​Morning at Seruni School dawned with a dull gray sky—a color that had become a natural part of Iron Hearth’s breath. There was no blinding sun, only a faint shimmer of light reflecting off the lingering factory steam. However, at the school gates, the atmosphere felt different.

​Tap... tap... tap...

​Steady footsteps struck the asphalt. A fifteen-year-old youth stepped inside, his jaw slightly upturned. His shoulders were broad, the result of years of constant physical training. He wasn’t wearing an official uniform, but rather a practical suit that fit his frame perfectly, allowing him to move as fast as lightning if necessary. At his waist, a wooden sword swayed gently. Clack... clack... the sound of the wood hitting his thigh echoed with every step.

​Raphael Sudrath.

​Several students who were sweeping the yard suddenly froze. Others, who had just stepped off the steam train, turned with wide eyes. "Eh, is that... Prince Raphael? Seriously, is he actually studying here?" a student whispered while nudging a friend.

​Elara was already waiting on the porch of the main building. She sat calmly in her wheelchair, a crystal tablet glowing softly in her lap. A small smile played on her lips as Raphael approached.

​"Welcome, Raphael," Elara greeted him softly. "We’ve been waiting for you since the first bell."

​Raphael bowed respectfully—not just a formality to the headmistress, but a sincere show of respect to his sister-in-law. "Thank you, Sister Elara. I... hmm, I am ready to learn."

​"Good. You will be in the Advanced Studies class, specializing in Military & Strategy. But, Raphael..." Elara looked at him with a mischievous glint. "You still have to attend the general classes. Just like every other student."

​Raphael shrugged, his hand unconsciously adjusting his wooden sword. "I’m here to learn, Sister. Not to flaunt my title."

​Elara chuckled softly. "I’m glad to hear that. Now, go inside. Your first teacher today is someone you know very well."

​Raphael walked through the long corridor. The atmosphere went silent every time he passed. Some students stepped aside, giving way as if he carried the aura of a battlefield with him. Creak... Raphael pushed open the heavy classroom door.

​At the front, Caelus was standing with his back to the class, writing strategy points on the blackboard. The rhythmic scratching of his chalk filled the room. As the door opened, Caelus turned around. Their eyes met.

​A moment of silence followed.

​"Oh, you actually came?" Raphael murmured, raising an eyebrow.

​Caelus gave a slight smirk, folding his arms across his chest. "So did you."

​Suddenly, Raveena appeared from behind the door, clutching a stack of papers. "I told you, Caelus. My little brother was going to be your new student."

​"I honestly thought you were joking," Caelus said as he put down his chalk.

​"I never joke about Raphael. He’s far too much of a coward when it comes to Mother," Raveena teased, giving a wink.

​Raphael rolled his eyes, his face beginning to redden slightly. "Sister Raveena, can you please not discuss that in front of—"

​"See? He’s already starting," Raveena tapped Caelus’s shoulder firmly. Pletak! "During the lesson, you’ll see for yourself just how ’sweet’ my brother can be."

​Raveena strolled away with a small laugh, leaving Raphael standing frozen at the doorway.

​"Sit," Caelus commanded, pointing to an empty desk in the middle row. "You’re two minutes late."

​"But I was—"

​"Two minutes is still late. In my class, time is life." Caelus turned back to the blackboard. "Save your excuses for later."

​Raphael grunted softly, but he walked to the designated seat anyway. Beside him, a girl in tattered clothes named Elodie stared at him without blinking. Raphael simply gave a brief nod before sitting down.

​Raphael was just about to sit when Caelus’s voice stopped him. "Wait."

​Raphael turned. "What now?"

​"You’re a new student. In my class, new students introduce themselves at the front." Caelus folded his arms, a slight smile on his face. "Consider this your first lesson in etiquette: how to introduce oneself properly."

​Raphael stared at Caelus in disbelief. "Are you serious? Everyone here already knows who I am."

​"They know the name, yes. But do they know who you truly are?" Caelus shook his head. "Not necessarily. Step forward."

​Raphael took a long breath. He walked to the front of the class and turned to face the 47 pairs of eyes staring at him—some curious, some admiring, some skeptical. He remembered that back at the Sol-Regis Academy, he would have been offended by such a request. But now... now he was just tired.

​"I am Raphael Sudrath. I’ve entered Advanced Studies, specializing in Military & Strategy. I already know how to fight." He paused for a moment, then added in a flat tone: "I’ve even defeated someone who claims to be a teacher in a duel."

​The classroom instantly erupted into a commotion.

​Caelus remained standing with folded arms, his expression unchanged. But Raphael could see a small vein in his jaw tighten—and it was incredibly satisfying.

​"But..." Raphael continued, his voice calmer now, "I haven’t graduated from an academy before. So I am here. To learn."

​He turned toward Caelus, meeting his gaze directly. "To learn... even from the person I once defeated."

​A brief silence followed. The students were still confused, whispering among themselves about which teacher Raphael meant. Some looked at Caelus, but no one dared to ask directly.

​Caelus gave a slow nod. "Good. An... interesting introduction. You may sit."

​Raphael returned to his seat. Beside him, Elodie gave a small smile—not mocking, just... friendly.

