Chapter 55: Schemes
For the next week, they pass through countless towns and cities, most of whose names William barely remembers. The only thing he consistently notices is that the inns they stay at become better with every passing night.
During the journey, William gets to know the other students traveling with them. There are fourteen in total, including him—eight boys and six girls. Almost all of them come from ordinary households. Some worked on their family farms, while others helped in small shops or local businesses.
Like Dan and Bert, none of them knew much about magic before being recruited, and most are still struggling to believe they can actually learn it. Edward, meanwhile, has become the group's primary source of information, happily sharing whatever little he knows about the academy.
This morning, William's breakfast once again manages to amaze him. In front of him sits the softest bread he has ever seen, lighter than anything he has eaten before. Beside it rests a bowl of thick, hearty stew and a generous piece of grilled meat.
Back home, his family had rarely eaten grilled meat—it was simply too expensive. Whenever they managed to secure any, it was usually thrown into a pot with potatoes and vegetables to stretch the meal for as long as possible.
William still remembers the first time he tasted grilled meat a week ago. The rich, savory flavor combined with thick stew was nothing like the watery perpetual stews served at the cheap roadside taverns he was used to.
His mouth waters as he stares at the portion before him. Its surface is perfectly browned, glistening with grease, with dark grill marks running across the cut. The scent alone is enough to make his stomach rumble.
Pulling himself out of his thoughts, William finally digs in. By the time he finishes, he wipes his lips and leans back in full satisfaction.
Glancing around the room, he takes in his surroundings. It is nothing like the cramped, dingy quarters of cheaper inns. Instead of dark walls and the damp smell of mold, warm sunlight pours through wide windows, carrying in a faint floral scent from outside.
William stands up and sits on the edge of the bed. The mattress sinks beneath his weight.
He stares at it for a moment. He still hasn't gotten used to sleeping like this. Back home, he slept on a simple straw mattress. This feels almost like lying on a cloud, yet the sheer soft comfort somehow makes falling asleep harder, not easier.
After speaking with the other students, William discovers that most of them share the same feeling about the lavish food and accommodations.
Everyone except Edward.
Apparently, even this room is a step below what Edward is accustomed to at home—and according to him, these are only the cheapest rooms the inn has to offer. William can't even begin to imagine what the most expensive room looks like.
A sudden knock on William's door pulls him from his thoughts.
“William!”
Dan's voice comes from the other side.
“One of the escorts told me to tell everyone to head to the stables. We're getting ready to leave.”
William calmly picks up his bag and opens the door. Dan stands outside, with most of the other students already gathered in the hallway. William gestures toward the remaining rooms, and Dan immediately runs off to knock on the rest of the doors.
Meanwhile, on the highest floor of the inn, two men sit facing each other in the most expensive suite the establishment has to offer.
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Gold-inlaid paintings decorate the walls, fine statues stand in the corners, and heavy silk curtains frame the wide windows. Between the two men sits a table laden with elaborate dishes and bottles of rare wine.
Yet none of it has been touched.
The flickering candlelight casts long shadows across their faces, making the heavy tension in the room even more apparent.
One of the men is the overseer of the entire recruitment drive. He has the unmistakable appearance of a seasoned scholar, sitting with impeccable, rigid posture. An open book rests in one hand while the other casually holds a silver goblet of wine. His expression remains utterly calm and composed despite the thick atmosphere.
Across from him sits his complete opposite—a broad, well-built man with the distinct bearing of a veteran soldier. A prominent scar cuts across his face, and his expression is filled with barely restrained irritation.
The two men sit in silence, surrounded by far more luxury than either seems interested in enjoying.
“What is the meaning of this, Maximus?” the scarred man asks, his voice seething with anger.
“What do you mean by that question, Reynard?” Maximus replies, almost teasingly.
The cup in Reynard's hand cracks under his grip. “You know exactly what I mean. The sudden change of route. Pretending to be merchants. And don't you dare think I haven't heard the rumors you spread at the previous inn about us transporting cargo worth more than a hundred gold coins.”
“Well, it's not as though I was trying to hide it from you,” Maximus replies smoothly.
Before he can continue, Reynard cuts him off. “And if you're going to tell me you're doing this for the kids, then you must think I'm the biggest fool in the Empire.” His eyes narrow. “No one would believe that a sly fox like you would go this far for a bunch of children. So tell me the real reason.”
Maximus slowly closes his book and places it on the table. For a moment, neither man speaks. They simply stare at each other, neither willing to back down.
Finally, Maximus lets out a soft sigh.
“Three years ago, a High Knight serving the Royal Family was discovered smuggling restricted goods into the capital. Unfortunately, he possessed a troublesome skill and managed to escape before he could be arrested.”
Reynard's expression darkens.
“Since then, he's been working as a bandit, targeting wealthy merchants,” Maximus continues. “The Royal Family has sent several people after him, but he always manages to escape. He sacrifices his own men to buy himself time and uses his skill whenever he's cornered.”
Maximus picks up his silver cup. “And according to my information, he's operating along the route we're taking.” He takes a sip. “So I thought, why not deal with him while I'm already here?”
A flash of anger crosses Reynard's face. “You should handle your personal affairs in your own time. This is official academy business.”
Maximus stays silent as Reynard leans forward.
“As the person responsible for the students' security, every knight, mage, and soldier accompanying us falls under my authority,” Reynard says coldly. “You will not take any of them for your little hunt. Do you understand?” He pauses, his eyes dropping to ice. “And if something unforeseeable happens... I'll simply watch you die.”
He delivers the final words slowly, making sure there is no mistaking his meaning.
Maximus's smile only widens. “Oh, you had to add that last part. It almost sounded like you were worried about me.” He leans back in his chair. “Looks like you've gone soft.”
The air in the room instantly shifts. An oppressive, suffocating presence fills the space—a sheer pressure that would make an ordinary person collapse to their knees .
Maximus's smile doesn't falter. Even as the glass windows starts cracking along with the creaking sound coming from the floor before it suddenly vanishes.
Reynard slowly rises from his chair and walks toward the door without another word. The heavy wooden door shuts firmly behind him.
Maximus picks up his wine, takes a slow sip, and lets out a quiet chuckle.
“He really has gone soft,” Maximus mutters, glancing toward the closed door. “The old Reynard would've drawn his sword halfway through that conversation.”
His smile fades slightly as he takes another sip.
“But that killing intent... he wouldn't hesitate to kill me if he truly had to.” A faint, amused smile creeps back onto his face. “Still worthy of your name, Reynard the Mad Sword.”