When we returned home, Father told me to freshen up before joining him for lunch.
That was unusual. Our family generally reserved shared meals for dinner on weekends, which meant this wasn't simply an invitation to eat.
Father had something to discuss.
I just hoped it wouldn't involve another unexpected responsibility.
***
The dining hall of our residence was unusually quiet.
I sat across from Father, staring at the dishes spread across the table. The meal looked less like lunch and more like a banquet prepared for a visiting dignitary.
"Is all this really necessary?"
Father continued eating. "You've been surviving on mortal food for years. Now that you're awakened, you can finally handle something better."
"That doesn't explain why there's enough food here to feed a small raid team."
"It's a family meal," Victoria said as she placed another dish on the table. "Try not to look so offended by the idea."
I gave her a flat look.
She smiled sweetly.
I decided my energy was better spent eating than arguing with her.
The bowl nearest me contained pale-gold broth, its surface shimmering with faint wisps of light. Even before tasting it, I could sense the energy concentrated within.
I took a sip.
The delicate, almost floral taste spread warmth through my body. A moment later, the dull fatigue lingering in my mind began to fade. My thoughts grew clearer, and the heaviness I'd grown accustomed to seemed to lift.
I lowered the bowl and took another sip, this time paying closer attention to the effect.
"Spirit Lotus Broth. SS-Rank cuisine?"
Father nodded. "It restores mental fatigue and helps maintain concentration. Useful for someone who spends as much time thinking as you do."
I glanced at the remaining broth.
"How expensive is this?"
"Your yearly allowance could probably buy half a bowl."
I nearly dropped my spoon.
Half a bowl.
I'd spent years calculating expenses, weighing purchases, and avoiding unnecessary spending in my previous life. Even in this one, my allowance was barely enough to keep me from embarrassing myself in front of others.
Meanwhile, Father had apparently decided that feeding me something worth a small fortune was perfectly reasonable.
"Then why serve it to me?"
"Because it was prepared for you."
He returned to his meal as though that settled the matter.
I studied him for a moment.
Father wasn't particularly good at grand emotional gestures. He didn't give long speeches about family or insist that I understand how much he cared.
He simply noticed a problem and dealt with it.
Sometimes, that was more difficult to argue against.
I took another sip.
I'd complain about my allowance later.
Probably.
"Your mother won't be returning anytime soon," Father said.
I looked up.
"Has something happened?"
"The Royal Family requested her assistance. A plague has been spreading through several districts near the Northern Borders, and the royal physicians haven't managed to bring it under control."
My appetite diminished.
"How dangerous is it?"
"Dangerous enough that they've requested one of the kingdom's finest healers. Not dangerous enough that I'd allow your mother to go there without confidence in her abilities."
His tone was calm, but I knew better than to mistake that calmness for indifference.
Father wouldn't dismiss a genuine threat merely to reassure me.
"Has the cause been identified?"
"Not completely. That's part of why they need her."
Victoria set down a serving dish.
"Lady Scarlet has dealt with worse. She once isolated a mutated blood plague before the royal doctors had even figured out how it was spreading."
I turned towards her. "I hadn't heard about that."
"Most people haven't. Her findings eventually became compulsory reading for royal medical scholars."
Victoria adjusted the dishes.
"Your mother has a habit of making other doctors look incompetent. It doesn't help her popularity."
"That sounds like a personal problem for the other doctors."
"It is. They insist on making it everyone else's problem."
I almost smiled.
The information eased some of my concern, but it didn't eliminate it.
Mother was exceptionally capable. That didn't make her invulnerable.
A plague of unknown origin was spreading near the Northern Borders, and the Royal Family had called her in because its own physicians couldn't handle the situation. There was no reason to assume the worst, but neither was there enough information to dismiss the danger.
"Does she have everything she needs?" I asked.
"Your mother knows how to prepare for her work," Father replied. "If she needs anything from us, she'll ask."
It wasn't quite an answer, but I understood what he meant.
Worrying from here wouldn't help her. Without knowing more about the plague, there was little I could do beyond trust her judgment.
