Steam rose from Julient's cup, dancing in the air in the morning light as he watched the bright blue sky outside. Then, a figure walked up to his table, placing down a plate before him, bearing a single slice of chocolate cake.

"Your order, Sir. Please, enjoy," the waiter said.

"Why, thank you."

The waiter withdrew as silently as he had appeared. Julient studied the dessert. Despite its rather small portion size, it did look appetizing. But how would it compare to the ones made by the royal chefs, however?

Only one way to find out.

Picking up the silver fork, he began cutting through the cake with perfect ease. Just enough softness like gliding a knife through butter, but enough firmness to not make it feel like cutting through foam.

He took a slow bite. The flavor unraveled gradually. It was sweet, soft, and it had a nice aftertaste. Not bad at all, it was clear why the maids in the palace said this place had the best cake in the capital. Still, it lacked the creaminess of the chocolate layer that would've made this a perfect cake. A wasted potential.

But all in all, this place…

The cushioned seat was comfortable, the air was coated with the comforting aroma of coffee, and the cake was simply remarkable. He wouldn't mind conducting his studies or even meetings here.

And speaking of which…

As if on cue, the entrance bell chimed.

A hooded figure stepped inside, pausing only a moment before striding directly to his table. They settled into the chair opposite with a silent, weary heave. A slow, deliberate hand drew back the hood, revealing none other than Clara.

"Glad to see you made it, Clara," Julient said with a smile, aiming for another bite of the cake.

"The honor is mine, Your Highness," she responded, dipping her head in a slight bow.

As she settled into her seat, Julient straightened slightly as he leaned forward slightly.

"So, what would you like to order?"

"N-No, there's no need." She fluttered both of her hands and her head. "I already ate before coming here."

"Really? That's a shame."

Julient took a quiet sip of his coffee. It was bitter, but nothing he couldn't handle. In fact, it was rather calming.

"Your Highness, if I may be so bold," Clara began. "May I ask why you summoned me here? And why all the secrecy?" She gestured to her own hood, then her eyes glazed over his rather… simple, unassuming clothing.

"Simple, really," Julient replied, setting his cup down. "I'm a prince. And people have taken to calling you 'the Saint.' A public meeting between us would draw a crowd, and I'd prefer to have a conversation, not a show."

"I see…"

"As for why you are here… I've been meaning to speak with you for some time. But you are a remarkably difficult person to pin down. You never seem to be in your office."

Clara's shoulders stiffened as she chuckled. "I know, it's been a bit hard. My schedule's been pretty full since the election... and it's gotten even crazier since you published everyone's scores on the square. The board panicked, just like you thought they would."

A faint smile touched his lips. "Good to know."

"Now, let's get to the point. There's something I've been meaning to ask. How did you do it? Becoming the Student Council President, I mean? You won by a majority of votes, despite being a commoner. I haven't heard such a thing in Royal Knights before."

"W-Well… To be honest, Your Highness, I was rather surprised myself."

"But surely you had a strategy," he pressed gently, his eyes keenly fixed on her. "What promises did you make? How does a commoner convince a majority of nobles to place their trust in her? You must understand my curiosity."

"Oh, the election feels like a lifetime ago now," she said, waving a hand vaguely. "I just did my best and spoke honestly about the changes we needed." She shifted in her seat, clearing her throat lightly. "And speaking of changes… the changes you made to the entrance exam really made a huge difference, don't they?"

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

It was clear what Clara was referring to. It was the fact that the upper tier of the rankings was mostly dominated by the Standardized Track Examinees.

"They have, haven't they?" he said, taking another bite of his cake. After chewing and swallowing, he continued. "To be honest, I didn't need to tamper with the exams that much. All I truly needed were the full test results."

Clara blinked. "What do you mean, Your Highness? Wasn't tricking the board your main goal?"

"Oh, that much was true," he responded with a smile. "But the only reason I made the test seem unfair for the standardized track was to make myself look like 'one of them'. I doubled their written exam questions, made them have a minimum practical points requirement for the practical exam, and even had them start at the eastern side of the forest."

He held back a chuckle as he took a quick sip of his coffee. "Through some clever tricks and wordplay here and there, both tracks ended up being more or less the same in terms of difficulty. I hoped the board wouldn't notice that, and thankfully, it worked, and I actually held some form of observant privilege over the exam, which was all I needed."

