Free Web NovelChapter 397: For now, lay down the quill
That was Julian’s initial thought, building an academy. But as the chalk scraped against the board, his realistic mind began to analyze the intense social hurdles.
The high-ranking nobles of the empire were very prideful, bound by centuries of volatile class segregation. They would undoubtedly feel insulted at the mere suggestion of their heirs sitting in the same classroom as a greenhouse keeper’s daughter or a blacksmith’s son.
I will have to enact a structured system, Julian analyzed internally, his mind automatically organizing the administrative framework. A merit-based system where advancement is determined by intellect and effort, not bloodlines. I must ensure that no child, regardless of their background, gets left behind.
Ah, but to open a legal provincial academy of that scale, he would face the ultimate political barrier: he needed the Emperor’s official, signed approval.
Julian twisted his lips slightly, a small sigh escaping him as he thought about how Emperor Aurelian might make things incredibly difficult for him just out of spite.
Given the current chaotic, unhinged state of the sovereign’s mind—especially after the situation Alaric had witnessed—submitting a proposal right now might only end in a disaster.
Perhaps I should wait a little longer until the atmosphere settles before I formally submit it, Julian decided, his fingers tightening around the chalk. For now... I will just write the formal letter and perfect the blueprint.
With a renewed sense of purpose, he turned back to his five eager students, his voice filling the room with the beautiful, rich history of the land they were all destined to inherit.
After the class was over, Julian got to work.
His quill scratched against the parchment, the mid-day sun streaming through the grand study windows and illuminating the neat lines of his elegant handwriting.
His brow was furrowed in deep, academic concentration as he drafted the outline for the Northern Academy, mapping out the curriculum that would one day allow common and noble children to sit side by side.
It was perfect.
Click.
The door opened smoothly, and the heavy, grounding scent of leather and mountain frost filled the room. Julian didn’t even have to look up to know who it was.
Alaric walked in, wearing a white shirt that exposed his tanned chest completely, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
He moved with a quiet, heavy stride, pausing right behind Julian’s chair. He leaned down, placing one large hand on the back of the seat while the other rested on the edge of the desk, effectively trapping the scholar in a warm embrace as he peered over his shoulder.
"What are you writing so intensely, scholar?" Alaric rumbled, his deep voice vibrating right against Julian’s ear. "I could hear your thoughts from the corridor."
Julian offered a soft smile, tilting his head back to look up at the Duke’s sharp blue eyes. He picked up the parchment, offering it to him.
"A proposal." He said, "I’ve been thinking about the children playing in the gardens yesterday, and... I want to establish an academy here in the North. One where status doesn’t dictate a child’s right to knowledge."
Alaric took the letter, his eyes scanning the elegant script with a quiet, profound respect. A trace of warmth softened his rugged features. He set the paper back down on the desk, his hand sliding over Julian’s shoulder.
"It’s a brilliant idea, Julian," Alaric said softly, his voice carrying an absolute, unyielding pride in his partner’s brilliant mind. "But the letter can wait another day."
Julian blinked, a slight pout touching his lips. "Lucien, if I don’t write it now, the momentum—"
"When it is finished, I will personally handle the rest. I will help you send it to Aurelian myself with the permanent Northern seal attached to it," Alaric interrupted smoothly, a rare, incredibly tender smirk playing on his lips. He leaned down, capturing Julian’s lips in a brief, deep kiss that left the scholar completely breathless. "But for now, lay down the quill."
A wave of profound relief and affection washed over Julian’s chest. The underlying anxiety of how Aurelian might reject the proposal completely dissolved under Alaric’s fierce promise.
Julian turned slightly in his seat, wrapping his arms around the Duke’s neck to return the kiss, deepening it for a sweet, lingering moment before Alaric gently pulled away, reminding him that the day was moving fast.
With a final, affectionate squeeze of Julian’s hand, Alaric left the study, heading to his own quarters to finally change into his formal attire—an immaculate, commanding white doublet lined with silver fox fur that mirrored the pristine winter landscapes of his domain.
As the afternoon dissolved into the twilight of the golden hour, the grand ballroom of the Alaric estate came alive with spectacular grandeur.
Massive crystal chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceilings, their thousands of enchanted candles casting a warm, shimmering amber glow over the gathering aristocracy.
