess was standard. Only houses of ducal rank or higher could manage the expense of eight private specialists. It was the reason Tedrick’s performance was consistently elite, providing Viscount Lilius and Lady Aubrey with such immense confidence.

“My question, however, concerns Miss Tulia’s private instruction,” Schulz continued.

He was desperate to know what kind of mentor could produce a student capable of solving every ancient language cipher with such precision. Schulz had nearly collapsed from shock while grading her work, which was why he had sought the Grand Duke immediately. He assumed the girl was being trained in secret by some hidden master the Duke wished to keep under wraps.

Schulz, like all Pneumas, had no patience for inefficiency.

“If you would introduce us to this hidden sage, the Tower would be immensely grateful,” Schulz offered. “In exchange, I would arrange for our most venerable elders to take my place here in the Frazier domain. One of them was even the personal tutor to the Second Prince.”

Ruk Kelfosher’s eyes widened at the proposal. To have a Pneuma elder—someone who had groomed the Imperial bloodline—offered as a private tutor was a concession even the Emperor would envy. It was especially shocking given the historically frigid relations between the White Tower and House Frazier.

Assis, however, did not jump at the bargain. He simply continued to examine the papers.

Nearly a third of the test involved ancient scripts. Even for a man of the Duke’s experience, some of the questions were so dense they were nearly illegible. They were clearly designed to weed out even the most gifted students, yet she had bypassed every trap. It was no wonder the stoic Pneuma was acting so frantic.

“I had my suspicions,” Assis whispered to himself. “But this confirms it.”

He recalled their private moments. Tulia had shown a startling intellect from the start, speaking of complex, undeciphered linguistics with an ease that shouldn’t have been possible. He hadn’t pressed her on it then. He knew his grandchildren viewed him with terror, and he had feared that prying would only make her retreat into her shell.

Instead, she had turned down lavish bribes, requested only the heirloom necklace of the direct line, and sat for her exams without protest. The outcome was beyond anything he had anticipated.

Assis suppressed a swell of uncharacteristic pride and looked at the scholar.

“Pneuma Schulz.”

“I am listening, Your Grace.”

“Tulia does not have a tutor.”

Schulz’s composure finally broke. “That is impossible. She must have—”

Had any other noble said this, Schulz would have dismissed it as a clumsy lie—a tactic to gain leverage in a negotiation. But he was speaking to Assis Grand Duke Frazier, a man whose word carried the weight of the Emperor’s own. He was the pillar of this entire lineage.

Schulz felt his eyes widen for what felt like the hundredth time that morning.

“Are you suggesting the young lady mastered these subjects entirely on her own?”

“I am told she has spent her time exclusively in the library,” the Duke replied.

“The Frazier archives are famous for their ancient collections, certainly, but to learn without guidance…”

“If I may clarify, Your Grace,” Ruk interjected smoothly. “Miss Tulia was never granted clearance for the restricted archives. She has only ever used the general library.”

The room’s atmosphere shifted instantly. Both the Duke and the scholar looked stunned, though for different reasons.

Assis’s expression was particularly pained.

“You mean to say,” the Duke murmured, his voice thick with a complex emotion, “that she sat in the public library, teaching herself the most difficult languages in existence through sheer willpower?”

Ruk remained silent.

“And she never once complained about it,” the Duke added.

He thought of her boldness during the Frazier Council, how she had stood her ground and cast her vote, and contrasted it with the image of her sitting quietly in a public hall accessible to even the lowliest distant relatives. The disparity was haunting. Tedrick had eight world-class mentors at his beck and call, while his granddaughter had been left to fend for herself.

Even a man as reputedly cold as Assis Frazier could not remain indifferent to such a realization.

“Ruk.”

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“Get the Special Access Pass.”

Assis took the pass that granted unfettered entry to the Special Library. He penned Tulia’s name across it and pressed his personal signet—the seal of the Family Head—into the wax before handing it to Ruk.

The Special Library was a place of legend, rumored to hold volumes that rivaled the Imperial collection. Entry was a rare honor reserved only for scholars who had earned the Duke’s personal trust. By giving this to Tulia, Assis was granting her a status that was almost without precedent.

Among his many descendants, only Lisian Frazier—Tulia’s elder twin and a renowned genius—had ever held such a pass. No one would have predicted Tulia would be the next.

“Since Tulia has shown such a hunger for the ancient arts,” Assis continued, “we shall formally request a Pneuma from the White Tower to continue her education.”

Ruk’s breath hitched. Today was a day of impossible things.

Assis Frazier was a man who never looked back once a bridge was burned. Yet here he was, offering an olive branch to the White Tower, an institution he had been estranged from for years. He was the one initiating the reconciliation.

The Duke had previously intended to leave the fractured relationship with the Tower as a problem for his successor to solve. It had been of no concern to him—until now.

Ruk realized the magnitude of the moment. This would send shockwaves through the Empire’s political landscape. Re-establishing ties with the Tower would secure the Grand Duchy’s influence for generations.

And it was all happening because of Tulia.

“Ruk.”

The Grand Duke stood up. In the hands that had spent a lifetime gripping the hilts of swords and the seals of power, he held a young girl’s perfect exam paper with surprising care.

For a fleeting second, the terrifying sovereign looked like nothing more than a grandfather who wanted to brag.

“Go to Tulia,” Assis commanded. “Tell her the investiture ceremony for her Direct Lineage Necklace will take place tomorrow evening.”