After the break ended and everyone returned to the training yard, Sir Lyrios clapped his gauntlets together, the metallic CLANG echoing like a judgment bell.
"Prince Albion. Footwork training. Now."
Albion nodded, took his stance, and—
He moved.
Not gracefully.
Not elegantly.
But shockingly competently.
He stepped, pivoted, slid, and redirected his weight with practised precision. His feet weren't silent, but they were quick. His balance wasn't perfect, but it was strong. Even Sir Lyrios's helmet tilted ever so slightly — the closest thing to praise anyone had ever seen from him.
Wynn blinked. "Wait… he's actually… good at this?"
Eria, mouth full of grapes, nodded. "Yeah, that's surprising."
Tillroo squinted. "No offence to Albion, but… how?"
Albion hopped aside, twisted, and snapped into a balanced stance without wobbling even once.
He smirked.
"Once you've been forced to run back and forth between the two tallest towers in the kingdom for failing your breath attack practice, you get REAL good at footwork."
Aussa winced. "Wait, that actually happened?"
Albion pointed his sword toward the castle with the expression of someone who had witnessed horrors.
"They made me run from the North Tower to the East Tower. Twenty times. Uphill. In the rain. While the wind was actively trying to kill me."
Hiita burst laughing. "Oh my gods— did your dad really do that?"
Albion looked at her as he spoke. "Yes, you and Aussa don't know, because Eria, Wynn and Dharc were the only three there that day"
Lyna blinked her head as she spoke. "It was the day, I took Aussa and Hiita to the royal Library".
Eria just gave Albion a deadpan look.
"Uphill. Wind trying to kill you. In the rain… Albion, it was a sunny day. And the towers are literally right next to each other."
The entire group stared at him.
Albion froze mid-stance, wooden sword halfway raised.
Dharc crossed his arms. "Yeah, bro. I was there. You tripped over your own tail like three times, and Sir Lyrios kept saying 'again' until you stopped whining."
Wynn nodded. "Also, the towers are… what… forty steps apart?"
Albion's eye twitched.
"Twenty steps if you take the shortcut."
Aussa leaned against Hiita. "So what I'm hearing is… you were being dramatic."
Albion jabbed a finger at them.
"I was traumatized! Sir Lyrios stared at me the entire time! Do you have any idea what it's like to run under that helmet's gaze?!"
Sir Lyrios, standing just a few meters behind Albion, turned his helmet with a slow, ominous creak.
Albion stiffened like someone had pressed pause on him.
Vesiculo cupped a hand around her mouth, whispering loudly,
"He can hear you, you know…"
Housekee sighed, adjusting her glasses.
"He could hear him from anywhere. It's Sir Lyrios."
Chame nodded vigorously.
"Yeah! Last week, I said 'I don't get why he always looks so grumpy' from three hallways away and he just—"
She mimed the helmet slowly turning.
"—like he teleported anxiety into my soul."
Parla gently tapped her picnic basket. "I think he's just serious about training…"
Lyrios finally spoke, voice deep and resonant beneath the armor.
"Prince Albion. Your footwork is acceptable. Continue."
Albion's wings flared in shock.
"ACCEPTABLE?! That's basically royal praise!!"
The kids gasped.
Dharc whispered, "No way… we just witnessed a historical event."
Hiita grinned. "We should write this down. 'On this day, Sir Lyrios said something nice.'"
Aussa snickered. "Put it in the national archives."
Albion cleared his throat, trying to look dignified as he resumed footwork drills—
but the smug little smile on his face betrayed him.
Lyrios then turned toward Albion, shadows cast across his armor as he declared:
"Now, Prince Albion…
I will teach you a movement technique Dragons are famed for.
It is called— Dragoon Step."
The kids all leaned forward.
Vesiculo tilted her head, horns glinting in the sunlight.
"That sounds kinda like the plant-step technique my people use."
Lyrios slowly turned his helmet toward her.
