Pete had been half-listening at first, his attention snagging not on the danger of a dungeon but on the murmured comments about Brixton being the least prosperous of the four cities.
His chair scraped back as he stood abruptly. "With respect," he began, voice carrying just enough to silence the nearest conversations, "A duchy as powerful as Thornevale should be able to take proper care of its lands. If Brixton can't even survive under their rule, perhaps it's time the empire stepped in. Maybe they need someone with... expertise to show them how it's done."
A ripple went through the room — conversations froze mid-sentence, eyes darting from one another to Ace. Some students leaned in, eager for a clash, others, more cautious, shrank back, waiting for the storm to break.
Ace's gaze slid slowly from Pete to Catherine, his stare like an unspoken verdict. Catherine's eyes immediately flicked away, but it was too late. The slight, imperceptible shift in her posture told Ace everything he needed to know.
That reaction confirmed what he already suspected — she had likely poured the emperor's grievances into the hero's ear.
The empire for generations want to interfere with the cities under the thornevale duchy, but they couldn't as the thornevale even care about emperors direct orders when it comes to their territory.
With a quiet sigh, Ace spoke, his tone calm yet edged with steel. "You speak of things you don't understand, Pete," he said, the name like a warning. "You haven't seen Brixton with your own eyes. You haven't walked through its streets, felt the weight of its history, the blood spilled over centuries. Think for yourself, and stop letting others steer you into battles you aren't ready to fight."
The words hung in the air like the stillness before a storm. Pete's jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling with the effort to control his temper.
Pete's expression was one of righteous defiance, the hero persona swelling within him. "I'll listen to everyone," he said, his voice lifting with the force of conviction, chest puffed. "As the hero, it's my duty to hear all voices. Even if they're difficult to hear."
The tension grew unbearable. Some students exchanged nervous looks, a few glancing at Ace, unsure how far he'd let this go. Others, emboldened by Pete's words, leaned forward, eager for Ace's reaction.
But Ace didn't react. Not immediately. His eyes, dark and unyielding, locked onto Pete's with a weight that made those closest to him instinctively look away. The silence stretched, suffocating.
And then, Ace spoke again, his voice a soft murmur that was anything but gentle. "You may be the hero, Pete," he said, each word deliberate. "But don't confuse your title with wisdom."
Eldrin interjected. "We have a lesson to finish, and I fear we've already taken too long on matters that—while important—are not for this classroom."
Pete sat down hearing Eldrin and the lesson started.
At evening, the training hall was filled with the steady rhythm of steel slicing through air. Sunlight poured in from the high windows, glinting off Ace's white hair and tracing silver arcs along the edge of his blade. His movements were fluid and controlled, each swing ending in perfect stillness before beginning again.
The heavy wooden door creaked open, and Lucy stepped inside. She hesitated for a moment, as if gauging whether it was safe to interrupt, before walking forward. Her shoes clicked softly against the polished floor.
"Brother, you should have objected earlier," she began, voice carrying a faint edge. "When they named the cities for the expedition… you could have had them add another Thornevale city. One more prosperous. Instead, you let Brixton stand alongside the others."
Ace didn't answer immediately. His sword came to an abrupt stop mid-swing, the steel humming faintly in the sudden silence. He slowly lowered it, the light in his eyes calm but unreadable.
"And why," he asked evenly, "would I object?"
Lucy blinked, surprised at the question. "Because… because they'll compare it to the other cities. Brixton doesn't have the same shine. The nobles will talk. They'll say Thornevale can't manage its own lands—"
"Nothing would change form their talks ," Ace said, cutting her off, though his tone remained calm.
He turned away slightly, gazing at the sunlight spilling across the floorboards. From both the novel's events and Ace's memories, he knew Brixton's reality well.
The high-ranked dungeon near its borders made it dangerous, yes—but that same danger had forged a city of people who endured. Citizens had lived there for generations. If it had truly been unlivable, the place would have been abandoned long ago.
Lucy frowned. "But—"
"Send a letter to the duchy," Ace said, shifting his sword to one hand and stepping toward the rack where other weapons were neatly arranged. "Tell them to send additional guards for the expedition. Preferably master-ranked and sages."
She stared at him. "Master-ranked? Sages? For a hero's tour of noble territories?"
"Yes." His tone left no room for discussion. "Caution doesn't harm ."
Her lips parted as if to argue, but she closed them again. The look in his eyes was enough to tell her he had already thought this through to the end.
Finally, she bowed. "Understood."
Ace gave a slight nod and returned to his stance, resuming his swings with the same measured precision as before. The sound of the blade cutting through air followed her as she turned to leave, her mind buzzing with questions she didn't dare voice.
The next morning, the hallway outside Ace's private quarters was already tense. Two of Thornevale's first-rate guards stood like statues on either side of the door.
In front of them, Emilia Vel'Faera stood with her hands on her hips, golden-green hair catching the sun in a cascade of light.