True to his word, Emperor Aurelian made his grand entrance. Clad in his tailored midnight-blue velvet, his expression was flawless, cold, and entirely detached as the lords and ladies lined the hall, bowing their heads to exchange the necessary political pleasantries.
Behind him, hovering like a silent, elegant shadow in the gallery, was Norx. The deity’s crimson eyes gleamed with a lazy, wicked amusement as he watched the mortals play their games, his gaze occasionally locking onto the back of the Emperor’s neck with a private, possessive intensity.
Across the ballroom, the children were gathered near the grand dais. Outside, they had been wild and full of laughter, but now, the heavy weight of their bloodlines took precedence.
Prince Cassian stood with absolute, rigid perfection, his chin high and his hands clasped neatly behind his velvet-clad back, effortlessly embodying the future ruler of the empire.
Beside him, Princess Liora stood with a graceful, quiet poise, her golden eyes scanning the room with regal composure.
Even young Lucius, Bellard, and Betty—who had been dressed in fine garments courtesy of the estate—upheld the dignity of the house, maintaining a quiet decorum as the lower-ranking nobles offered them respectful bows.
Everyone was invited to witness this historical moment.
From the edge of the grand hall, Alaric stepped out of the shadows, his towering, white-clad frame immediately drawing the eyes of the entire room. He bypassed the gathering, his sharp focus locking onto his son.
Alaric walked over, placing a large, heavy hand on Lucius’s shoulder, tapping it twice.
"It’s time, boy," the Duke rumbled softly, his blue eyes burning with a sudden, intense nervous anticipation.
Lucius looked up at his father, a bright, knowing grin instantly breaking through his stiff composure. He gave a sharp, confident nod. "Right, Father."
Lucius slipped out of the ballroom. He moved quickly down the quiet eastern wing of the manor, his leather boots clicking against the polished stone floor.
He was dressed in a formal white suit with shorts, the silver embroidery along his cuffs catching the dim wall sconce light as he walked.
Inside his small chest, the young boy’s heart was hammering with a fierce, giddy excitement.
He knew exactly what was waiting at the end of the grand staircase. He had spent the last week watching his father meticulously coordinate the staff, smuggle in thousands of rare winter lilies, and design a blueprint that had nothing to do with warfare and everything to do with a happily ever after.
To be trusted with the final, most crucial step of the plan made a bright, proud warmth bloom in his belly.
He reached the heavy oak doors of the scholar’s quarters, took a quick, stabilizing breath to smooth down his wild grin, and knocked precisely three times.
The door opened almost instantly.
Julian stood on the threshold, completely breathtaking. The immaculate white silk doublet fitted his slender frame flawlessly, the delicate silver threads along the lapels catching the light like fresh frost. He was already wearing the attire the maids had delivered, his hair neatly brushed back and his pale face radiating nicely.
The moment Julian’s vibrant blue eyes landed on Lucius, he froze. He didn’t even need to be able to read minds to know something massive was happening; the sheer excitement practically rolling off Lucius in waves was loud enough to fill the entire corridor.
The boy was practically vibrating in his boots, his eyes wide and sparkling.
"Lucius?" Julian asked softly, a nervous, anticipating flutter rising in his own chest. "Is it time?"
"It’s time, Master," Lucius said, his voice small but carrying a profound, serious weight that mirrored his father’s demeanor. It was officially time for him to have a new mommy.
He stepped back, offering a perfectly practiced, respectful bow before extending his hand toward the corridor. "Father is waiting. Everyone is waiting. Follow me."
Julian let out a slow, shaky breath, his fingers tightening slightly against the smooth silk of his sleeve.
The underlying mystery of the past week, the secret carriages, and the hushed conversations were finally drawing to a head.
With a racing heart and a soft, wondering smile, he stepped out of his room and followed the young boy down the long, winding path toward the grand hall.
Meanwhile, in the grand ballroom, the heavy murmurs and gossips rose like a tide, blending with the clinking of crystal and the soft hum of the mages’ lanterns.
As the lords and ladies filed past the imperial dais, offering their deeply practiced bows, a restless wave of whispering began to ripple through the lower ranks.
The source of their unease was entirely blatant.
