[A couple minutes later]
Of course my first class had to be etiquette and mannerism.
The classroom was located in one of the grand halls, adorned with high windows that let in golden sunlight. The walls were lined with portraits of past kings, queens, and noble figures, all staring down at me with expressions that practically screamed we are judging you.
The room itself was filled with rows of finely carved wooden desks, and the students already inside were seated far too properly—backs straight, hands neatly folded, expressions blank like they were already bored out of their minds.
I took my seat near the middle, not bothering to sit with the stiff posture everyone else had.
[A/N: Le gasp!! He didn't sit in the protagonist seat, what a shocker heh.]
The professor entered—a strict-looking woman with silver hair tightly pulled into a bun and piercing gray eyes that looked like they could cut steel. She was dressed in a high-collared black gown, and her presence alone was enough to silence the entire room.
"I am Professor Lenora Halstead," she announced. "This class is meant to refine you. Many of you believe that blood alone makes a noble—you are mistaken."
Her eyes swept over the students, lingering on me.
"It is grace, dignity, and discipline that separate the truly elite from the common rabble. And if you lack these qualities, then I will teach them to you."
Some of the nobles smirked, already thinking about how I, the low-born prince, would struggle in a class like this.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
"Etiquette is not simply about knowing which fork to use at dinner," Professor Halstead continued. "It is about control. The way you walk, the way you stand, the way you speak—these things dictate how others perceive you. If you fail in this, you fail as a ruler."
Her gaze flickered to me again, as if daring me to prove her wrong. I leaned back in my chair and smirked. "Sounds exhausting."
A few students gasped at my lack of formal address. Professor Halstead merely raised an eyebrow. "Does it now, Your Highness?"
I shrugged. "Spending all my energy pretending to be something I'm not? I'd rather not."
"Ah." She took a slow step forward, her heels clicking against the marble floor. "And what, pray tell, are you, Your Highness?"
I met her gaze without hesitation. "Someone who doesn't need to pretend to be better than everyone else."
The room fell silent. For a moment, I thought she might snap at me. But instead, she did something I didn't expect. She smiled.
It was small, barely noticeable, but it was there.
"Confidence is important," she said, "but arrogance without discipline is simply a child's tantrum."
I smirked. "And rules without reason are just empty traditions." The air between us crackled with tension. Then, to my surprise, she let out a light chuckle.
"Very well, Your Highness," she said, eyes gleaming with interest. "Let us see if you can back up your words."
This was going to be fun.
...
Professor Halstead's eyes gleamed with intrigue as she studied me. It was the first time in years that a student had challenged her authority so openly, and I could tell that rather than being offended, she was entertained.
"Very well, Your Highness," she said, her lips curving slightly. "Since you believe rules without reason are empty traditions, let us put your reasoning to the test."
I stretched lazily, cracking my fingers as I smirked. She thinks she can break me? She had no idea who she was dealing with.
I had lived multiple lives.
I had been a noble before. A scholar. A knight. A war general. A king. I had been a butler once, for some godforsaken reason, and in one particularly odd life, I had even been a diplomat who had to maneuver through treacherous court politics where a single misstep could mean death.
I knew etiquette and mannerisms like the back of my hand. This was going to be fun.
Professor Halstead took a sharp step forward, her heeled boots clicking against the polished floor.
"Stand, Your Highness," she commanded.
I pushed my chair back with an effortless grace, rising to my feet in a single motion. I did not fidget. I did not slouch. My back remained perfectly straight, my hands folded neatly behind me, and my expression was as calm and composed as any seasoned aristocrat.
The students around me straightened in their seats, their earlier smugness vanishing.
Professor Halstead circled me like a predator, eyes scanning for any flaw.
"A proper noble carries themselves with dignity," she lectured. "They must command a room simply by existing. Shoulders back. Chin high. Hands placed precisely at the sides or behind the back."
Too bad for her, I already had perfect posture. I wasn't just standing, I was exuding presence.
There was a natural regality in my stance, something I had cultivated over lifetimes of authority. The other students felt it too.
Even Benedict, who had been sitting smugly moments before, now looked tense, as if realizing that I was on a completely different level.
Professor Halstead narrowed her eyes. "Very good," she admitted, but there was an edge to her voice. "But posture alone does not make one a noble. A true ruler must know the proper way to walk."
