The midday bell echoed across the academy grounds, its chime soft but firm, signaling the brief pause between lessons. Students began to pour out from classrooms into the sunlit courtyards, some rushing to the canteen, others lounging under the shade of blooming mana-trees.
Blanche and Vila moved with purpose.
Their steps echoed as they exited the central building and crossed into the western quarter of Asterblume's massive campus.
Compared to the pristine eastern gardens or the serene study halls of the north, the west was... rougher.
Stone tiles here were chipped. The lamp-post sigils flickered inconsistently. Posters layered haphazardly over columns bore symbols, slogans, and names that reeked of rebellion more than pride.
The students?
Louder. Rougher. Jackets half-worn. Uniforms unbuttoned or stylized to the point of being unrecognizable.
One student with spiked hair and crimson sleeves shoved another aside, laughing like he owned the path.
Blanche didn't flinch.
"Expected," she murmured, more to herself.
Vila's eyes narrowed slightly as another student passed by with rings in both eyebrows and a jagged rune tattoo over his neck.
"Are all the students here this... dressed?"
Blanche gave a faint smile.
"You're not wrong to wonder."
She slowed her pace slightly, her gaze sweeping the street.
"Asterblume only has one central branch—it sits at the capital's heart. Which means students come from all across the kingdom and beyond."
"To manage the flood of diversity, the academy divided the outer sectors into quadrants. Each with their own housing, training grounds, culture…"
She gestured subtly at the buildings they passed.
"Eventually, it wasn't just housing. Leaders began to rise. Students gathered around them. Structures formed."
Vila raised an eyebrow.
"Factions."
"Exactly," Blanche replied. "Unofficial, but very real."
"And your dorm?" Vila asked.
"We're in the East. Technically under Seryn's jurisdiction."
Vila let out a quiet "Hm."
Then, after a pause—
"And what kind of leader is Kael Dymont?"
Blanche's expression didn't change, but her answer was cold.
"The kind who lets chaos speak for him."
They walked a little further.
A group of students leaning against a wall watched them pass—one of them whistled mockingly. Another cracked his knuckles with a grin.
Blanche didn't stop.
And neither did Vila.
The further they walked into West territory, the messier it got—figuratively and literally.
Old training dummies half-broken, mana-cracked walls, graffiti that glowed faintly with residual spell energy.
But strangely, the area was… quiet. Too quiet.
Just as Blanche glanced down an alley between two crumbling spar-halls—
"STOP. RIGHT. THERE."
The voice came sharp and loud—surprisingly loud.
Blanche and Vila both paused mid-step.
From the shadow of a half-fallen archway, a figure emerged.
Short. Way too short.
Maybe barely reaching Vila's waist.
A girl—no older than twelve by appearance—stood with hands on hips, an oversized student coat dragging behind her like a cape.
She scowled up at them with a confidence that had absolutely no business being on that tiny frame.
"You're not from around here. State your dorm affiliation—or pay the toll."
Blanche blinked.
Vila tilted her head, expression unchanged.
There was a moment of silence as both of them stared at the supposed threat.
"Is she…" Blanche started.
"...a lost child?" Vila finished flatly.
"I'M NOT LOST!" the girl snapped, stamping one foot. "I'm a second-year student, thank you very much! Senior to both of you!"
Her voice cracked at the end, either from rage or vocal range.
Vila slowly reached into her coat pocket, pulled out a small wrapped candy, and offered it to the tiny warlord.
"Here. Go play in the sand."
The girl's face turned red.
"Did you just—? Are you mocking me!?"
She snatched the candy, but didn't eat it.
"I oughta rearrange your jaw!"
She balled her fists, ready to punch Vila's knee or maybe her shin.
Vila simply blinked down at her, completely unimpressed.
Then turned to Blanche and asked with perfect deadpan:
"Are all human children this irritating?"
Blanche pressed a gloved hand to her mouth, carefully hiding a smile.
"Only the especially gifted ones."
The tiny girl stood firm—tiny fists clenched, glare sharp as a training blade.
"I'm not just any student, you know," she barked, pointing at Vila. "The name's Greta von Eisenberg. Second-year. Combat specialization. My family's from the Central Military Authority."
Blanche's eyes narrowed slightly. The name struck a familiar chord.
