No matter what, soone should co tell him—
What on earth did he steal from which Prince?!
He returned to the inn where the rcenaries were staying, distracted and unsettled.
During dinner, a group of rcenary friends looked at his soulless appearance, glancing at each other, unsure of what had happened.
However, everyone has their down monts.
On this journey, they had shared als and accommodation, and more or less treated him as one of their own, not just a client paying for services.
So one of the guys patted him on the shoulder and started a conversation.
"By the way, Poet, we've been calling you Poet all along, but what's your na really?"
"Yeah, tell us!" A freckled-faced young man urged him eagerly, impatient to hear his story.
Marco trembled all over, the image of a bloody portrait flashed again in his mind, and this ti, the person on the guillotine turned into himself.
With everyone's strange gazes upon him, he stamred, squeezing two words out through clenched teeth.
"...Hungry Wolf."
At this mont, he truly resembled a wild wolf who hadn't eaten for three days and nights, reduced to skin and bones, shivering in the piercing cold wind of the Northern Realm.
He needed ti to digest the heavy weight behind this.
"Hungry Wolf?"
"Hahaha!"
"Good na!"
The rcenaries burst into a good-hearted laughter, not probing further, continuing to drink beer and divide the charred at.
Most of these folks making a living out here used pseudonyms, just like those nuns working in the camps. As for the reason, naturally they feared old enemies tracing them, or perhaps for planning a pastoral life after retiring from the trade.
On this spotless snow field, no one is truly clean, born into the mud and mire; the difference is that so can see the mud on themselves, while others stubbornly claim they are clean till the end.
Perhaps this "Poet" also has his own grievances!
...
The Tower of Great Sage, apprentice dining hall, it consistently adheres to the pragmatic spirit of the Academic State, always bustling and fulfilling.
In the grand wide hall, hundreds of apprentices sat along plain long tables, and there were several more of the sa tables, all packed to capacity.
The only bright spot was the small magic tray slowly rising at the center of the table, precisely delivering steaming oatal and bread spread with icing and jam to each person.
This thing isn't common in the Empire and is said to be a recent mystery that professors in the Academic State have comprehended from the Void.
Of course, the Empire might not necessarily have use for it.
Regardless, this was the first breakfast of many young preparatory students upon entering the school, and it's said that an even more sumptuous dinner awaited them in the evening.
Barrett, who just beca an apprentice, rubbed his hands, face full of excitent, devouring ravenously, the bumpy journey from the border lted away in the surge of appetite.
To be precise, he wasn't officially an apprentice yet. Academic State learners have five levels: Preparatory Student, Apprentice, Mage, Honor Student, Graduate.
Graduates, also called Quasi-Mages, could join the Empire's Army as Chanters for the Mage Group, or remain in the Academic State as assistants to continue exploring the mysteries of magic.
Incidentally, teachers here also have distinct hierarchies, starting often as assistants, then master, professor, Sage, Great Sage.
There are twelve Sages altogether, only one Great Sage, who is the head of the Thirteen Towers—the Tower Master of the Tower of Great Sage, the Common Lord of the Council of Sages!
At the level of a Sage, it generally boils down to luck, anyone appointed is invariably top-tier Transcendent, and must also have sufficient achievents in the domain of magic.
Nevertheless, though ordinary people have little hope to beco a Sage, the relatively superior position of a professor can be challenged.
At the professor level, one is either a dragon among n or a tiger among n, holding a status not inferior to that of a Duke from a secular Kingdom, even if slightly less esteed, mutual disdain notwithstanding, they are equivalent in stature.
Barrett's dream is to beco a professor, he dreams about it!
And now he shoulders not only his own and his parents' dreams but also Leo's dreams, Finic and Ira's dreams, who regretfully failed in their interviews—
He must advance with their unfulfilled ideals too!
Towards that towering pinnacle!
However, this is all for the future.
First and foremost, he must, as a Preparatory Student, devote himself to studying the most fundantal magic theories during the three-year training period, and successfully pass the assessnt in three years to beco an official apprentice.
Then—
They would proceed to the Mage Tower of their dreams, determined initially during the interview, just like the delicious sweet mini loaves on their table.
And then, the future path would be smooth sailing!
Barrett took a big bite of the bread in his hand, savoring the rich strawberry jam, enjoying the sweetness in solitude.
The air was filled with the aroma of food, yet no matter how rich, it couldn't suppress the buzzing discussion.
"Finn, a slightly naive male voice sounded, a newly-joined preparatory student, curiously looked around, "Has anyone told you, Ilana? What's everyone discussing? Feels like sothing trendous has happened here!"
He was from the remote countryside of the Rhode Kingdom, his face still carrying the simplicity from the fields and the purest yearning for this Magic Holy Land.
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