It was an irritating lesson of adulthood: sometimes, the only available choice was to wait.
Father took a sip of tea.
"There's another matter worth knowing about."
I looked at him.
"The Crown Prince's class information has leaked to the public."
That caught my attention.
"The announcement confirming it has caused quite a stir," Father continued.
I leaned back slightly.
The Crown Prince of the Eternal Forest Kingdom had awakened as an 'Arms Merchant', an A-Rank class associated with weapons, contracts, military supplies, and profit from conflict.
The reaction had been predictable.
Some nobles feared that a prince who benefited from war would have little incentive to prevent one. Others suspected he might deliberately prolong conflicts to increase his influence. There were already people questioning whether someone with such a class should inherit the throne.
Nova's assessment appeared in my mind.
[People have a remarkable talent for turning a single piece of information into an entire personality.]
[An Arms Merchant can certainly profit from war. Weapons don't sell themselves, and military contracts become more lucrative when people start killing one another.]
[However, wars also destroy trade routes, disrupt production, and destabilize the markets such a merchant depends on.]
[A clever Arms Merchant might have more reasons to prevent a war than to start one.]
[The class determines which opportunities someone is naturally suited to exploit. It doesn't dictate how they choose to exploit them.]
That was a useful distinction.
"People are assuming he'll start wars for profit," I said. "But that would be a rather short-sighted way to use the class."
Father gave me a brief, approving nod.
"Public opinion rarely waits for a complete analysis."
"Then why confirm the class in the first place? If the Royal Family knew how people would react, keeping the information ambiguous would've been simpler."
"Perhaps. But secrecy has its own costs."
Father set down his cup.
"The previous king awakened as a Pyromancer. When the public learned of it, people feared he'd become a tyrant who burned anyone who opposed him."
I raised an eyebrow.
"And yet, he's ruled for more than three centuries."
"Correct."
Victoria placed a fresh cup of tea beside Father.
"There was a rebellion, too."
"A brief one," Father added.
"Brief enough to be forgotten by everyone who didn't participate."
I looked between them.
I wasn't sure which part was more disturbing: that a rebellion had been treated as a minor inconvenience, or that Victoria sounded almost disappointed by how quickly it had ended.
Still, Father's point was clear.
The previous king's class had frightened people, but his reign had ultimately been judged by what he did with his power, not merely by what he might have done.
The Crown Prince faced a similar problem.
"Do you think the Royal Family deliberately allowed the information to leak?" I asked.
"It's possible," Father replied. "They may prefer to let the public react now, while there's still time for the controversy to settle. Better than having the same argument erupt during the succession."
I considered that possibility.
If the revelation had been deliberate, the Royal Family was forcing the kingdom to confront its fears before the Crown Prince inherited the throne. The public would argue, the nobles would speculate, and opportunists would use the controversy to advance their own interests.
Eventually, the noise might fade.
Or it might not.
Either way, the Royal Family would learn something about the people who claimed to support the Crown Prince.
Not a bad strategy, provided they could control the consequences.
"Politics really is an elaborate way of making everyone suspicious of everyone else," I muttered.
Father picked up his cup again.
"You're beginning to understand it."
"I'd rather not."
"An understandable preference."
He said it so plainly that I couldn't tell whether he was agreeing with me or mocking me.
Knowing Father, it was probably both.
Arial quietly refilled my juice. She'd been listening to the conversation, and the concern that had crept into her expression during our discussion of the plague had gradually eased.
"Lady Scarlet will be all right, won't she?" she asked softly.
I glanced at her.
"I believe so. She's more than capable of handling herself."
Arial nodded, seemingly reassured by the answer.
"Then I hope she returns soon."
"So do I."
Her small smile made it easier to leave the subject there.
There were more important matters to discuss than the Crown Prince's leaked class.
At least, more important to me.
***
"Father, what should I expect from the Academy?"
He studied me for a moment before answering.
"Sage's Vision Academy isn't a place where your family name will carry you very far."
"I assumed it would open a few doors."
"It'll open the gate. Don't confuse that with being welcomed inside."
I sighed. I should have expected an answer like that.
