Elsewhere in the Academy, Gregor moved through the hallways with a purpose that transcended his usual territorial dominance of his shared room with Adam.

He'd been watching. Learning.

Brute intimidation had limits—especially in a place where everyone could fight. One moment you were leaning on a scrawny-looking kid, the next he was drawing steel and putting it into your gut. Power wasn't always loud here, and it wasn't always obvious.

Most of the purebred commoners hadn't arrived by accident. If he thought about it, nearly all of them came with recommendations—combat aptitude, field survival, something that marked them as worth the Academy's time. Sparkshire didn't take nobodies. Not really.

Even Adam—the one he pushed around, or at least liked to think he did—set his instincts on edge. There was something wrong about the boy. Something coiled beneath the surface.

He just couldn't tell what yet.

I need a better strategy, Gregor decided.

Raw intimidation wasn't enough—not here. Not without insulation.

A safety net. The same one his father had always relied on, dealing out consequences to those beneath him while a noble house stood behind the blow.

He needed connections. People who could shield him when things went wrong—and push him forward when things went right.

Align with real power, he thought. Even if it means standing in someone else's shadow. Even if I'm just the muscle.

Better a goon with backing than a bully standing alone.

Theodore Selaris represented exactly that opportunity.

A First-year noble just like him who commanded respect without demanding it. Whose followers deferred naturally. Whose family connections suggested his real influence rather than purchased prestige.

That's who I need to impress, Gregor realized.

Being a Cavendish affiliate only went so far. There were no true Cavendish scions in his year to shield him, no inherited authority to lean on. And the world—this world especially—was cutthroat.

In the end, it was always the same rule: everyone for themselves.

He found Theodore in the study area, surrounded by his usual cluster of minor nobles and wealthy candidates, discussing some aspect of warfare theory that Gregor only partially understood.

"Lord Selaris," Gregor approached with a carefully measured deference—not groveling, but acknowledging the status differential. "Might I speak with you briefly?"

Theodore looked up, his expression showing mild interest rather than irritation. "Of course. You're Gregor, yes? Your father serves House Cavendish?"

He knows who I am, Gregor thought with satisfaction. Probably did his research, that's promising.

"Yes, my lord. Father has been a butler to House Cavendish for twenty years. Secured my Academy position through that connection."

"Honest about your placement," Theodore observed. "Refreshing. Most candidates with similar backgrounds pretend they earned it through pure merit."

"Merit alone doesn't open doors," Gregor replied. "Understanding that reality seems more useful than pretending otherwise."

Good, Theodore thought, reassessing the large candidate.

That's more sophisticated than I expected from someone whose primary capability appears to be physical intimidation.

"What can I do for you, Gregor?" Theodore asked.

"I want to be useful," Gregor said bluntly. "I recognize you're building a network. Organizing candidates with proper understanding of how the Academy actually functions. I'd like to contribute to that effort."

Theodore studied him with calculating precision—measuring the sincerity, assessing his utility, determining whether Gregor represented an asset or a liability.

He's big, Theodore noted. Likely competent in a straight fight. Not especially subtle, but aware of his own limits—and that made him predictable.

Predictable could be useful.

Someone like that would function well as muscle, an instrument for pressure when words and reputation weren't enough.

"What makes you think I'm building a network?" Theodore asked neutrally.

"Because every noble who survives learns to," Gregor said. "Because the Academy isn't about scores or duels—it's a proving ground for future command. Because the ties you form here will outlast any single performance."

He hesitated, just long enough for the silence to matter.

"And because I've been watching you," he added. "The way you move people. The way you place yourself. There's a level of sophistication there most students never even notice."

Smarter than he looks, Theodore revised. Or at least more observant. That's potentially valuable.

"Suppose I were building such network," Theodore said carefully. "What contribution could you offer?"

"Physical presence," Gregor said plainly. "That's what I bring. It's all I've got."

He shrugged, unapologetic.

"Pressure without blood. Making outpost kids and commoner students understand that raw ability isn't enough to get ahead. And doing it in ways the instructors can't touch—because none of it crosses a line they can officially punish."

Theodore's expression didn't shift, but his internal calculations accelerated.

He could work, Theodore realized. An enforcement arm.

Someone to apply pressure while he stayed untouched, insulated by distance and reputation. The sort of person who made things unpleasant without leaving fingerprints.

That was what a proper exclusion campaign required—dirty hands at the edges, and clean ones at the center.

"That could be useful," Theodore acknowledged. "Provided your application remains subtle. Provided you understand that the goal isn't crude bullying but a more nuanced social pressure. That we're creating an environment where certain candidates choose to leave rather than being forced out through obvious means."

"I understand completely," Gregor confirmed.

No you don't, Theodore thought. You understand enough to be useful. That's sufficient.

"Then consider yourself provisionally included," Theodore said. "Coordinate with Markus—" He gestured at one of his inner circle. "—he'll explain the current initiatives. Provide guidance on targets and methods. Ensure your contributions align with our broader strategy."

"Thank you, my lord," Gregor said, satisfaction evident.

"One more thing," Theodore added as Gregor began to leave. "Give the clear dregs and commoners a tougher time. Particularly the Vester recruits. Make their daily experience sufficiently unpleasant that continuing the Academy attendance feels like a burden rather than an opportunity."

"Ruin their spirit and inclination to persevere," Theodore continued. "Make them doubt themselves. Make them question whether the advancement is worth the daily misery."

"Understood," Gregor confirmed, already planning how to implement the systematic harassment.

Perfect, Theodore thought as Gregor departed. Another tool acquired.

He bore no personal grudge against the Vester recruits. They'd already been ground down by circumstance—hurt enough to earn a measure of respect. But that, precisely, was the problem.

Suffering had honed them into something dangerous.

They might be maestros of violence, fluent in blood and survival, but words—words were different. The blade of rhetoric, the quiet wars of implication and exclusion—that was a noble's craft.

That's how you win at Academy. Not through academic excellence alone. Through building an apparatus that eliminates competition before it becomes threat.

Father would approve. House Selaris understands that power comes from systems, not just individuals.

Markus approached once Gregor was out of earshot.

"You're really including him?" Markus asked skeptically. "He's crude. Limited in ability. Barely better than the commoners he's supposed to pressure."

"Which makes him perfect," Theodore replied. "He will provide the capability I lack without threatening my position. He's eager enough to be useful without being ambitious enough to be dangerous. He understands his limitations while being willing to operate within them."

"Plus—" Theodore added with calculated cynicism. "—if the campaign gets exposed, he's expendable. He will take the consequences while I maintain distance. That's the value of having my enforcement separate from my leadership."

Around them, the Academy continued its evening routine—students studying, training, developing through conventional means.

While Theodore built his power through unconventional methods that exploited the system's weaknesses and students' vulnerabilities.

Outside, Sparkshire's lamps illuminated the campus with a beautiful light that suggested enlightenment and progress.

While darkness gathered in the social dynamics that education couldn't eliminate and instructors couldn't entirely prevent.

That was the Academy reality at this point .

Learning to navigate not just combat.

But power in all its forms.

Whether you had nobility to guide you.

Or had to learn through a painful experience.

Either way, the lesson was being taught.

Whether the student survived it depended on what they developed.

Or failed to develop before the pressure broke them.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.