An hour later, the atmosphere at the Imperial Youth Academy was extremely tense.
The wealthy teenage nobles were huddled in the corners of the classroom, whispering frantically and casting terrified glances at the back of the room.
Chijen was sitting at his tiny desk. He wasn't reciting poetry. He was aggressively unfurling a five-foot-long legal scroll, a brush in his hand as he rapidly calculated compound interest.
Suddenly, the sliding doors slammed open.
The Headmaster of the Academy—a highly respected, incredibly arrogant elderly scholar who had tutored princes—marched into the room. He had heard about the incident with Lord Lin yesterday, and he was absolutely furious.
"Vanguard Saura Chijen!" the Headmaster barked, stroking his long white beard. "This Academy is a place of refined learning and aristocratic grace! We do not tolerate military thugs terrorizing our noble students! Stand up and apologize immediately, or I will expel you!"
