The Everts Kingdom Palace — Night
The royal throne room was deathly silent. The fire from the torches danced unpredictably against the polished marble walls. In the center of the vast chamber, two men stood facing each other.
"So," Fedrel Zevienthe spoke, his voice calm yet carrying an undeniable, absolute authority. "What is it that you wish to report, Rufen Fedora?"
Fedora bowed his head in deep respect. "Reporting, Your Majesty. This year, a total of forty-seven students have been officially admitted to the Heero Academy."
Fedrel let out a soft, weary sigh.
"You are still calling me 'Your Majesty'..." A faint smile touched the King's lips. "We have been comrades for a very long time, Rufen. There is no need for such rigid formality between us."
"I cannot, Sire," Fedora replied firmly, lowering his head even deeper. "You are the King of Everts. I am merely your loyal subordinate."
Fedrel stepped forward, his tone shifting into one of absolute command. "Raise your head. That is an order."
"…Understood."
"Now, continue," Fedrel said, pacing forward. "Our kingdom originally sent seven children. One is my daughter, three are from the noble houses—including your own son—and three are from the commoner selection. Where exactly did the extra number come from?"
Fedora took a deep, steadying breath. "I personally transferred one commoner into our kingdom's remaining noble slot."
Fedrel stopped dead in his tracks.
"Rufen," the King said, his voice dropping into a low, dangerously sharp whisper. "You are well aware that there are nine kingdoms including ours, each allotted exactly five noble slots. Every single one of those candidates must undergo rigorous testing to secure those five positions."
He began to walk slowly around Fedora. "This year, we only managed to field four qualified nobles. Furthermore, the commoner quota was only recently added, and yet you decided to insert three?"
"There was an undeniable reason for it," Fedora stated unflinchingly. "There is a boy... whose mana capacity vastly exceeds five thousand."
Fedrel paused. "Then why not place him under the commoner quota?"
"He arrived late," Fedora explained. "If I allowed him to bypass the initial testing phase and advance straight to the practical exam, the candidates who failed would harbor immense resentment. It would breed danger. Above all else, we must uphold strict discipline."
"…And so, you utilized the vacant noble slot."
Before Fedrel could formulate a response—
CRASH!
The sudden, echoing sound of a shattering flower vase shattered the midnight silence.
"Ah... oops..."
Clara stood frozen, looking at her father with absolute nervousness. "H-Hello, Royal Father."
Both Fedrel and Fedora turned around, completely taken aback. "Clara?"
Fedrel immediately rushed to her side, his protective instincts kicking in. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"
"I-I'm perfectly fine, Father," Clara stammered nervously, her mind screaming, (Damn it... I'm caught!)
"Where exactly are you going in such a hurried rush at this hour?"
"Just... going out for a moment to get some fresh air. I was just staying within the palace grounds, I swear..."
Fedrel stared intently at his daughter for a long, silent moment. "Then where is Dina?"
"Ah... I can take care of myself—"
"PRINCESS, PLEASE WAIT!"
Dina's voice echoed frantically from down the corridor, completely out of breath. "Ah... Your Majesty... um..."
She leaned closer to Clara, whispering frantically, "We're completely busted."
"Dina," Fedrel addressed her, his voice freezing cold. "Explain this."
"Forgive me..." Dina bowed her head, trembling. "Princess Clara... wished to slip out into the city."
Fedrel turned a sharp, stern glare toward his daughter. "For what purpose?"
"Just to look around..." Clara muttered, casting her eyes downward.
"And what if you collapse again?" Fedrel's voice rose, hardening with strict authority. "Your body is still incredibly frail. Your internal power has not yet stabilized!"
Clara remained silent, biting her lower lip.
"Return to your chambers immediately," the King commanded. "Dina, keep a strict eye on her. Under no circumstances is she to leave the palace grounds."
"…By your command, Your Majesty," Dina replied.
"But, Father...!" Clara pouted in deep protest, but she was quickly and firmly dragged away by Dina.
The throne room fell back into its heavy silence. Fedora let out a slow exhale. "Weren't you being a bit too harsh on her?"
"I simply do not wish to see my daughter get hurt," Fedrel replied softly, his regal facade slipping for just a fraction of a second. Shaking off the emotion, he brought the conversation back to the matter at hand. "Tell me, who are the admitted students representing our kingdom?"
"In first place: Kyra Zevienthe."
Fedrel smiled, a wave of profound pride washing over him. "Magnificent."
"Second place: Leon Fedora. Third place: Alisa Barley. Fourth place: Yugo Bortos." Fedora continued. "And from the commoner selection: Reika Argan, Zian Juko, and Rina Vaza."
"Oh?" Fedrel nodded thoughtfully. "Rina can act as a proper companion for Kyra." He paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing. "This boy with the anomalous mana... what did you say his name was?"
"Reika Argan. His measured mana capacity: Seven thousand."
"7,000?!"
"I fully intended to test his capabilities further," Fedora continued, "but Wiz suddenly intervened and—"
"It is quite bad manners to speak about someone behind their back, you know."
A smooth, incredibly relaxed voice echoed out of nowhere.
Wiz was casually leaning against one of the massive marble pillars, a subtle, playful smirk plastered across his face.
"Greetings, Your Majesty," Wiz said lightly, offering a casual, noncommittal bow. "I happen to have a rather elegant suggestion. How about we officially induct the Argan family into my own noble house? If we do that, the bureaucratic issue regarding the slot is completely resolved."
Fedora shot a fierce, piercing glare at him. "It is not as simple as you think, Wiz."
Wiz's smirk only widened into a razor-sharp grin. "Oh? On the contrary, it is exactly that simple... because that boy... is absolutely everything."