Chapter 186. Protocol Is Just a Fancy Word for Make Everyone Uncomfortable
Clara offered a small, infuriatingly satisfied nod in Kaela’s direction, the kind of look that said she had won not just the argument but the moral high ground as well.
"Oh, you absolute snake," Kaela groaned dramatically, throwing her hands up toward the sky as if appealing to whatever gods might be listening. "That was a betrayal of the highest order!"
"An unfair alliance! I see how it is, Clara... You and the Instructor are conspiring to make my life a living hell!"
Clara didn’t even blink. "It’s not a conspiracy, Kaela... It’s called being correct!"
"You should try it sometime; it’s surprisingly liberating."
"I will strangle you with your own ponytail!" Kaela snapped, though her grin betrayed her.
She began to stalk off toward the equipment shed, muttering darkly about treason and the inevitable downfall of democracy.
"Try it, and I’ll file a formal complaint about property damage to your face," Clara shot back after her.
"That’s it! You’re dead!" Kaela spun around, lunging toward Clara with mock ferocity.
"Both of you, enough."
Ellie appeared between them like a calming breeze cutting through a thunderstorm. She didn’t raise her voice, but there was an authority in her stance that made both girls freeze mid-scuffle.
"We have drills to complete! If I hear one more word about ponytails or conspiracies before lunch, you’re both doing extra laps until you vomit!"
"Am I clear?"
"Crystal," Kaela muttered, rolling her eyes but backing off.
"Clear," Clara echoed, though she shot Kaela one last triumphant smirk.
William allowed himself a moment of genuine amusement at the exchange, watching the three of them disperse. For a heartbeat, the world felt normal, loud, chaotic, and full of life.
But as he watched them walk away, the levity evaporated, leaving behind the cold residue of the System’s earlier words. The weight settled back over him, quieter now, but no less persistent, like a predator waiting in the tall grass.
Lia Valestria.
Whatever Lia’s story actually was, whatever hollowed-out trauma she was carrying behind that mask of perfect discipline, William suspected he wasn’t going to like the truth.
And whatever the system meant by ’completing’ her particular thread, he had a growing, visceral feeling that it wouldn’t be a simple matter of trust or shared meals.
With Lia, the stakes felt dangerously higher. It felt like he would be asked to reach into a wound and pull out something she had spent years learning how to hide.
The days that followed were tense, filled with the routine grind of training, but the underlying unease never truly left him. He found himself watching Lia more closely during drills, not as an instructor assessing technique, but as a man trying to read the fine print on a contract written in blood.
Then, the announcement came.
It arrived three days later, delivered during the academy’s morning assembly with the kind of suffocating ceremonial formality usually reserved for royal visits, executions, or major academic milestones that changed the course of history.
The air in the courtyard felt unnaturally still as the headmaster stepped onto the podium, the sunlight glinting off the polished brass of the academy’s standard.
...
"The Valestria family," Headmaster Albert announced from the raised platform at the front of the courtyard, his voice cutting through the morning air with practiced authority. "has notified us of an official visit taking place two days from now."
"A representative of the family will be touring the academy grounds and observing our current training programs."
The effect was instantaneous. A ripple of hushed murmurs swept through the assembled students like wind through wheat, a specific kind of charged, nervous excitement that only surfaced when news touched one of the kingdom’s most ancient and formidable noble houses.
The Valestrias weren’t just nobles; they were architects of war, their reputation built on centuries of bloodline purity and ruthless military tradition.
William stood near the back with his students, his eyes instinctively scanning the crowd. He didn’t look at the headmaster; he looked at Lia.
The transformation was subtle, but to William, it was as obvious as a scream. The moment the name ’Valestria’ left Albert’s lips, Lia’s posture didn’t just straighten; it locked.
Her spine became a rod of iron, her shoulders squaring with a tension so severe it looked painful. Her face, already guarded, became something else entirely: a mask of carefully, deliberately blank porcelain.
Her eyes didn’t flicker; they went flat, distant, as if she had retreated somewhere deep inside herself where no one could reach her.
’There it is,’ William thought, a cold dread pooling in his stomach. ’That’s not respect...’
’That’s survival instinct.’
The following forty-eight hours transformed the academy into something William barely recognized. They systematically dismantled the familiar, comfortable chaos of student life and replaced it with a stifling, performative precision.
