Friends

Leor stood in the decently crowded hallway which smelled of different strong perfumes, giving the whole place a pleasant environment, even with the crowd. If Nobles were replaced with commoners at this moment, it would definitely make Leor puke from the stench, and the unhygienic way they act.

'I guess this is the actual difference between wealthy and poor.' Leor thought nodding and smiling at a few faces he recognised. 

He scanned the crowd for Vane and Alya. 

'The class had been... interesting, to say the least. Johan had looked oddly giddy the entire time—maybe he was into this sort of thing like me.'

Finally, they arrived.

Alya carried herself with a presence that made her seem older—or maybe just impossible to ignore for Leor. At nineteen, like Leor and Vane, her piercing blue eyes were sharp, clear, holding a weight that made people hesitate before meeting her gaze, which she gained after facing countless gossips and eyes filled with disgust for her "unladylike" like behavior, from when she was just four years old. It was mostly because of nobles' jealousy for her wealth.

Pale white skin, dusted with faint freckles, added a subtle charm. Light-blue hair, streaked with dark-blue, cascaded down her back in a way that gave her a disheveled elegance. 

Stray strands framed her face and forehead, making it seem like she didn't care—yet everything about her was effortlessly striking.

She moved with natural grace. A tailored black pencil skirt hugged her form—neither ostentatious nor overly modest. It skimmed her curves with understated allure, hinting at the fullness of her hips, the taper of her waist. A fitted black peplum jacket completed the look, structured and refined. Over her shoulders, a heavy midnight-black overcoat draped elegantly, shielding her from the cold. 

This kind of dressing sense was seen as improper in noble circles, but Alya stopped caring for that long ago, resulting in her gaining a reputation similar to that of Princess Flora—Tomboish, which only made her popular, but not in a healthy way. Just more disgusting nobles obsessed with her body, trying to pressure her father to give her hand to them in one way or another.

Beside her, Vane stood out in a completely different way—sharp, calculated. His lean, strong frame carried an air of precision. Dark black eyes measured everything in sight. A jawline so defined it made his already striking features even more captivating. His unruly white hair fell over his forehead in an untamed yet oddly formal way, complementing the meticulousness of his expression.

His attire spoke of sophistication—a crisp white shirt, perfectly tailored black pants, a luxurious waistcoat streaked subtly with gray, enhancing his white hair. The fabric glimmered faintly under the light, hinting at its fine craftsmanship. A locket hung around his neck, its hues a mesmerizing emerald–green. A stark contrast to his otherwise plain, subtle yet luxurious look. It looked more Personal.

They were bickering as they walked out, voices loud, drawing glances from students and teachers alike. Heads turned, attention latching onto them whether they wanted it or not.

Then Vane looked up. Saw Leor, and shouted something which made Leor tremble all over.

"It's messed up, Leor! I think we'll need to become terrorists!"

Silence.

The entire hallway froze.

Every student and teacher stared, mouths agape, probably contemplating whether to report them to the authorities.

Leor's face twitched. 'Amazing. Just how bad can a day get?'

Without a second thought, he bolted. Boots pounded against stone pathway as he sprinted toward Lauriston Garden, their usual sitting spot.

Johan ran alongside him, no questions asked.

Behind them, Alya and Vane took off in pursuit. As if chasing a burglar.

Alya, despite the long pencil skirt, held up the fabric expertly, keeping her stride steady. 

Vane, on the other hand, ran like a madman—leaning forward, back straight, his arms moving rhythmically with every step—abusing his muscular physique to the limits.

They made a few turns, from the corridor to the cafeteria. Everyone stopped whatever they were doing, and stared at them, their gazes as if they were used to this.

Haa! 

A rush of cool breeze hit as they burst into the garden. With all the sweat covering them due to their heavy clothing, this felt like the heaven itself. 

Tall trees swayed, the scent of jasmine thick in the air. Leor finally slowed, panting. Johan stopped beside him. Moments later, Vane and then Alya caught up, gasping for breath.

Ha! Ha! Ha!

Alya whipping the sweat from her forehead, and fixing her peplum jacket, was breathing heavily. She yelled in a high-pitched voice throughout the deep breaths, "Why… why did you run?"

She even with her above average physique, was barely able to keep up with us.

Leor shot Vane a glare, still breathless. "Today was wild enough. I don't think I wanna become a terrorist."

Vane flinched.

Leor introduced Johan as Johan Von Adlerhof, keeping the situation vague. Whatever Johan was, it could still wait.

Vane stared at Johan with wide eyes, as if contemplating something big, while Alya just nodded with a polite smile.

 But for Leor, Vane and Alya's situation looked more urgent.

"So, what's this about becoming a terrorist?" Leor was half-joking. Mostly serious. "Are you finally giving up on being a Viscount and running away to the outskirts?"

Vane waved a hand. "No, no, we wouldn't need to become terrorists for that! It's about King Edward's—"

"He's trying to force my father to marry me to his son—the prince!" Alya cut in. Her voice was heavy. The exhaustion from running paled in comparison to the weight of her words.

Leor clenched his fists. His jaw tightened. 'This would be the first time I've ever heard her sound so hopeless in these three years…'

He cursed the prince and king under his breath repeatedly, then—

Taking a slow breath to steady himself, he spoke sharply. "How could he even dare to force Andrei Dmitrievich Ruriks? Shouldn't he be begging for his support? He just took the throne. The audacity… even for a king, he can't just ignore the Great Royal Families."

Johan stiffened, lost in the political weight of it all.

'These great royal families… they would definitely know more than a commoner— academy student…' Johan thought, his face stoic on the surface.

Vane let out a bitter laugh. "That's exactly what I was thinking, but she wouldn't answer me earlier. That's why we were fighting."

He chose to ignore Johan for now, as it seemed Leor trusted him enough to be listening to their conversation, which was definitely treason in most cases.

Vane hesitated. "And… I tried talking to my father about it. But he just said, 'This isn't our family's problem. It's just a marriage. The Ruriks are gaining a lot from this. Using her as a bridge between the Great Royal Families and the King is a good decision. If the princess were still alive, I would've married you to her instead…' I argued, but he kept brushing it off."

Leor's frown deepened.

"But… Alya, your father wouldn't agree to this, right?" There was hope in his voice. Small. But there. The whole Empire knew how much Andrei Dmitrievich Ruriks doted on his only daughter.

Alya shook her head. Leor felt his chest tighten.

"No. I thought so too, he had refused so many political and financial benefits for my sake. But Vane's sources say King Edward is giving him a position as a military General, along with control over five hundred thousand soldiers. Father will probably hire a puppet General or brother to handle the work while using the army as his own personal force. He always wanted an army, but no matter how much money he had, nobles aren't allowed to raise their own armies of that scale."

Leor's stomach sank. His eyes widened. 

There was nothing he could do to change anything at that scale. Second, his thought was 'How much stupid a king could get.' 

Only military generals get armies of that size, basically giving the rank of a general and a whole legion of the Lavenham Empire to a business man. 

"Then… he'll most likely treat this as a political marriage." Vane's voice was quieter now. Thoughtful. Not revealing in any way how he got his hands on such classified information. 

"Most noblewomen are destined for it anyway." He added awkwardly, not sure how to comfort Alya.

Leor was shaking. His breath unsteady. His body unbearably heavy. A sharp, unfamiliar pain stabbed through his chest. Like a part of him was dying.

'This is officially the worst day of my life…'