"I see… If both sides are fair…" Clara turned to the scenery beyond the window outside, as if she could see the boards in the Grand Square from where she sat. "It all comes down to the examinees themselves, then?"

"Exactly," Julient said with a bright smile, raising his cup. He relaxed as he leaned back, taking another careful sip. "Give two people the same challenge, and the one with more to lose will always shine brighter with their potential."

He paused for a moment before continuing. "That's why all I really needed were the test scores. Before this, the board kept them tucked away in their own personal archives."

"But… couldn't you just demand those scores using your title, Your Highness?" Clara added. "Why go through all this trouble?"

Julient shook his head. "The Royal Family might hold some influence over the Royal Academies. But most of the academy's powers sit with their boards as a form of delegation, giving power to those who know what they're doing, basically."

"I see…"

Julient took another bite of the cake. It was as sweet as it had first arrived. "Now, I'm sure the board's hands are tied. Their public image is always that of fairness, but now that the scores are out for everyone to see, they can't just reject those they don't like, especially those who did better than most of the Gilded Track."

"I can confirm that the board is discussing that matter…" Clara gave a slow nod. Then, after a brief pause, she added quietly, her fingers tightening around the edge of the table. "Even so... She… Lady Carine still came out on top, didn't she? First place overall. And a Gilded Track student, no less."

Julient raised a brow. "Ah, yes. Carine." He leaned back, smiling. "She really outdid herself, didn't she? She promised she'd do well, but I didn't think she meant she would crush the competition." He took a slow sip of his coffee.

I guess the Sareid blood really runs in her veins.

It still stung him how she chose to attend the Royal Knights instead of Royal Governance. Someone like her had the potential to shine so brightly in Royal Governance. Still, perhaps it was better this way.

"I suppose she did," Clara murmured.

Julient caught something in Clara's voice. It almost sounded like she lamented about Carine's victory. Could it be admiration, or maybe, envy? Hard to tell, but there was something there. Although he was curious, he felt this wasn't the time to unravel such a personal thing.

"Hmm," Julient pondered, murmuring to himself. "I guess I'll have to fulfill my part of the deal next."

Silence enveloped the empty café, filled only with the quiet hum of the wind outside. He let it linger for a while. He then straightened and faced Clara once more.

"Oh, right, how goes the preparation for the ball?"

Clara stiffened, surprised. "Well, we still aren't sure how many examinees would end up being accepted, so we're still in the planning phase."

"I can assure you, it's going to be a lot more than last year."

"Yeah, I figured…" she let out a dry laugh. Then, her eyes locked onto the sky above, and her faint smile lingered. "The ball… I wonder if he'll be there…"

He?

Julient didn't dare to ask that out loud. He set down his form, letting the silence breathe. He studied her expression as discreetly as he could.

The way she looked at the clouds above was distant. Perhaps it was longing? Pondering?

As he wondered who among the examinees could elicit such a look from her, a name came to his mind. Someone who deserved as much of his attention as Carine herself.

Feyt.

The one who fought beside her.

It didn't take too long to piece things together. He felt guilty thinking that this could be interesting to watch, but in any case… this wasn't his problem to step in. Still, he wanted to make sure. So, he picked up his cup and took another sip.

"I'm sure he'll be there. Even without the public scores, the academy couldn't possibly reject someone at sixth place."

"That's true…" she mumbled. Then, her eyes widened as she turned to him quickly. "W-Wait, who are you talking about?"

Taking another sip of the nearly empty coffee, Julient said nothing. There was no need to. Her reaction had already told him everything.

Still. Feyt, was it?

Julient remembered the scene, the vision of Carine and Feyt, fighting an instructor… and winning. He had arrived at the venue late, so he could only catch a glimpse of the combat, but judging by the way the crowd's noise had fallen into silence, something about that fight had changed the atmosphere entirely.

Besides, you know, the fact that an instructor was raising her arm against the heiress of a ducal.

Perhaps I should ask Carine more about him when I get the chance.

Or better yet… meet him myself.

The ball. The one meant to celebrate the acceptance of new students. He would no doubt be there, and if the rumors were true, he might be Carine's partner for the ball. There was no better place to meet them than there.

"The ball should be interesting this year," he muttered, almost to no one at all.

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