"Perhaps. But the Traptrix Step manipulates the surrounding environment.
Roots, vines, shifting ground, hidden pits… nature assists you."
Vesiculo nodded proudly. "Exactly! It's elegant and efficient."
Lyrios raised a gauntleted finger.
"Dragoon Step is neither elegant nor efficient.
It is… forceful.
You do not move with the elements."
He tapped Albion's chest.
"You move through them."
Lyna blinked. "Through? Like… pushing past the wind?"
Wynn frowned. "Or resisting gravity?"
Aussa squinted. "Or ignoring friction?"
Eria deadpanned. "Or… physics in general?"
Lyrios nodded once, as if defying physics was the most normal thing ever.
"Correct. All of it."
The group froze.
Albion's eyes widened with awe.
"So you're saying— I can break physics?"
Lyrios rested a heavy hand on Albion's shoulder.
"Prince Albion.
You were born a dragon.
Breaking physics is your birthright."
Hiita grabbed Dharc's arm.
"Oh my gods— he said the coolest sentence ever."
Dharc nodded reverently. "I think I ascended a little."
Housekee adjusted her glasses.
"It does match historical records. Dragons have been known to perform short-range burst movements that appear like teleportation…"
Chame put her hands on her cheeks.
"ALBION'S GONNA LEARN THE ZOOM-ZOOM TECHNIQUE!"
Albion puffed out his chest, tail curling with excitement.
"I, Albion, first prince of the White Flame Dominion— will master the Dragoon Step!"
Lyrios raised a hand.
"Do not get ahead of yourself."
Albion deflated.
Then—
Lyrios suddenly vanished.
No sound. No burst of air. No steps.
Just— gone.
A split second later, he appeared behind the group, arms crossed.
All the kids screamed.
Parla threw her picnic basket straight up into the air.
Eria clutched her heart.
"WE JUST TALKED ABOUT PHYSICS— AND YOU KILLED THEM."
Vesiculo stumbled.
"How did— you were— I didn't even feel you move!"
Albion was trembling.
"H-He really broke physics…"
Lyrios nodded.
"That was Dragoon Step at one percent power."
The kids all collapsed.
Lyrios faced Albion again, folding his hands behind his back with the calmness of someone who absolutely just broke the laws of reality twice before breakfast.
"This," he said firmly, "is why you must first learn the basics.
Sword swings.
Footwork.
Balance."
He gestured to Albion's stance with a gauntleted finger.
"Once you master these fundamentals… then you will be able to perform techniques like Dragoon Step."
Before anyone could react—
Lyrios vanished.
No whoosh. No blur. Just gone.
Albion blinked.
"Sir Lyrios—?"
SHKK.
He reappeared behind a nearby tree, sword already sheathed, posture perfect.
The tree sat perfectly still for two seconds.
Then—
CRAACK—THUD!
The whole thing split cleanly in half and collapsed.
Every kid froze.
Eria's jaw dropped.
"...He didn't even TOUCH it…"
Hiita's hair puffed from shock.
"What— what KIND of anime nonsense—"
Dharc just whispered, "This is peak cool."
Parla clutched her picnic basket.
"Sir Lyrios… is scary…"
Albion, eyes shining like a kid watching fireworks, pointed at the fallen tree.
"That— THAT WAS AMAZING!"
Lyrios turned to him, voice calm and utterly deadly.
"That was ten percent power."
The entire group collapsed in synchronized terror.
Albion squeaked, "TEN?! Just ten?!"
Lyrios nodded casually.
"When used properly, Dragoon Step allows you to ignore wind resistance, shift your weight instantaneously, and deliver force faster than the human eye can track."
Albion blinked, awe flooding every scale of his being.
"…I WANT IT."
Lyrios placed a heavy hand on his shoulder.
"You will earn it.
For now— back to footwork."
Albion groaned dramatically.