She gestured to the front of the classroom, where a long, polished walkway extended between the desks.
"Walk to the end of the room and back," she instructed.
I nodded once and moved with ease, my footsteps perfectly measured, my gait smooth and deliberate. I didn't rush. I didn't hesitate.
Every step was taken with intentional precision, exuding a confidence that was both unshakable and natural.
When I reached the end of the walkway, I pivoted effortlessly, my heel turning exactly as it should, and walked back with the same flawless poise.
A few of the girls in class blinked, clearly a little too impressed.
Even Professor Halstead seemed caught off guard for a moment before composing herself.
"Where did you learn to walk like that?" she demanded. I gave her an easy smile. "Oh, just experience."
Her lips thinned. "We shall see." Then she announced we would begin the next test.
Professor Halstead clapped her hands, and within moments, a team of servants entered, carrying a full dining setup—plates, utensils, goblets, napkins, and an array of delicate pastries and small appetizers.
"The way one eats," she explained, "is often the truest measure of their refinement. A noble must be able to conduct themselves flawlessly in formal settings."
I sat down at the table provided, watching as a servant placed a plate before me. The setup was elaborate—five different forks, three knives, two spoons, and an assortment of glasses.
Benedict was seated across from me, and the moment he picked up a fork, I knew he was struggling.
His movements were hesitant, his grip slightly awkward—subpar at best. He clearly understood some etiquette but lacked the years of refinement that were required to perfect it.
Professor Halstead watched us like a hawk. "Begin."
I reached for my utensils with fluidity and precision, picking up the correct fork for the appetizer without even glancing at the others.
I cut into the delicate pastry with perfectly measured pressure, ensuring that not a single crumb fell out of place. I brought the piece to my lips with an air of effortless grace, taking a single, refined bite.
Not too large, not too small—just right.
Every action was deliberate, calculated, and utterly flawless.
Benedict, on the other hand, was clearly struggling to keep up. His movements were slightly stiff, his fork scraped against his plate a little too loudly, and I could see a hint of frustration in his eyes.
By the time I finished, not a single crumb was left on my plate. Professor Halstead stared.
The other students stared. Even the servants who had been observing in the background looked mildly stunned. Finally, Professor Halstead exhaled.
"I see," she murmured. "You are... quite advanced, Your Highness."
I smiled. "I try."
Professor Halstead did not let up.
She threw everything at me—complex forms of address, archaic noble speech, intricate bowing techniques, and even the proper way to hold a lady's hand during a greeting.
I excelled in everything.
There was nothing she could throw at me that I hadn't already mastered in past lives.
Every bow I executed was flawless. Every form of address utterly precise. Every subtle nuance in speech delivered with perfection. By the time the lesson neared its end, it was clear that I had passed every test she had.
The verdict? I was just too good. Heh, bow to me mortals.
Professor Halstead finally sighed, closing the book she had been referencing.
"Your Highness," she said, "it seems that my class has nothing to teach you."
The entire classroom fell silent. Benedict froze, his expression tightening with disbelief. The other nobles exchanged stunned glances, clearly not expecting such an outcome.
"From this moment forward," she declared, "you are dismissed from Etiquette & Mannerism. There is no need for you to attend any further lessons. Your refinement is already beyond the level of this class."
Benedict's hands clenched into fists.
The other students looked outraged—some of them couldn't even pass this class after years of lessons, and yet I had done it in one day.
I let out a relaxed breath. "Well, that was easier than I expected."
Professor Halstead eyed me with amusement. "You are... quite unusual, Your Highness. But I suspect I shall enjoy watching you navigate court life."
I smirked. "You and me both."
And with that, the lesson ended. As I walked out of the classroom, I could feel Benedict's glare burning into my back.
The poor guy was seething.
And honestly?
I was loving every second of it.
=
=
I strode through the corridors at an unhurried pace, hands tucked into the folds of my coat. Behind me, several servants trailed at a respectful distance, their postures stiff and their expressions hyper-focused, as if anticipating my next request.
It was suffocating.
I had spent the past eight years of my life dressing, feeding, and cleaning myself without the need for attendants. To suddenly have a group of people following my every move, waiting for me to demand something, was incredibly annoying.
But I let them be.
I had no intention of making a fuss over something so minor.