Staff he’d never seen outside routine maintenance suddenly materialized like ghosts in every corridor, polishing already spotless stonework until it gleamed dangerously.
Banners that had flown proudly for years were torn down and replaced with newer, more elaborate versions bearing the Valestria colors.
Even the junior instructors were being drilled on formal greeting protocols with a frantic intensity that reminded William more of combat preparation before a siege than a diplomatic visit.
"This is fucking ridiculous," Kaela announced during one of the mandatory formal etiquette briefings.
The room was filled with students practicing precise bow angles, but Kaela was a blot of defiance, slouched against the back wall with her arms crossed, her uniform rumpled in obvious protest.
"Why do I need to wear this stifling ceremonial bullshit for someone who’s basically just taking a fucking stroll through our courtyard?!" Kaela punched her own palm. "I’m a princess! I already know how to greet nobility!"
"I’ve been doing it since I could walk without falling over!"
"It’s protocol, Kaela," the junior instructor running the briefing said, his voice carrying the weary cadence of a man who had been explaining this seventeen times since sunrise.
"Protocol is just a fancy word for ’make everyone uncomfortable,’" Kaela shot back, tugging violently at the stiff fabric around her neck. "This collar is actively trying to strangle me!"
’I can feel my carotid artery screaming for mercy!"
"The Valestria family carries significant political and military influence," the instructor said, ignoring her complaint with practiced patience. "Headmaster Albert wants to ensure the academy makes an appropriate impression."
"Failure to show proper deference could be interpreted as an insult to their house."
"Sure, sure, ’don’t piss off the scary nobles,’" Kaela muttered, rolling her eyes so hard it looked painful. "But who is this mystery person anyway?!"
"Nobody has even said a name. Just ’a representative.’ That’s suspiciously vague for something we’re apparently rearranging the entire academy over!"
"What are they hiding? Is it some ancient duke with more wrinkles than sense, or something worse?"
William listened to her complaint, but his mind was elsewhere. He kept thinking about Lia’s face, that hollow, empty stare.
In his experience, when people prepared for a ’representative,’ they prepared for a guest. But when Lia reacted like that, it wasn’t as if she were expecting a guest.
It was as if she were expecting an executioner.
And on the other side, nobody could give Kaela a straight answer, and the lack of information acted like gasoline on the fire of student gossip.
Speculation spread through the dormitories and dining halls like a plague: rumors of ancient cursed swords, whispers of ruthless political assassins masquerading as diplomats, and wild theories about which Valestria heir was finally coming to inspect their ’pet’ academy.
While Kaela stewed in her irritation and William watched the storm clouds gather, Ellie seemed to be existing in an entirely different reality.
For her, the looming visit wasn’t a threat or a burden; it was a spectacle. She was practically vibrating with a manic, scholarly curiosity that made her seem like she was perpetually on the verge of either discovering a new spell or exploding from sheer excitement.
"I’m telling you, Clara, something big is coming," Ellie said, leaning across their shared table during a free period.
Her eyes were bright, darting around as if expecting the Valestria delegation to materialize out of thin air at any moment. "This isn’t just some middle-aged bureaucrat with a fancy seal! Think about the power dynamics!"
Clara didn’t look up from her journal immediately, though the way her quill paused mid-stroke betrayed her interest. "You’re spiraling again, Ellie..."
"It’s probably just a family elder coming to check if we’re still teaching basic arithmetic correctly."
"No, no, no! You’re missing the historical context," Ellie insisted, waving her hands emphatically. "I’ve been reading the old texts!"
"Some of the oldest noble houses, the ones who literally helped carve this kingdom out of the wilderness—they don’t just travel with guards!"
"They travel with enchanted honor guards. Actual constructs, Clara!"
"Golems or magical constructs built from enchanted stone or silver, programmed specifically to protect a single bloodline."
"Imagine seeing a three-meter-tall suit of animated armor walking through our courtyard."
Clara finally looked up, tapping her quill against her chin. "I think you’re getting catastrophically ahead of yourself."
"Even if they did bring constructs, they’d have to pass through the academy gates, which means they’d have to deal with the headmaster’s enchantments."
"They wouldn’t risk an international incident over a display of force."
"Unless the display of force is the point," Ellie countered, her voice dropping to an intense whisper. "What if the representative isn’t just here to observe?"
"What if they’re here to remind everyone exactly why the Valestrias own half the continent?"