Leon’s POV
Myrcella’s plan was solid. Not the kind of solid that looked perfect on paper and then collapsed the mont reality touched it—but the kind that had weight to it, like it had been thought through over long nights and quiet monts when doubts crept in. You could feel the effort behind it, the careful balancing of risks and gains. There were rough edges, sure. Parts that still needed polishing. But nothing that couldn’t be handled.
More importantly, I could tell she wasn’t stepping into this blindly. She had already accepted that, no matter the outco, she would gain sothing from this. Influence. Stability. Leverage. Maybe all three.
Exposing my power wasn’t an issue. It never really was.
If anything, I’d been dragging that out longer than necessary. Keeping things hidden had its uses early on, but at this stage, it felt more like inertia than strategy. Besides, it wasn’t as if I had done a perfect job pretending to be weak in the first place.
Most of the cadets still didn’t know the full extent of what I could do, but if I suddenly pulled off sothing insane now—after years of acting like I was barely scraping by—I doubted anyone would genuinely lose their minds over it. I’d already crossed that line plenty of tis.
I’d shown feats that shouldn’t have been possible for soone "weak." Too many monts where luck alone couldn’t explain it. Too many tis when things went my way in ways that made people pause, frown, and quietly rethink their assumptions.
And then there were my relationships.
I had connections with a lot of won in this academy. That wasn’t a secret anymore. So of those relationships were openly visible, impossible to ignore, and the won involved weren’t low-ranking nobodies either. They had status. Influence. Nas that carried weight.
People noticed that sort of thing.
Even if no one had outright confird whether I was actually dating Princess Myrcella, they definitely knew I was connected to her. That alone was enough for rumors to spread. It didn’t take a genius to stitch together the pieces.
At the very least, they must’ve already ford their own theories. The kind that spread quietly, passed along in whispers and raised eyebrows.
And honestly? They wouldn’t be wrong.
We never intended to keep it a secret forever. There was no grand plan to hide it until the end of ti. It just... hadn’t mattered enough to address directly. Not with everything else going on.
That said, it was bound to cause controversy eventually. There was no avoiding that.
I wasn’t just involved with a princess from a foreign kingdom. I was also dating the princess of this kingdom. That alone was enough to make the political landscape ssy. Nobles would complain. Traditionalists would clutch their pearls. Opportunists would look for angles to exploit.
It was the kind of situation people loved to twist into sothing ugly.
But the reality was simpler than that.
Everything about this had been consensual from the start. No manipulation. No coercion. No one was being pushed into sothing they didn’t want. No one felt used, discarded, or dragged along for convenience.
No one felt like shit because of it.
As far as I was concerned, that mattered more than whatever noise people decided to make. As long as the people involved were fine with it—happy with it, even—then the rest was just background chatter.
And besides, the two of them genuinely liked each other.
That wasn’t sothing you could fake. You could see it in the way they spoke, the way they listened, the way they stood by each other when things got heavy. That alone made a difference.
Titania was supporting Myrcella now because Myrcella needed it. Because this was a critical mont, and having soone reliable at her side mattered.
"Nia," Myrcella said, her voice calm but firm. "I am counting on you."
There was no dramatics in her tone. No begging. Just trust.
"Yup. Leave everything to ," Titania replied easily, like this was already settled in her mind.
What Titania planned to do was straightforward in concept, but heavy in execution. She was going to seek the support of the Kingdom of Bethlan—to help stabilize Milham and balance out what the kingdom had lost since the King’s death.
The loss of a ruler wasn’t just symbolic. It shook foundations. Alliances wavered. Internal tensions grew sharper. Without careful handling, things could spiral fast.
Titania intended to speak directly to her father, the King of Bethlan. Not through interdiaries. Not through carefully worded letters that could be misread or ignored. A face-to-face conversation. One ruler’s child speaking honestly to a king.
If things went well, Bethlan would lend its support long enough for Milham to recover its footing. Long enough for wounds to close and stability to return.
Of course, that kind of support never ca for free.
Milham wouldn’t simply take help and walk away. In return, they would provide support in combat power. Not by fighting Bethlan’s wars outright, but by offering training within Milham itself.
A joint training initiative between the two kingdoms.
On paper, it was elegant. In practice, it was even better.
The two kingdoms barely understood each other’s fighting styles. Their doctrines, their strengths, their weaknesses—it was all different. Bringing their soldiers together would benefit both sides. Exposure bred adaptability. Adaptability bred strength.
At the core of it all was one key point: magic knights.
The idea was to spark the King of Bethlan’s interest in how magic knights were trained. Not just the results, but the process. The discipline. The system behind it.
So of Bethlan’s n would be stationed here to study. They would enroll officially, train properly, and graduate as magic knights themselves.
Knowing the academy administration, if those individuals were directly appointed by the King and enrolled for the full four years, they’d likely be placed into the Gold Class without hesitation.
That was just how things worked.
It was exactly what happened with Titania. As a foreign princess, she’d been placed into the Gold Class automatically. No questions. No debates. No resistance.
Of course, there were exceptions to that rule.
Prince Julius was one of them.
Back then, he’d only been placed in the Silver Class. Not because of a lack of status, but because of a choice. From what I’d heard, he’d chosen to stay in the sa class as Charlotte.
Co to think of it...
Prince Julius had been released from prison during the King’s funeral. A gesture of leniency. Or perhaps tradition.
Either way, it didn’t last.
He’d been thrown right back into the dungeon soon after. He wasn’t stable. That much was obvious. His eyes, his actions—none of it scread "reford."
There was always the chance he’d do sothing reckless again. Arson, sabotage, or sothing worse. Keeping that bastard locked up was the right decision.
Even if he was her son, the Queen didn’t strike as soone who would show rcy to a threat against the Kingdom’s sovereignty. Blood didn’t outweigh survival.
"Well then," I said, breaking the silence, "I guess we’ll just have to wait for her to return."
"I guess so..." Myrcella replied quietly.
A letter alone wouldn’t be enough to make any of this happen.
This wasn’t sothing that could be resolved with ink and formalities. Titania needed to return to Bethlan in person. This required a real conversation—one that allowed for nuance, reaction, and understanding.
Just to be safe, I asked Sandra to accompany her.
Not because I didn’t trust Titania—but because situations like this always had a way of going sideways when you least expected it.
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