Meanwhile, in the background, the two halves of the tree spontaneously slid apart again, because the cut was that clean.
Later that day, after training ended (and after Albion confirmed he did not permanently crack his legs from Sir Lyrios' lessons), he found himself in a far more "peaceful" environment:
The Royal Library.
A cavernous hall of floating candles, enchanted tomes, and shelves tall enough to threaten OSHA in every universe.
At a polished marble table sat Albion — legs dangling, face planted in a textbook, tail swishing restlessly.
Next to him, poised with perfect grace, House Dragon Maid stood in full tutor mode, glasses reflecting the golden lanternlight.
She flipped a page with dignified precision.
"And then," House read aloud, "King Hazel of the Fiendsmith Nation forged a peace treaty with Grapha, ending the 500-year war between the Fiendsmith Nation and the Maliss Empire."
Albion slowly raised his hand without lifting his head.
"Yes, Young Master Albion?" House asked.
Albion raised his face from the table.
"Why… why is the treaty called the Treaty of Please Stop Exploding Our Forge City?"
House did not blink. "Because, Young Master, the Maliss Nation would not stop exploding their forge city."
Albion stared. "…For five hundred years?"
House nodded. "Daily."
Albion buried his face in his hands.
"Of course they did."
House flipped another page.
"Following the treaty, the Fiendsmith Nation entered a technological renaissance, resulting in the creation of the first functional Dimension Furnace—"
Albion's head shot up.
"Oh! I know that one! Isn't that the device that—"
House cut in politely.
"—accidentally ripped a hole in space and dropped half of Fiendsmith's capital into the Sky Striker Nation."
Albion froze.
"…Ah."
House continued reading as if describing the weather.
"The Sky Striker Republic responded by politely asking them to never do that again, and promptly returned the half of the city via drone relay."
Albion stared blankly at the ceiling.
"Why is EVERYONE in this world insane?"
House delicately pushed up her glasses.
"Your Majesty lives here, Young Master."
Albion opened his mouth—
Paused—
And slowly closed it.
"…Okay, fair."
House smiled, pleased she had made her point.
"Now then, Young Master—shall we continue with the history of the Traptrix Forest and their seven generations of political assassinations?"
Albion whispered to himself:
"I miss the human world already…"
A few minutes later.
Albion blinked as he spoke. "There was a revolution?"
Houskee looked at him as she spoke. "Yes, that is why the current Government is ruled by Rafflesia and her sisters, a True Feminine Coded Society".
Albion just blinked as he spoke. "So, that's why the Original Traptrix Government is no longer a thing, explain why Vasiculo is called one of the Princess"
House looked at him as she fixed her glasses just like her daughter. "Yes, even do all them are assassin's"
"Yeah, I know that".
Houskee turned another page with a delicate flick of her finger, the faint rustle echoing through the silent Royal Library.
"After the Revolution," she continued, "the old council stepped down. The Rafflesia Lineage took control, restructuring the entire hierarchy. Every major department—diplomacy, security, education, even agriculture—was placed under one of the sisters."
Albion tilted his head. "So that's why Vasiculo holds the title of 'Princess Regent of Foreign Relations?' I always wondered how she got that job despite…"
He paused.
"…well, despite stabbing every diplomat she meets."
Houskee didn't even look up. "Diplomacy in Traptrix culture is… different."
Albion raised a brow. "By different you mean deadly?"
"Effective," she corrected, adjusting her glasses again. "The Traptrix government is built on deterrence. A nation is far less inclined to break treaties when the diplomat negotiating them can kill you with a handshake."
Albion hummed, surprisingly thoughtful.
"That… actually makes sense."
Houskee nodded approvingly. "Good. You're understanding the nuance. Culture shapes governance. Governance shapes history. That is what you must learn."
Albion gave a small grin. "I'm learning from the best, after all."
Houskee blinked, caught off-guard by the earnest compliment. The tips of her ears flushed the faintest pink, though her tone remained composed.
