As aristocrats, engaging in social activities with other aristocrats of similar rank is a part of social duties. Therefore, as heirs of the sa Protectorate Duke, as young aristocrats of similar age, Fendil Wilder and Elywen Franklin naturally knew each other and even had a certain personal friendship.
This personal friendship can basically be described as "mutually being the children of others."
In the Anzu Era, besides the already declining Cecil Clan, the heirs of the other three Protectorate Dukes had similar ages, equivalent status, and certain responsibilities; naturally, such situations were inevitable.
But this did not damage their friendship.
Elywen and Fendil hadn’t seen each other for a long ti. At this mont, reunited in Cecil Castle, which represents the forefront of the magical industry era, and both sharing the sa academic pursuit, they naturally had much to talk about. However, before that, there was the presence of a third person here.
Philem felt his mind sowhat vacillating; traveling for half a month, his companion turned out to be the successor of the Duke of the North. Such events, daring not to be randomly fabricated even in dramas, happening in reality, left him montarily unable to distinguish between dream and reality. This young man from the Balon Region stumbled twice before turning his gaze to Fendil, and his expression was no longer as natural: "I... You..."
Fendil waved to interrupt before Philem continued: "Friend, stop, don’t use formal words and titles."
Philem widened his eyes, montarily unsure of how to proceed.
Fendil couldn’t help but sigh internally.
He believed his behavior of aligning closely with the common folk during travel was quite good, and he also believed that he had tried his best to bridge the gap between himself and this common friend.
He had seriously studied the theory of His Majesty Gawain Cecil about the essence of the aristocratic system, which broadened the horizons of this young aristocrat born in the northern mountain range and made him yearn.
But perhaps that was just the baseless yearning of a naive young individual when encountering rebellious things.
Upon leaving the northern mountain range, he thought he would be an outstanding "new-style aristocrat," willing to support His Majesty Gawain Cecil’s reform, actively breaking those decaying barriers accumulated by old Anzu aristocrats, sweeping away this ancient kingdom’s stagnant ailnts. He was so confident, being the heir of the Duke of the North, a noble with a prominent identity, willing to break his identity, what could prevent him from becoming friends with one or several commoners?
But now he suddenly faintly understood what his aunt ant when he passed through St. Soniel——
"...Holding such thoughts indicates that you are still arrogant. The barriers between aristocrats and commoners cannot be broken by an aristocrat ’lowering their status’."
Fendil silently smiled, looking at Philem, who had tension in his eyes and unease in his expression.
That wall was indeed solid. His Majesty Gawain Cecil blew away Broken Stone Ridge, tore through the Plains of the Holy Spirits, stripped national aristocratic privileges with a single contract, and yet the wall stubbornly stood, stood in people’s hearts, as firmly as those frozen boulders in the north.
But northern folk are often even more stubborn than stones.
He reached out, forcefully patting Philem on the shoulder.
"Friend, relax, you are the creator of the Magic Shadow Drama—let’s not think about identity issues for now, aren’t you going to et Princess Rebecca with the recomndation letter from that big rchant?"
Philem instantly snapped out of his stupor, the ntion of "Princess Rebecca" by Fendil promptly diverted his attention away from the words "successor of the Duke of the North." This young blonde man subconsciously touched the box he had been carrying—inside the box was his painstaking crystallization, the hope for the revival of the family troupe, all his bets and expectations coming to the southern borders, and all this swiftly shifted his mood back to normalcy.
Beside him, Elywen curiously looked at Fendil: "You ntioned the Magic Shadow Drama earlier... what is that?"
"Ha, it’s quite a novel and amusing idea—if you’re interested, want to join?"
...
Amidst the enthusiastic cheers and sound of cannons, Gawain left the podium of the speech.
Behind him, hundreds of magic symbols on the grand classical-style archway of the Imperial Academy flickered faintly as the heavy barrier covering the door gradually faded. As a symbol, the first batch of teachers and students walked through the doors while the principal of the Imperial Academy, the tall, thin Santis Seid, stood by the entrance, watching the students enter the academy with excited eyes.
Around the square, several large holographic projections looped simple and understandable short films introducing the main subjects of the Imperial Academy, describing the situation of its four branches, and explaining how Empire citizens could apply and the basic entry requirents.
The citizens gathered in the square were gradually dispersing, but quite a few remained, gathering around the holographic projections, curiously watching the introduced content. So shook their heads regretfully, but so had an indefinable glimr in their eyes.
Gawain did not disrupt this scene; he returned to the Magic-guided Vehicle parked at the square’s flank.
As soon as he sat down, a petite figure suddenly appeared on the seat beside him; Amber was sitting there, leaning on her elbows watching the direction of the Imperial Academy.
"It’s such a beautiful place... even more beautiful than your shabby palace..." the half-elf girl muttered, "You’re really willing to spend money on this."
"This is the foundation of the nation. No matter how grand my plans are, ultimately, it relies on people, and people... need these academies to train," Gawain said with a smile, "What, are you perhaps interested in going for ’retraining’?"
"Not at all," Amber imdiately turned her head and glared, "A dignified head of the Empire Intelligence Agency not up to par in cultural courses running to the academy for redial classes, how would I maintain authority in front of those little brats in the future?"
"...I didn’t even ntion your cultural course..."
"It’s evident, don’t I know my own level?"
Gawain: "..."
After a helpless smile, he shook his head: "What are those two youngsters doing?"
"Touring the city, experiencing life. They seem quite interested in mingling among the common people, shedding rules and conventions... But, how should I say, it probably also ans observing the ’Cecil Order’ in place for their families, but they haven’t done anything out of line."
"Let the youngsters relax a bit," Gawain said with a smile, "The curiosity and passion of young people are most precious."