"The Academy gathers some of the most talented young people on the continent," Father continued. "Noble heirs, princes, saint candidates, future generals, exceptional commoners, and people whose abilities make ordinary standards almost meaningless. Many will have spent their entire lives being praised as geniuses. Then they'll arrive and discover they're surrounded by others just as talented."
"Sounds pleasant."
"Some will be better trained than you. Others will have more resources, stronger connections, or abilities you haven't encountered before. And a few will probably be walking disasters disguised as students."
"Actual monsters?"
"Not literally."
Victoria placed another dish on the table.
"Since you have an appraisal skill, you'll understand when you meet them."
I glanced at her.
"That isn't reassuring."
"It wasn't intended to be."
I turned back to Father.
"So I'll be competing against people who've spent their lives preparing for this."
"Some of them. Others will have reached the same level through entirely different circumstances. The Academy cares little about how impressive your background sounds. It cares about what you can do with it."
"And if I lose?"
"You will."
I stared at him.
Father continued eating as though he'd just commented on the weather.
"You'll lose some fights and win others. Some people will underestimate you. Others will challenge you for the wrong reasons. And some won't bother acknowledging your existence."
"Comforting."
"You wanted to know what to expect."
"I was hoping for something more encouraging."
"Then you should've asked someone less honest."
Victoria covered a smile with her hand.
My family had collectively developed an unhealthy interest in making my life difficult.
Perhaps it was hereditary.
Father finally set his utensils aside.
"The Academy will give you opportunities you wouldn't find elsewhere. Use them. Learn what you can, build relationships worth keeping, and don't waste your time trying to prove yourself to everyone you meet."
I listened quietly.
"Your family name will get you through the gate," he continued. "After that, what you accomplish belongs to you. So do your best."
There was no grand declaration behind his words.
No demand that I uphold the family's honour. No expectation that I surpass my cousins or establish myself as some great figure.
Just a reminder that the opportunity was mine, and whatever I made of it would be my responsibility.
That suited me far better than a lecture about ambition.
I'd never been particularly interested in becoming someone extraordinary.
I wanted the freedom to decide what kind of life I would lead.
The Academy might make that difficult, but perhaps it would also give me the means to secure that freedom.
More importantly, it would bring me closer to the people I needed to observe.
I couldn't afford to lose sight of that objective once I arrived. Whatever opportunities the Academy offered, my real purpose would remain the same.
Finding and then keeping the Chosen One alive without drawing attention to myself.
A simple objective in theory.
The trouble with simple objectives was that the world rarely cooperated.
"I understand," I said.
Father nodded, apparently satisfied.
"Good."
He rose from his seat and straightened his clothes.
"I'll leave you to enjoy the rest of your meal."
I relaxed.
Finally, a conversation that had ended without another responsibility being placed on my shoulders.
Then Father paused near the doorway.
"Your preparatory training with the Grand Elder begins tomorrow morning."
I froze.
Slowly, I turned towards him.
"With the Grand Elder?"
"Yes."
"You couldn't have mentioned that before?"
"I just did."
"Before finishing your meal, Father."
He considered my suggestion with the seriousness of a man evaluating a particularly questionable business proposal.
"No."
He left.
I stared at the empty doorway for several seconds.
Then I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes.
The Academy hadn't even started, and my peaceful life was already being dismantled, one carefully planned inconvenience at a time.
Across the table, Victoria began clearing the dishes.
"You knew about this, didn't you?"
"About the training with the Grand Elder?"
"Yes."
"I suspected."
"You could've warned me."
Victoria smiled.
"And deprive myself of this moment?"
I opened one eye.
"I hope you understand that betrayal has consequences."
"I'm terrified."
Arial lowered her gaze, but not before I caught the small smile she was trying to hide.
I looked at the two of them, then at the half-finished bowl of Spirit Lotus Broth.
At least the meal had been worth the expense.
Tomorrow, I'd begin preparing for the Academy.
And somewhere beyond the comfort of my family's residence, the life I wanted to avoid was waiting to become considerably more complicated.
I took another spoonful of broth.
I had a feeling I'd need it.