"Eisenberg..."
She spoke the name slowly, with a faint undertone of recognition.
"Yes. That does ring a bell."
"So maybe next time, show some respect, newbies."
Greta crossed her arms proudly.
Blanche's eyes flickered with recognition.
"Eisenberg… as in the military Eisenbergs?"
Greta blinked, clearly pleased someone finally got it.
"Obviously. What, you've heard of us?"
Blanche gave a soft, pleasant smile.
"My family's known the Eisenbergs for a long time. Our Houses served together during the Fortis Campaign."
Greta looked mildly impressed—until Blanche added, lightly:
"Though… you probably haven't heard of my side."
"Hah! Maybe. I mean—my family usually deals with higher-ranking nobility. You'd have to be someone really important, like…"
She trailed off.
Blanche exhaled through her nose—calm, elegant.
With one graceful motion, she reached into the inside of her coat and withdrew a small brooch—etched with a radiant, twin-winged crest.
The silver crest of House Equinox.
"Lady Blanche Van Equinox. Head heir."
She held the crest gently between two fingers, almost as if she were offering a flower.
She held it up at eye level—Greta's eye level—and spoke with smooth clarity.
"Blanche. Van Equinox."
"First daughter of High Lord Equinox."
Silence.
Greta's entire body went still.
Her jaw opened slightly. The color drained from her cheeks in real time.
She looked at the brooch.
Then at Blanche.
Then at Vila—who blinked once, unbothered.
Blanche lowered the crest and adjusted her gloves, tone polite but cool.
"You're coming with us."
"Just a short conversation. I'd like to speak privately, as one who's familiar with the Eisenberg line."
Greta opened her mouth—
"I—uh—yes, ma'am. I mean—yes. Right away."
The earlier fire in her voice had vanished. Now she was just trying to remember how to stand at attention without looking like a kicked puppy.
Vila tilted her head toward Blanche as they began walking.
"Fascinating," she said dryly. "You didn't even have to raise your voice."
Blanche smiled faintly.
"When words are chosen correctly… they don't need volume."
Greta led them through a narrow path behind one of the older training halls—a part of the academy that had long been abandoned for "structural upgrades," which never happened.
The cracked stone and overgrown vines made it perfect for privacy.
She stopped in front of a half-broken bench and motioned stiffly.
"This should be fine."
Blanche gave a graceful nod.
"Much appreciated, Miss Greta."
Greta gulped. She called me 'Miss'? What does that mean? Is that formal? Is that condescending? Is this a trap?
Blanche took a moment before speaking again, folding her hands neatly in front of her.
"Before anything else, I just wanted to ask—how's your family?"
Greta blinked.
Hard.
"...Fine."
Blanche nodded kindly.
"I recall your grandfather served during the Rift Border Conflicts, yes? With the 4th Artillery?"
"Y-yes. That's... correct."
"That's impressive. I've read some of the strategy reports from that front. The way the Eisenbergs held the ridge was considered textbook perfect."
Greta's mind was screaming.
Is she testing me? Is this reverse psychology? Am I supposed to compliment her family back?! Wait—DO I HAVE TO STAND?!
"T-thank you, Lady Equinox."
Blanche smiled gently, tilting her head.
"You don't have to be so formal, Greta. We're just talking."
"R-right."
Pause.
"...Do you enjoy life in the West Quarter?"
"I—I guess... I mean, yeah—kind of—uh—"
Blanche laughed softly, not mocking—just amused.
"Relax. I'm not here to audit your squadron."
"I'm not hiding anything!" Greta blurted.
"...I didn't say you were."
"I—I mean, I just—I'm just following the rulebook, you know?! Not like some people here who make me look bad—"
Her voice started shaking. Her hands tightened into little fists. Her whole body tense like she was bracing for impact.
And then—
"I-I'm sorry…"
Her eyes welled up.
A hiccup.
A sniffle.
She turned her face away, biting her lip.
"I didn't mean to—I wasn't—I just…"
Blanche blinked, genuinely startled.
"Greta, I—"
"I'M SORRY FOR EXISTING."
Silence.
A very small sob.
Even the breeze held its breath.
Vila, standing nearby with arms crossed, finally said flatly:
"Congratulations. You made the gremlin cry."