As I wandered the hallways, I eventually came across a set of heavy oak doors, their dark wood intricately carved with symbols I recognized instantly—arcane sigils, ancient runes, and inscriptions of power.
Magic.
Now that was interesting. Curious, I pushed open the door.
The room inside was vast, lined with towering bookshelves filled with aged tomes and scrolls. At the center, a massive circular table was inscribed with arcane markings, pulsating with faint magical energy.
Unlike the other classrooms, which were filled with dozens of nobles, this lecture hall only held a handful of students—no more than fifteen or so.
Most of them weren't nobles, judging by their simpler attire and less refined posture.
And standing at the front of the room, delivering an in-depth lecture on Runic and Arcane Magic, was an ancient-looking wizard with a long silver beard, deep violet robes, and a towering pointed hat adorned with celestial embroidery.
He turned slightly, revealing a sharp nose, piercing golden eyes, and deep wrinkles etched into his weathered face. His presence alone radiated power, and I could tell that this man was no ordinary magician.
His voice was deep and rich with wisdom as he gestured to a floating runic projection, explaining something about the nature of arcane inscriptions and their connection to mana flow.
For a moment, I simply stood there, watching. I had seen this before, Lived this before. Memories flooded my mind—memories of another life, another time.
The great Merlin had once stood before me, his booming voice echoing across the sacred halls of Avalon.
I had been his apprentice, learning the secrets of true magic, studying ancient scripts under candlelight, experimenting with forbidden spells, and pushing the very boundaries of the arcane.
It had been a good life. One of my favorites, in fact.
A small, nostalgic smile tugged at my lips.
"Heh. This takes me back."
I silently took a seat toward the back of the room, folding one leg over the other as I leaned into the chair.
The students hadn't noticed me yet, as they were too focused on the lecture, and the wizard had his back turned as he continued to write glowing runes in the air.
I listened quietly.
Despite the academy being prestigious, it was clear that this class was undervalued.
Runic and Arcane Magic weren't exactly popular subjects amongst noble children. Most high-ranking families saw magic as secondary to diplomacy, strategy, or combat.
To them, magic was a tool—something that could be wielded by hired mages and scholars rather than studied firsthand. But these students were different.
They weren't here for status. They were here because they wanted to learn. I respected that. The wizard continued his lecture, his voice steady as he gestured to the glowing inscriptions in the air.
"…and so, when inscribing a binding rune, one must take into account the mana flow and compatibility of the user. If an individual lacks sufficient affinity, the rune will either remain dormant or cause an unstable reaction."
A student raised his hand.
"Master Solvane, is it possible to inscribe runes without a magical core?"
Ah. That's his name.
Solvane.
A fitting name for a wizard.
Solvane stroked his beard, his expression thoughtful. "A good question. While it is true that some techniques allow for external inscription, a mage's personal mana signature is what grants true stability to a rune. Without a magical core, one would have to rely on pre-inscribed artifacts or enchanted objects."
He turned toward the board and waved a hand, causing a series of floating symbols to shift and rearrange themselves.
"The first recorded use of rune magic dates back to—"
Then he froze. His golden eyes snapped toward me, widening ever so slightly. The other students, noticing his reaction, followed his gaze.
Then, one by one, they all stood up abruptly.
Recognition
"Your Highness!" the students greeted in unison, bowing deeply.
Solvane, despite being a man of wisdom and stature, gave a formal nod as well. I let out a sigh, resting my chin on my hand. There goes my peaceful learning experience.
"Now, now," I said, waving a hand lazily. "No need for all that. I'm just here to listen."
Solvane studied me with sharp, discerning eyes. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your company, Your Highness?"
I shrugged. "I was dismissed from my previous class, so I thought I'd roam around and see if there was anything worth sitting in on." The wizard raised a brow. "Dismissed?"
"Apparently, I already knew everything the professor had to offer."
A wave of murmurs swept through the students. Even Solvane looked mildly intrigued. "Fascinating," he mused, stroking his beard. "And yet, you found yourself drawn to this particular subject."
"Of course," I replied smoothly. "Runic and Arcane Magic is one of the most intricate and profound fields of study. It is the foundation of true sorcery, the root of all magical arts. Only a fool would overlook its value."
The moment I said those words, several students looked at me in shock.
This class was usually overlooked and ridiculed by the noble students. To hear the Crown Prince himself speak so highly of it was practically unheard of.
