"Are you alright, Miss Feuerlon?" It was Mich.e.l.le, the girl who opened the secret door from before. Faustina held Leviticus' hand, who helped her stand up.

"Woah, those wounds . . ." Mich.e.l.le went towards Faustina with an expression mirroring sheer worry. Her large gla.s.ses complimented her short hair and round, tame eyes. "Are you alright? Your nerves are practically pulsating!"

Unlike before, the wounds in Faustina's arms weren't that large any longer; they had shrunken, yet noticeable still. Up close, they can be seen throbbing—and upon closer inspection, one can notice that the pulsating nerves actually resemble tree roots.

Faustina sighed in relief. She used her magic—wind magic, to be precise. Is it because Orwell used wind magic a lot and so her body got more accustomed to it? Orwell, after all, wasn't much afflicted with other elements and only taught Faustina basically the foundations of magic. He didn't actually teach her actual combat.

"Well, Magierstadt's exam won't require you to do some flashy spells. It's basically like a test run that you should pull off easily with what you've learned from me."

Faustina wanted to facepalm. Orwell didn't teach her a whole lot! But then again, the exams changed so much that there's no one practically saw it coming.

Everyone was unprepared.

"Your mana is a bundle of mess," Mich.e.l.le said. "I can't feel the flow properly. Did you use magic beyond your capacity?"

"H-huh?"

That's when Faustina noticed Mich.e.l.le's hand on her forearm. From Mich.e.l.le's spectacles, Faustina saw her long lashes emphasized in her closed eyes.

"Oh, you're maybe unaware of it but," one of the examinees, a burly and buff bronze-skinned man said. The uniform of Magierstadt barely fit in him, so it was designed differently. "Mana flow can be checked by people who have lesser mana supply. Commoners, if I may,"

Faustina blinked.

Commoners can feel the flow of mana?

"Che. Maybe that's why those n.o.bles were so 'fraid of us. They didn't want us to find out how lil mana they have."

"Right. Especially that An'kin. He prolly thought that having the t.i.tle of a Marquis' offspring holds weight here in Magierstadt,"

"I'm sorry about that," Mich.e.l.le said, parting away from Faustina. "These people here hold no filter. I'm Mich.e.l.le, by the way."

"Faustina . . ."

"Well, there's no time for pleasantries. We've just secured a temporary glamour that should last another minute here. So we need to scram."

Faustina blinked. "Scram?"

"It means we gotta run."

**

The first thing that ran in Leviticus' mind was how much ridiculous it was to separate the students.

In Magierstadt, everyone's social status wasn't regarded as anything important.

At least, on the surface.

But then look at Lucas Feuerlon, who was the son of the Dukedom, the closest branch family of the Feuerkriegers, the ones in the throne of Feuersturm. Lucas Feuerlon got into Ianua I with his talent and magical potential.

But his social standing aided his popularity enormously.

He belonged to the second most important family in the kingdom. He was in a higher standing than the governor of the capital, his uncle Axkell or even the general of military power, the family of the Feuersoldat line.

If he had chosen not to be a mage despite the magic inside him, he could still make a pretty decent luxurious living. But then he chose to be a mage instead, which made him a servant of the people—ones that are helpers of those in need. Mages, who are knowledgeable of the world itself and the art of using elements for battle and healing.

Magierstadt claimed not to mind these trivial matters, as the academy only prioritizes the magic inside of each and every student. Leviticus knew they meant it, and their intention was good.

But the world isn't usually fond of going in people's ways. Rules are often broken and laws deemed to change over time. n.o.bles were still often successful than commoners after graduation and getting their magical licenses. They would land better jobs and join better organizations. There was no way that social standing didn't matter in school.

Commoners are discriminated against, while n.o.bles are praised and are viewed as natural - born talents.

Leviticus, spending most of his time roaming around the streets of Zweite as he sneaks away from the castle, gathered enough intel about Magierstadt for the past years.

"You're really going to make the queen go on rampage again, Prince Leviticus." It was his personal aide, Josiah who spoke. "You can't just climb on the castle towers and enter the opened windows unannounced! You're going to give me a heart attack, you know!!!"

"The queen won't know unless you tell her," Leviticus said. "By the way, did you finish the paperwork?"