Blanche gave her a sharp look.
"That was not my intent."
Vila raised a brow.
"But very effective."
Greta let out a small hic.
She wiped her face with her sleeve, still not meeting their eyes.
"C-can we just skip to the questions now…"
Silence hung in the air.
Greta sniffled once, still avoiding both their gazes. Her hands were balled tightly in her lap, and the confident swagger she carried earlier had fully dissolved.
Blanche quietly reached into her coat and pulled out a neatly folded handkerchief—pure white with gold embroidery along the edge.
She offered it gently.
"Here. I apologize if I frightened you. That wasn't my intention."
Greta hesitated before accepting it. Her hand trembled slightly.
"I just wanted to ease the mood," Blanche continued softly. "That's all."
"...Okay," Greta mumbled, barely audible, her voice thick from holding back more tears.
She dabbed her eyes, taking a shaky breath.
Vila, as usual, said nothing—but her silver gaze flicked sideways for a moment, as if watching for signs of recovery.
After a few more seconds of silence, Greta finally sat up straighter—still subdued, but more composed.
Blanche adjusted her posture, keeping her tone gentle but steady.
"Greta... may I ask something important?"
Greta nodded quietly.
"Do you know anything about the leader here? About Kael Dymont?"
That name made her flinch—just a little.
"Everyone here knows about Kael," she said. "Even if you've never talked to him... you know the name."
Blanche's eyes sharpened slightly.
"Do you know where he operates from?"
Greta shook her head.
"No. I—I try to stay out of it. Most of us do. There are students who follow him... but not all of us want trouble."
Her grip on the handkerchief tightened.
"I just... keep my head down. Do my duty. That's it."
Blanche gave a slight nod.
"That's more than enough. Thank you."
Greta looked down, eyes still red, but calmer now.
Blanche leaned slightly against the old bench, arms crossed, eyes thoughtful as she glanced sideways at Vila.
"We need someone who actually knows Kael's movements. Someone closer to the inside."
Vila looked around the empty space.
"You mean someone stupid enough to follow him?"
Blanche let out a soft chuckle.
"Or someone observant enough to watch from the shadows."
Greta, still dabbing the edge of her eye with Blanche's handkerchief, cleared her throat.
"Um... I might know someone who can help."
Both of them turned to her.
"She's... kind of weird," Greta added quickly. "But she's been here longer, and she "Because it's not your business."
Blanche raised an eyebrow.
"Name?"
"Rea. Rea Caelumotris."
Blanche blinked.
Then sighed.
"Ah. Her."
Vila looked between them.
"You know this Rea?"
"Unfortunately," Blanche muttered, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Second-year. Talks like she's narrating a fever dream. Constantly under surveillance but somehow always missing from attendance."
"So she's... eccentric?"
"That's one word for it."
"And she's from a noble family?" Vila asked, surprised.
"Yes," Blanche said flatly. "The younger sister of Silas Caelumotris."
A beat of silence.
"That explains a lot," Vila muttered.
Greta shifted awkwardly, clearly unsure if she was supposed to keep standing there or vanish into thin air.
Blanche gave her a small nod, her voice soft but certain.
"You've helped enough. Thank you for your time, Greta. You may go."
Greta perked up slightly, then stood straighter like a soldier dismissed.
"Y-yes, Lady Equinox. Good luck with... whatever this is."
She gave a short, awkward bow, then hurried off—half speed-walking, half power-marching down the cracked path.
Silence lingered for a few seconds before Vila spoke.
"You don't like this Rea girl, do you?"
Blanche sighed, eyes narrowing slightly as she stared into the distance.
"It's not that I dislike her... I just don't understand her."
"She's unpredictable. Talks too much. Thinks too fast. Moves like she's dancing to music no one else hears."
Vila tilted her head.
"Sounds like someone who'd get along with Kael."
"Exactly," Blanche muttered, folding her arms. "Which is why I hate that she's probably our best lead."
She paused for a long breath.
"I don't trust her. But I know she knows something. Rea never misses the chance to collect gossip—especially if it's dangerous."
"So what now?" Vila asked simply.
Blanche closed her eyes for a second, exhaling through her nose.
"Now? I do something I rarely do."
She opened her eyes again, gaze sharp but resigned.
"Ask her for help."