Chapter 67: Fairest chance

“Are you saying that the noble houses secretly control the Academy?” William asks, a frown of confusion gathering on his brow.

​“I never said that,” Mark replies, leaning back against his desk. “What I am saying is that while this place is not legally bound to the Empire, it still resides within its borders. Even though it operates outside the authority of the Crown, it was founded by the Crown. And even if our professors have formally renounced their noble titles... they were still raised in those families, weren't they?”

​He pauses, letting the implication hang in the quiet air.

​“Paper oaths do not erase a lifetime of blood, tradition, or personal bias.”

Mark gives the students a quiet moment to digest his words.

​Before he can continue, a sullen voice breaks the silence. One of the loner students from the South—his brow furrowed in a sharp scowl—speaks up.

​“So what you’re saying... is that the rest of us are just existing here at the whims of the nobility?”

​Mark turns toward him, his expression calm and unbothered. “That is not the case. To exert true influence over the decisions made within this Academy, one must possess six things: Strength, Power, Glory, Means, Grounds, and—most importantly—the Cost required to back it up.”

​Mark lets his gaze sweep across the entire room, his voice dropping into a solemn register.

​“And among the nobility, only the paramount houses I just listed possess the weight to pull those levers.”

After contemplating Mark's words for a moment, Edward speaks up again. “So... does that mean nobles are going to have an easier time here at the Academy?”

​“Relatively speaking? Yes, they will,” Mark answers candidly. “However, that does not mean the rest of you are doomed to suffer. The exact same academy rules apply to them as they do to you.”

​“How can they have an easier time if the rules are identical for everyone?” a girl from the front row asks, her tone laced with suspicion.

​Mark leans back against his desk, crossing his arms. “Well, consider this: a student belonging to the same noble house as a professor might receive extra pointers or private lectures after class. When a practical assignment requires pairing up, subtle preferences might grant them a slight advantage. Or, if a professor needs a student assistant for a valuable task, a noble face might naturally come to mind first.”

​“And they don't get in trouble for doing that?” Caleb asks, leaning forward in his seat.

​“Trouble? For what?” Mark counters, a wry smile touching his lips. “For tutoring someone during their own personal time? For choosing a specific student assistant? Or for pushing a commoner student a little harder during drills? None of those actions violate a single rule of this Academy, do they?”

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“Does that mean the rules are completely useless, then?!” a student calls out, indignation burning in his voice.

​“To the truly powerful? Often, yes,” Mark answers smoothly. “But to you? Absolutely not.”

​He pauses, stepping toward the center of the platform and letting his sharp gaze lock onto the student.

​“Do any of you actually know why rules exist in the first place?”

​A tense silence fills the room as Mark delivers his final truth.

​“Rules exist for the weak. Rules are the chains that bind the strong, and the shield that protects the vulnerable. As commoners in a world of high bloodlines, that shield is the only thing standing between you and destruction—and you had better learn how to use it to protect yourselves.” Mark stops for a moment and his voice softens “That is my advice as a senior and commoner student who has spent years in the academy”

.William spends the rest of the day lying in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. He even skips his evening workout, completely lost in the weight of Mark’s words.

​Was that too pragmatic, or is that just how things work here in the academy? William wonders, turning the thoughts over in his head. Maybe I need to experience it firsthand to understand it... but how does someone actually go about using rules as a shield?

​His spiraling thoughts are broken by a firm knock on the door, followed by Edward’s loud voice calling from the hallway.

​“William! It's time for dinner. You know if we're late, the food is just going to vanish by itself.”

​William gets up from his bed and opens the door, finding Edward waiting for him with a gesture to follow.

​As they walk down the hallway toward the dining hall, William breaks the silence. “So... did you think about what Mark said today?”

​Edward stops dead in his tracks and looks back at him. “Yes. And to be honest, it’s mostly just like I expected. In fact... it’s probably better.”

​William frowns in confusion. “What do you mean?”

​Edward lets out a soft sigh before continuing. “William, you spent your life as a common shop helper, right? The highest-ranking person you ever interacted with back home was probably an official city clerk or a guard, wasn't it?”

​William carefully nods in agreement.

​Edward resumes walking, his expression serious. “I spent my childhood as the heir to the largest merchant house in the western part of the Empire. From the age of six, I started learning how high society actually operates. That included understanding nobles and their way of thinking. And let me tell you... inside this academy, no matter how unfair you think it is, this place is the fairest chance you will ever get at life.”

​Finishing his sentence, Edward pushes open the doors and walks into the dining hall, leaving a stunned William standing alone in the corridor.