​The lesson began.

​"My name is Caelus," his voice was calm yet echoed in every corner of the room. "I teach Etiquette and Ethics. You might be thinking: ’Hah, why bother learning manners? We’re Northreach folk, not spoiled Sol-Regis nobles.’ We don’t have time for stale bowing, right?"

​Several students, including Junior Varn, smirked in agreement.

​"But," Caelus walked slowly to the center of the room, "etiquette isn’t about expensive clothes or how to hold a cup. Etiquette is about reading the situation. Knowing when to speak, and knowing when to shut your mouth. It’s how people respect you for the way you carry yourself, not because they fear your sword."

​He stopped right in front of Junior Varn’s desk. "For example: what do you do if a noble insults you in public?"

​Junior Varn immediately raised his hand. "I challenge them to a duel!"

​"And you’ll end up as a corpse."

​Junior flinched. Some students suppressed their laughter, while Caelus stared at him piercingly. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

​"I am not joking," Caelus continued. "I have seen nobles far greater than you die in a gutter because they thought their prestigious name could protect them from their own stupidity. A duel is not a solution; it’s just a shortcut for those who cannot think."

​Raphael listened intently. He remembered his past at the Sol-Regis Academy—when he almost got beaten to a pulp because of his uncontrollable rage. Caelus was there at that time, as the enemy who brought him down. Now, Caelus stood before him as a teacher.

​Caelus glanced at Raphael briefly, giving a nearly invisible nod. Raphael replied with a long, heavy breath.

​The break bell rang. Clang... Clang...

​The school canteen suddenly became noisy with the clinking of plates and the chatter of students. Raphael sat with his food tray, trying not to draw attention. However, a group of students had already surrounded his table.

​"So... are you an actual prince?"

​"Haven’t you already been in a war? Why do you still want to go to school?"

​"You’re General Riven’s brother, right? Just how strong are you?"

​Raphael put down his spoon slowly. Ting. He looked at them calmly. "Yes, I’m Raphael. Yes, I’m a prince. And no, I’m not as strong as Brother Riven—at least not yet." He took a short breath. "I’m here because of my own will; learning strategy and logic is important. Muscles alone won’t make you win on a real battlefield."

​The students fell silent, looking impressed. "Whoa, that’s cool..." one of them whispered.

​Raphael was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when a shrill voice cut through the crowd.

​"YOU SAID WHAT, RAPHAEL?!"

​Raveena stood at the canteen entrance with both hands on her hips. Her face wore an expression between wanting to laugh and wanting to pull his ears.

​"Learning strategy? Your own will?" Raveena walked closer while the students moved aside to give her room. "Shall I tell them how Mother pulled your ears this morning until you begged her not to send you here?"

​Raphael’s face suddenly went pale. "Sister... Sister Raveena, that’s enough..."

​"You were crying at the gate earlier, weren’t you? ’Mercy, Mother! It hurts! I’m already good with a sword, why go to school!’" Raveena mimicked Raphael’s voice with a mock sobbing tone.

​The canteen went dead silent for two seconds before a roar of laughter erupted simultaneously.

​Raphael buried his face in his palms. "Sister Raveena... I’m begging you, shut up..."

​"Don’t ’beg’ me. You’re the one who started acting all cool." Raveena smacked her brother’s head firmly. Pletak! "It’s fine to be forced into school, Raphael. I was forced too. But don’t go rewriting history."

​Raphael looked up with a bright red face. But strangely, as he looked around, the students’ laughter didn’t feel like mockery. It was a warm laughter, the kind that suddenly dissolved the distance between "Prince" and "Student."

​After the laughter subsided, Elodie approached. Her eyes were sparkling. "You’re... really Sister Raveena’s brother?"

​Raphael nodded in resignation. "Yes... unfortunately."

​"Sister Raveena is amazing!" Elodie sat on the bench across from Raphael without hesitation. "She teaches magic as if it were mathematics. She told me my plants grow well because I flow mana naturally—like water flowing through cracks in the earth. She’s a genius!"

​Raphael blinked, slightly surprised. "You want to be like her?"

​"Yes! By the way, can you do magic too?"

​"Me? No. I’m more into... the physical side. Running, lifting weights, sword training."

​"Physical? Is it hard?"

​"Depends. To me, it’s normal, but for Junior Varn..." Raphael glanced at Junior, who was sitting in the corner sulking. "...it seems to be hellish torture."

​Elodie chuckled. "But still, Sister Raveena is cooler."

​Raphael gave a sincere smile. "Yeah. She really is."

​"But you’re cool too," Elodie said suddenly. "You’re a prince, but you’re willing to sit here. And you didn’t get angry when Sister Raveena embarrassed you."

​Raphael looked at the girl. Elodie didn’t care about his title. She only saw Raphael as the brother of the teacher she admired.

​"Thank you," Raphael murmured, and he felt it—a strange warmth in his chest.

​In the corner table, Junior Varn watched everything with a sour face. A prince who was the brother of General Riven, who had tasted war, was sitting there laughing with a poor student and didn’t even retaliate when humiliated.

​Perhaps, Junior thought as he squeezed his spoon, there are some things that truly cannot be learned through the prestige of a big name alone.