"A-hem. Flattery will not shorten your reading assignment."
"Darn."
She turned the page again.
"Now then, next chapter—'The Thorned Reform Act and the Decline of the Old Guard.' Pay attention, Albion. This part explains why the modern political system still forces even princesses into assassin training."
"Still kind of terrifying," Albion muttered.
"That," Houskee said as she adjusted her glasses once more, "is exactly the point."
The Thorned Reform Act — Full History
Houskee cleared her throat, sliding the thick, vine-bound volume toward Albion.
"Now pay attention," she said. "This chapter is important."
Albion nodded, leaning in.
---
The Origins — The Great Revolution
"Five hundred years ago," Houskee began, "after the Revolution toppled the Old Traptrix Government, the entire political structure was in shambles. The royal assassins, who once operated in secrecy, suddenly held enough power to overthrow nations."
Albion blinked. "So the assassins… were the politicians?"
"For one chaotic year," Houskee muttered with a sigh. "A terrible idea. Meetings had a body count."
She turned the page.
---
Why the Revolution Happened
1. Rampant Corruption
The Old Traptrix Council had grown decadent. They used civilians as bait, sold territories to other nations, and even forced young Traptrix into life-long assassin contracts.
2. The Vasilia Scandal
A young Traptrix girl named Vasilia was sold to a foreign nation.
This act lit the spark that ignited the Revolution.
3. The Rise of the Rafflesia Sisters
The seven daughters of the Rafflesia Matriarch unified every assassin clan and stormed the capital.
They executed the council in one night.
Albion squinted. "So… a coup?"
"A justified one," Houskee replied matter-of-factly. "The council had it coming."
---
The Thorned Reform Act — The New System
Houskee tapped the page gently.
"The Thorned Reform Act was written by the Rafflesia sisters themselves. Its goal was to prevent the chaos of the Old Guard from ever returning."
Albion leaned forward. "What does it actually do?"
Houskee listed each point with the precision of a tutor who had taught this dozens of times.
1. Only the Rafflesia Lineage May Rule
A hard rule.
No elections.
No councils.
Only princesses from the Rafflesia bloodline can take the throne.
Albion blinked. "So they made a dynasty."
"A stable one," Houskee added, "and the most competent."
---
2. All Princesses Must Train as Assassins
"No exceptions," Houskee said. "A Traptrix princess must be able to defend her throne with her own strength. Political power means nothing without blades to back it."
Albion muttered, "Explains why they can kill people with hairpins."
---
3. Diplomatic Immunity for Assassination
Albion lifted his head. "Wait—what!?"
Houskee nodded.
"It is not considered a crime for a princess to assassinate a foreign agent or leader if they threaten Traptrix sovereignty."
Albion slowly blinked.
"So 'diplomacy' is basically threat-based negotiations?"
"It is very effective diplomacy."
---
4. The Thorned Contract Registry
A massive system cataloging every assassin, noble, worker, and official.
"Total transparency," Houskee explained. "No hidden contracts. No secret killings without registering the reason."
Albion scratched his cheek.
"So the murder paperwork is… legalized."
"Streamlined," Houskee corrected.
---
5. Demilitarization of Old Assassin Clans
All private assassin groups were absorbed into:
The Princess Guard
The Thorned Intelligence Division
The Burrow Rangers
And the Root Court
This prevented clan wars.
---
6. Social Reforms
"Before the Act," Houskee said, "Traptrix society was brutal for women. Ironically."
Albion blinked. "How?"
"Assassins were tools, not citizens. No rights, no property, no education. The Rafflesia sisters changed that."
Reforms included:
Mandatory schooling
Freedom of profession (not just assassin work)
Legal property ownership
Anti-exploitation laws
"Many call the Rafflesia sisters tyrants," Houskee said softly. "But they liberated millions."
Albion nodded slowly, taking it in.
To be continued
Hope people like this ch and give me power stones and enjoy