"You’re sounding a bit like an old tir," Amber pouted, "and since when did you beco so lenient with young people? Didn’t you always say that the old forces, especially the young within those old forces, needed strict transformation and re-education?"
Gawain didn’t imdiately answer, instead he turned to look outside the car window, watching those figures entering the academy.
"We can be more lenient now," he said lightly, "after all, they’re about to start the school term."
...
Unexpectedly for Philem, the Magic Guide Technology Research Institute was not hard to find, and in fact... not too difficult to enter either.
Located not far from the Imperial Academy, it was a tall and conspicuous complex with a spacious entrance and a square with small fountains. Unlike the somber and imposing mage towers Philem had imagined, there were no terrifying arcane puppets or large armies guarding the entrance. Although many people were coming and going, most were "ordinary people" wearing white short robes or blue uniforms — these individuals bore no trace of a mage’s aura, and their deanor was equally mundane.
After presenting an introductory letter and the identification docunts issued by St. Soniel and verifying personal information, the guardians in front of the institute building courteously allowed them to pass.
This both surprised and puzzled Philem.
Fendil and Elywen exchanged a glance.
As spellcasters, they could see a scene vastly different from what appeared in Philem’s eyes.
From the square in front of the door to the entrance hall, the Magic Guide Technology Research Institute was equipped with hundreds of large and small Magic Detection Devices along the way, and an unknown number of hidden spell counterasures and Magic Power interference traps. What seed like ordinary guardians at the gate were likely ard to the teeth with Magical Equipnt, while powerful magical surges were pervasive within the building, making it daunting.
The magical things here... are truly as if they cost nothing.
The two young aristocrats couldn’t help but tense up, paying even more attention to their conduct.
They did not reveal their aristocratic backgrounds but instead used ordinary "citizen certificates" (a new creation under the Cecil Order) and Philem’s guarantee to gain entry to the facility. They did not wish to cause trouble here, as that would not only signify a poor start to their journey to the southern borders but also disgrace their family’s honor.
The three entered the Magic Guide Technology Research Institute, confird from the guide that Princess Rebecca was present, and then followed the guide’s instructions to take the elevator platform connecting the main building’s floors, quickly arriving at the third floor of this large facility.
Spacious and bright corridors and neatly arranged laboratories, researchers quietly coming and going in the hallways, Rune Devices embedded on the walls, and magical creations visible everywhere...
All of these opened the three young people’s eyes wide.
Fendil couldn’t help but sigh—
After seeing this scene, he realized that the advanced "Highlanders" wasn’t really much after all.
"I’ve never seen such a magical experint location," Elywen muttered under his breath, "Father’s magic laboratory compared to this is more like a dungeon."
"Aunt’s too... no, perhaps even worse," Fendil shook his head, "Aunt’s ability to organize things is simply a disaster, yet she won’t allow anyone to interfere in her magic experints."
Listening to these two ducal heirs discuss secrets involving top aristocrats, Philem felt a mix of complex emotions in his heart, both nervous and oddly excited, yet he dared not speak casually.
Fortunately, his state of tension and suffocation did not last long—they had arrived at the laboratory door as directed by the guide.
Just then, a researcher wearing a short robe opened the door and ca out of the room, and Fendil imdiately stepped forward to explain their purpose.
"You’re looking for Princess Rebecca?" The male researcher, with a slightly receding hairline, curiously assessed the three in front of him, then shook his head, "Sothing has happened on this side, and she’s gone out temporarily."
"Sothing happened?" Fendil asked curiously, while his peripheral vision caught a glimpse of the laboratory’s interior through the open door.
Though he couldn’t see clearly, it seed as if sothing had exploded inside, with charred fragnts embedded in the walls, smoke dust floating in the air, and a pungent sll wafting through the air.
"So everyday experintal byproducts," said the male researcher with a worrying hairline calmly, moving his body to block the visitor’s view, and pointed towards a room at the end of the hallway, "Princess Rebecca is over in the lounge, you can wait there, but please don’t disturb her—she’s undergoing self-adjustnt."
Self-adjustnt?
Fendil and Elywen grew even more puzzled, curious about the renowned Imperial princess, the daily operations of this facility, and the so-called "self-adjustnt." They exchanged glances and led the sowhat bewildered Philem towards the lounge at the end of the hallway.
The three arrived at the lounge door, and before pushing open that door, they faintly heard so sounds.
It was gentle and soothing music, tinkling and moving, making even Fendil, who was about to push the door, halt his action.
Then, he more cautiously and slowly pushed open the door.
In the brightly lit lounge, a girl in a plain long dress, wearing a white short robe over it, was sitting in front of a piano, imrsed in playing.
The girl was in profile, with light spilling down onto her light brown long hair, casting a gleaming halo, and a delicate shadow on her face. Her fingers danced on the keys, her expression serene and calm, as if she had rged with the instrunt, entirely undisturbed by external distractions.
The gentle and soothing beautiful lody flowed from the girl’s fingertips, filling the entire room.
And the room was not occupied by the girl alone; there were also several individuals in standard white robes sitting around, presumably researchers here to rest, who seed to be completely absorbed in the girl’s performance.
Fendil, Elywen, and Philem speculated that the girl playing the piano was likely the rumored "Princess Rebecca." Fendil felt sowhat surprised, knowing sothing about Princess Rebecca. The stories about this princess suggested she wasn’t soone calm enough to play the piano quietly. Elywen faintly overheard a few voices from the room’s researchers conversing softly:
"I didn’t expect Princess Rebecca to have such a high musical talent..."
"Is it your first ti hearing this?"
"Yeah, it’s my first encounter..."
"It’s said that Princess Rebecca’s music teacher was quite accomplished back in the day..."
"No wonder..."
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