Like a fish in water, Wilson did navigate the academy like it was the back of his hand. Alexus and Chris did their best to deter Alphonsus from actually speaking with him. They did a terrific job so far; other than Raphael and his goons, Alphonsus was never near his vicinity.
Still, his presence is felt at the academy. As it was in his last life, the Third Prince has been amassing support from the marginalized nobles. Individually, they are not really something to be alarmed with, but with the scale of their kingdom, the number of nobles on the lower end of the spectrum are numerous. Gathering them into one faction is quite alarming.
Wilson kept an ear on the news and gossip. Things were going to be how it was before, but it was missing a central figure who does the campaigns and publicity. It was the role he willingly took before, and it seems that no one can fit the bill this time around.
He mildly wondered how they will go forward at the later stage of this scheme. But not caring for it at this stage is more beneficial to him. Let them figure things out; only after they get organized will he see who stood out and could be painted with a target.
Putting them out of mind for now, he quickly seized possible talents he could bring over to his territory once his father got him out. He was reaching out to old friends whom he has not seen in years since he had to leave the academy. He wants to change that fact and planned to not lose contact with them.
He never thought how much he missed being around them. Even if Chris sometimes crashed over and threw them off guard, it was all good times. It made him forget of his hatred and live by his youngest brother's wish.
Still, the resentment was a gaping wound whenever he was alone, especially when the night comes and made him feel so alone.
"My lord," John said once he was finally at the privacy of his rooms. "Your father's reply had arrived."
Wilson motioned for John to place it on the table as he put away his journal. Reading the correspondence, Wilson smiled at the positive news. He can be discharged earlier than what the academy's standards are. The bad news is that it may take three months before it could be finalized.
According to his father, there were a couple of urgent issues on the territory that needed his immediate attention. Normally a vassal could do the procedure, but with the brewing political uncertainty with the princes, the head of the house needs to do the discharge procedure themselves. A typical measure the academy uses to maintain its neutrality in politics.
"...Three months," Wilson thoughtfully said. "It is not that long of a wait; however, things should enter a white-hot period here."
"Would you like me to clear out a few activities to give way for less involvement with the factions?" John suggested at the side.
Wilson only waved at the good intention. "No need for that. I can take care of that. But busy days are upcoming to you."
"As your servant, I'll be more than happy to welcome such days." John placed a hand just below his chest saying this. "Just tell me what I need to be mindful of to complete my tasks."
"I don't have many instructions for you." Wilson crumpled the correspondence. He stood up and brought it over the fireplace. Dropping it to the fire, he watched it burn as the flames ate it.
As the fire crackled, he gave John a few instructions before the servant left to take care of the matters.
Alone in this room, he looked at the clear skies outside his window. Opening it, he took a breath of the fresh evening wind. He looked down at the ground and observed a few people mingling to enjoy the evening.
"Hard to believe carefree days like this are about to be gone," Wilson said as he popped an arm onto the window rail. "Mundane and just a little scheming for grades. Simply a peaceful life without the chaos this country will descend into."
Suddenly, he had the urge to smoke. It was something he developed at a later age of his life back then. All his other senses were enhanced without his eyes. He was stressed out most of the time, especially at the early period of blindness. Adding to that was his irritation at being disabled and needing to be catered to function.
He hated himself back then. Angry at his disability. Frustrated at the fact he is no longer able to uphold his vows as the future head of the house.
Though he felt no regrets as it helped Alphonsus back then. His blindness allowed the Third Prince a time to seize an opportunity to gain an upper hand against his brothers. And most importantly, the Third Prince had used the incident to lure him with sweet nothingness by announcing their relationship to the masses. It allowed him to earn an identity beside the prince.
It might be the major factor why they didn't refuse the prince to drop by. Being in his presence uplifted his mood. That for a moment, Wilson did not feel so useless.
However, the time that the prince allocated to him is quite sparse. He never stayed long enough. Once he left, Wilson felt so restless.
To make his family less worried about his condition, he consulted a doctor. The doctor said that physically there is no problem with him, his illness was of the mind and could only be healed by time and the patience of family and loved ones. It is a long process and cannot be accelerated as it needed gradual healing of the psyche and heart.
Wilson was smart enough to understand that. But everything is driving him crazy. He cannot be without anything that could calm his nerves.
At his insistence the doctor provided him a pipe and a formula of calming herbs. He instructed him that this is a temporary measure to his problem. That if he felt he is being overwhelmed, he can light the pipe and smoke the prescribed herbs in the amount he specify.
It was easy to follow the instructions. Even when he was more or less forgiving to himself, the pipe stayed. Might have been a habit or simply a tool to ground himself, that pipe is always nearby.
Now in this new life of his, he does not have a pipe with him. There is no reason for him to have one here, so he felt like having a withdrawal from something so vital to him being out of reach. He could get one. It is easy to procure one as nobles have hobbies they enjoyed.