Solvane's lips curled into a knowing smile.
"…You have studied this before."
I grinned. "You could say that."
His golden eyes flickered with amusement. "Then tell me, Your Highness—what do you believe is the true essence of runic magic?"
The room fell silent and all eyes turned to me. I exhaled slowly, leaning forward with a knowing smile.
"The essence of runic magic," I said, "is not power, nor control—but understanding."
I continued.
"Runes are not just symbols. They are concepts, laws, and fundamental truths written into reality itself. To wield them properly, one must not simply memorize patterns or sequences—but rather, grasp the very meaning behind them."
[A/N: Remember I said that Camden will act his age sometimes? Well just forget he is 8 yrs old here. Doubt any 8 yr old no matter how smart would talk like this.]
I leaned back. "That is what separates a master of the arcane from a mere practitioner."
For a moment, there was only silence. Then, slowly, a chuckle rumbled from Solvane's throat. "Very well said, Your Highness."
[A few minutes later]
The class continued, and I remained seated, listening with mild amusement as Magus Solvane resumed his lecture. Occasionally, he would glance my way, his golden eyes glinting with intrigue.
It was clear he saw me as a curiosity—a Crown Prince with a keen interest in Runic and Arcane Magic, something most nobles scoffed at. But I wasn't here to impress anyone.
I just liked magic.
I had spent lifetimes studying it.
Solvane, for all his wisdom, was good—very good. But he was nowhere near Merlin's level. That said, I still enjoyed seeing different interpretations of the craft, and watching these students struggle to grasp what I once considered second nature was oddly endearing.
At certain points, the old wizard would turn to me, his gaze sharp and expectant.
"Your Highness," he said, stroking his silver beard, "tell me—if one were to inscribe a rune of containment, but the mana flow was unbalanced, what would be the likely result?"
I smirked. "A rupture in the containment field, causing an unstable discharge of energy. Best case scenario? The rune fizzles out and becomes useless. Worst case?" I paused, then shrugged. "A violent explosion."
Solvane chuckled. "Indeed. And how might one prevent such an outcome?"
"Simple. The flow must be directed, not forced. Rather than trying to suppress the energy like a dam holding back water, the rune should act like a river guiding the current. This allows for controlled stability rather than forced constraint."
Solvane nodded in approval, but before he could ask another question, a voice spoke up from the back.
"Um… Y-Your Highness?"
I turned my head slightly.
A young girl, likely fifteen or sixteen, sat a few seats away. She had light brown hair tied into a loose ponytail, a dusting of freckles across her nose, and a nervous but determined look in her eyes.
She wasn't a noble, that much was clear.
Her uniform was well-kept but slightly worn, and her shoes showed signs of repair. I already liked her.
"What is it?" I asked casually.
She swallowed, gripping her quill tightly. "I-I've been struggling with Runic Sequences, specifically how they interlock. I understand how to activate a rune, but when I try to chain them together, they become… unstable."
Ah. A good question.
I tapped my fingers against the desk. "You're treating the runes as separate entities, aren't you?"
She blinked. "I… well, yes?"
"There's your mistake," I said, stretching lazily. "Runes don't function as isolated spells; they function as part of a system. Think of them like gears in a clock—each one contributes to the overall mechanism. If you simply stack runes together, they'll clash. But if you design them to flow into one another, they'll work seamlessly."
She frowned, deep in thought. "So… instead of just carving one rune and adding another, I should… what? Weave them together?"
"Exactly," I said, snapping my fingers. "Use the output energy of one rune as the input flow for the next. That way, instead of fighting each other, they'll support one another."
Her eyes lit up with understanding. "Ohhh! That makes so much sense!"
I chuckled. "Good. Now don't forget it."
The girl gave me a grateful smile, nodding quickly. The other students, who had been eavesdropping, looked equally intrigued. Solvane, who had been watching the interaction with mild amusement, finally spoke again.
"Well, well," he mused. "Your Highness, it seems you not only understand magic, but you also know how to teach it."
I grinned. "I've had a lot of practice."
=========================================================
Author's note:
Just 3 more chapters before the childhood arc ends. After that there will be 2-3 teenage hood chaps. After that, the real adventure begins. So at chapter 20, we begin the fun.
Power stones!!!
I see no need for them but just hand em over.