"I have told you thrice already," she said, her tone dangerously sweet in that way only noble-born women could manage, "I am Princess Emilia Vel'Faera. Do you understand? A princess. And you—" her eyes narrowed, "—are standing in my way."
The guards didn't even blink.
One of them spoke evenly, "Our orders stand, Your Highness. No entry without Lord Ace's permission."
Emilia's lips pressed into a thin line. "Permission? You should be opening the door before I even finish speaking my name—"
Her words cut off when a calm, pleasant voice drifted down the corridor.
"Princess Emilia?"
She turned to see Alric Solarian, Crown Prince of the Solarian Empire, approaching with the easy grace of someone used to every eye in the room turning toward him. He gave a polite half-bow.
"It's an honor to see you here so early in the day," he said with a practiced warmth. "How are you finding the Empire?"
Instantly, Emilia's noble temper shifted into polished princess poise. Her chin lifted slightly, her voice softer but still laced with pride. "It's… different, but quite impressive. The architecture is beautiful, the people courteous—most of the time."
Alric smiled faintly. "I'm glad to hear that."
Her eyes glimmered, and she asked, "And why are you here, Crown Prince?"
"To meet Ace Thornevale," Alric replied simply.
The moment the name left his lips, Emilia's expression hardened just slightly. "Then perhaps you can explain to these guards how disgraceful they are being. I've been standing here for far too long, they are not letting me enter as if I were some commoner."
Alric's eyes shifted between her and the guards, a flicker of uncertainty passing over his composed expression. Emilia was a princess of another kingdom, the Thornevale guards were elite warriors fiercely loyal to their liege, and Ace himself… was Ace.
After a short pause, Alric chose the middle ground. He said politely to the guards, "Please inform Lord Ace that I am here and would like to meet with him."
The left guard gave a sharp nod, turned, and knocked once on the heavy door.
From inside came a clear, calm voice. "Enter."
The guard stepped in briefly.
He returned moments later, his tone equally formal. "Lord Ace is waiting for you, Your Highness."
Alric inclined his head in thanks and began to step forward—only for Emilia to immediately refute, "And me? Surely you told him I was here as well."
The guard's gaze didn't waver. "I did, Princess. Lord Ace has declined to meet you. "
For a heartbeat, the corridor was utterly still.
Emilia's face flushed—not entirely from embarrassment, but from the insult. Her fingers clenched against her skirts, and the spark of her earlier temper was back, though now hidden behind a mask of icy politeness.
Alric's brow furrowed faintly, but he said nothing, stepping inside as the guards closed the door behind him.
The princess remained in the hallway, her lips pressed in a faint, dangerous smile that didn't reach her eyes.
Inside Ace's room, the faint aroma of black tea mingled with the cool scent of polished wood and parchment. Sunlight poured in from the tall arched windows, catching the steam curling from the porcelain cups on the low table between them.
Alric Solarian sat with the easy composure of a man raised to carry the empire's future, though there was a slight crease at the edge of his brow. He set his cup down with care.
"I came to speak about the expedition," he began. "I attempted to change the city under the thornevale territory, but… it was finalized by His Majesty himself. The other high nobles supported it as well. I couldn't overturn it."
Ace's gaze stayed steady, the faintest curve at one corner of his lips as he stirred his tea. "I see."
"You don't seem concerned," Alric said, studying him.
"I'm not," Ace replied casually, raising the cup and taking a slow sip. "You needn't worry about Brixton."
Something in his tone—calm, certain, with not a trace of bluster—made Alric pause. He had the distinct sense that Ace was very different from anyone else.
They spoke for a while longer, drifting from the politics of the capital to more neutral topics.
Finally, Alric set his empty cup aside and said, "Shall we head to class together?"
Ace rose smoothly. "Very well."
The two stepped out into the corridor. Immediately, they were met with Emilia Vel'Faera, who straightened at the sight of them. Her golden-green hair shimmered in the morning light, her expression softening into polite nobility.
"Your Highness Alric," she greeted warmly. "If you don't mind… may I accompany you to class?"
Alric glanced at Ace briefly before nodding. "Of course, Princess."
She fell into step beside them, her graceful smile in place. As they walked, Alric asked lightly, "Are you excited about the expedition?"
"Yes," Emilia replied, her voice even. But every so often, her eyes flickered toward Ace—quick, assessing glances as if she wanted to speak to him directly.
Each time, however, Ace's gaze remained forward, his presence unyielding, as though she wasn't even there.
Her lips pressed faintly together, and whatever question she'd been harboring stayed unsaid.
Alric noticed the subtle exchanges—or rather, the lack of them. His own mind began to draw conclusions, the kind that came naturally to someone raised among political marriages and veiled courtship. So… the princess of Lioren has an interest in him.
Midway to the academic wings, Emilia's path diverged toward her own class. She inclined her head with perfect etiquette before turning away, her figure vanishing down the opposite corridor.
Ace and Alric continued on, the crown prince's expression thoughtful while Ace's remained utterly unchanged.