He thought about it for days, but still didn't act on it. It's just too easy for him and he will probably not find satisfaction achieving something within an arm's reach. After all, he knew the formula and the doses to keep him grounded. There is no need for consultations over it as he knew the process so intimately after doing it for six years.
Running a hand through his golden hair, Wilson sighed deeply as he decides to walk around to keep his mind off things. The night is rarely this tranquil. The gardens will do the trick, or he can drop off by the courtyard to simply tire himself out by going over sword forms.
Quick on his feet, he sprang to action. Grabbing his sword and changing to easy-to-move-around clothing, he left his room. And in the case John returned, he left a letter by the table to let him know where he would be.
Reaching his usual practice place, he mildly recounted the sword forms he was taught. At the end of the standard forms, he made a deviation. This time, his eyes are closed. Fierce and precise, his movements were basing on the sounds he is picking up from the winds.
This was something he had made during the second year of his blindness. He cannot let go of the sword. Without his eyes it was hard, so he learned to harness his other senses to continue with the sword.
It was a formidable technique. His father, a master of swords, praised his hard work, saying this sword form he made makes assassination hard. Wilson finally found a resemblance of pride from his broken one.
Picking up something at the side, out of habit, he reached out to a dagger he had with him and threw it without hesitation in that direction. He could hear the dagger embedding at the surface. Not turning to that area, he held his sword hard and listened to any more movement.
"I never thought the Thymes have this kind of sword technique with them." A familiar voice rang out in the silence. The sound made Wilson tense for a moment. He wanted to rush over and slash him with his sword.
After a deep breath, he opened his eyes. "Good to see you Prince Alphonsus. May the Spirits bless you."
"Rigid with formality as always." The prince had a teasing tone as he said this. Fully facing him, Wilson noted the younger features of his previous lover. Brunette hair and the signature golden eyes of the royal family.
"I think we're past the formality with our years here at the academy. Why don't you call me Alphonsus?"
"With how things are, your highness, it is unwise to address you with too much familiarity." Wilson put away his sword saying this. He didn't want to cause an incident and be accused of Lèse-majesté or worse, murder.
"When have you ever cared about that?" The prince walked near him. "It never bothered you before. Why start caring now?"
"I just grew up, your highness." Wilson replied as he made sure they had a distance between each other. It is unwise to make the changes abrupt, but he doesn't want to pretend and make himself suffer. "It's about time for me to head home. I cannot continue being a student anymore."
The prince was momentarily stunned at his words. Wilson could see why; he was banking on his participation. If he goes back and holds the family's mantle this early, he loses a support that can determine his success or failure.
"Did something happen to the Earl that made you need to go back this early? There are two more years before graduation. You can wait on it and all of us can help out each other by then." With perfect composure, the prince said with concern in his words.
"...Nothing of the sort, your highness." Wilson simply said. "It's just that my father is growing older. I think it is time for me to help him out. I had enough to start working with him. To be honest, I just stayed at the academy because my mother wanted me here."
Wilson trained his eyes to the prince who had a crack at the mention of needing to step up to his father's role. With how ambitious the prince is, he likely wanted to do something similar and be the king of their country. But he is only the Third Prince, his mother is not influential, and he is not the most outstanding out of the three princes; he simply has no chance on the throne.
At most he can be a duke or an earl after he came of age. A lord of a considerable land with ample resources as the king's son. If he is excellent at leading his land, he can have his titles and land hereditary to all his descendants and not only until the 4th generation if his children are incompetent.
"I'm sure your father is proud of you," The prince said with pretension. "But don't you want to connect more with our peers? If you are set on leaving early, I can call up a little banquet with all our like-minded friends to have a get-together before you leave."
Wilson smiled at the prince's subtle attempts to make it sound like he was still part of his faction. He wanted to refuse, but he suddenly thought it was better to attend it once before he left. He can use the opportunity to spread a word of distance there.
Giving his word to the prince, Alphonsus was visibly happy to hear his agreement. Wilson only maintained an artificial benevolence in front of him. And when the prince was about to leave, Wilson reached out to a small line that appeared on the prince's face.
"Forgive me about earlier, your Highness." Wilson said as he wiped the blood that seeped from that faint line from the dagger he threw. The wound was thin enough before blood finally formed a line and announced it existed.
The prince was alarmed at the blood on Wilson's finger. He reached out for a handkerchief and wiped his face clean. He played off the wound to be something he deserved for disturbing him. He said not to mind it and he'll be leaving now.
Wilson thanked the prince for his generosity. He watched him leave the courtyard. Once he was no longer on sight, he licked the blood on his finger. Like a beast set to maim his prey, his eyes were unforgiving and patient enough to make the hunt satisfying enough.