"I did not. Those are your a.s.signments."

"Politics; yadda yadda. I said I'm going to be a mage in servitude of the people,"

"You're the only heir, Prince Levi!"

"Then I'll give the crown to you, Josiah."

"Prince Leviticus of Atziluth! Please don't say such rash things! If the queen was here—"

"The queen isn't here, Josiah."

"If her majesty were to hear you, you would have been made to kneel on rock salts while reciting the verses of our kingdom."

"Already done in my early childhood. I can do it without batting an eye." Leviticus chuckled. "Besides, what are the odds? I will become a mage that would help Zweite recover from the wars—get rid of the crippling poverty in here once and for all, and make the kingdoms be prosperous as they are back on year 100."

Josiah smiled. "You can do that when you're king, Prince Levi."

"I told you already, Josiah. I'm not fit to be king. I'm going to be a mage, so I'm relinquis.h.i.+ng the crown to my most faithful and trusted aide—you!"

"LEVITICUS!!!!!!"

"Oh shoot!"

"It's the queen! It's her majesty! Go to your bed and pretend to be asleep, Prince!"

**

Leviticus never understood why social standing mattered when people are basically just vessels for souls that just hand the same structure. Same consciousness.

"We're all kindred spirits—so why bother at all?"

Why bother putting a hierarchy?

Leviticus didn't understand why—or perhaps he understood, but he never got the closure he needed from it. There was no point, after all. He often asked the queen about it, yet she only replied with a one sentence line:

"It's to keep the power balanced."

Too vague, and not a reason at all. What was the power needed to be balanced? Social iniquity was one of the problems that needed to be addressed and had to be taken down, yet people are looking at the social ladder as something like a camel made of gold.

He still can't understand the wors.h.i.+p for t.i.tles. n.o.bles with name and no money and merchants with money with no name. Commoners with talent and n.o.bles with no talent. One favors the latter which should speak lengths of how unfair it is, yet people viewed it as normal.

Just why?

Leviticus thought about it the whole time he spent tea parties with n.o.bles that wanted to make a connection with him—a connection to the future king—and stealthily sneaking to commoner areas who were just barely getting by while he dressed up like them as well.

He wanted to feel both worlds to sympathize.

To be a better ruler of his country.

Leviticus listened to Anakin Disfiegro, a boy from a n.o.ble family that has risen in power after just several years. They acquired the t.i.tle of the marquis so easily that they were feared and admired for it.

IF it was a commoner that risen like that, they would be often criticized and shamed.

Leviticus watched how Anakin Disfiegro abandoned those commoners in need while helping the n.o.bles such as himself. Leviticus watched how he looked at them in disgust—and he had never felt so sick in his entire life.

Leviticus and the commoners broke through the closed doors of the entrance and then with his raging heart and a cunning smile to his face, he stood in front of Anakin and matched his baseless arrogance.

"If you want to follow us, feel free. But when you do, you have to abide by my rules. Our rules."

He pa.s.sed by them and entered the secret door he had read and studied in one of Zweite's oldest books. Leviticus tightened his grip around his staff as he kept walking inside the tunnel that seemed to never end.

"Are you okay, Leviticus?"

"Yeah, you seemed to be pretty mad."

"It's quite unusual to see you like that. It's kinda scary."

"Yeah. You're all smiles, after all."

Leviticus blinked, and then evoked an awkward curve in his lips.

"S-so, my act also applied to you bunch also?"

"What?!"

"Are you serious, you just acted mad??!!"

"Whoa, and I thought he was actually matching that Anakin's arrogance earlier!"

"Still a softie pretending to be tough, huh? Levi!"

"Well we're all exam takers here, so I guess it isn't fair to boss people around when you're not that smart either," Leviticus pouted.

The group laughed as they pa.s.sed through the tunnel, and that made Leviticus' rage disappear in an instant.

"You're funny. I'm glad you're not a n.o.ble, Leviticus!"

Leviticus let out a playful chuckle.

Of course, here he was Leviticus, just Leviticus—a mage that was friendly and always smiling. Here, he wasn't Prince of Atziluth.

Here, he's just another examinee...

Hoping to pa.s.s.

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