The Exalted Prince Lives Again
Chapter 65: PEQD 137

Chapter 65: PEQD 137

Staring at him from the back was a handsome guy with lavender purple hair and enchanting eyes of the same color.

His posture was loose, a dead giveaway of someone who was not a warrior.

Lucien walked forward, looking for a seat.

The only empty ones were next to Michael, on the other side of the circle, and three seats on the other side, which most likely belonged to Kane’s group.

It was obvious what Lucien chose.

And even he was curious about the Sorcerers’ department’s valedictorian.

Lucien wordlessly took the seat beside him, earning a brief stare from other cadets around him.

"Lucien Callastre," Michael said softly without even moving his head.

"Michael Fonseca," Lucien greeted back, looking straight ahead just like him.

Michael was one of the few people in the entire academy whose background was on a similar level to Lucien’s.

The firstborn of one of the Octad of the Sentinel Order.

The biggest, most powerful organization in the entire world, on a similar level to the Holy State of Caelum.

Both organizations were more powerful than entire nations, and their leaders were in the legendary Zenith realm.

Octad was the group of the eight most powerful people right below the Sentinel Order’s leader, and Michael’s father was one of them.

"Should I be flattered or concerned that you know me and greeted me?"

"Neither," Michael said, his voice serene, "It would be irresponsible of me not to know of my classmates, especially someone like you."

Lucien blinked.

Despite having a status technically higher than his, there was not a shred of arrogance.

Just pure logic.

Before Lucien could reply, the door at the front opened, and a middle-aged woman entered the room.

Mid-fifties, short grey hair swept tightly to the back, a razor-sharp posture, and a gaze that cut deeper than any sword.

Professor Elira Vantella.

"Stand."

Everyone rose instantly.

"I am your professor for PEQD-137, that is Political Etiquette and Diplomacy, Professor Elira Ventella."

Her voice was just as sharp as her glare, and so were her words.

"This class will not teach you how to dance, or how to hold your teacup, or whether to bow or curtsy. No. Those are refinements.

"This class would teach you something much more useful—how to wield power in a room without raising your voice."

Cadets’ interest peaked.

Professor Elira paced slowly around the inner circle, her heels tapping against the wood loudly.

"Etiquette," she said loudly, "is a game of unspoken weapons. You show deference to someone weaker than you to elevate their pride. Remaining silent in the face of insult isn’t weakness, but the calm of someone who knows their worth. You offer your hand not in friendship, but to make sure they know who you are."

’This is so corny.’ Lucien brooded, already dreading his future in this elective.

Sure, this might not entirely be useless, but Elira was treating basic human emotions as some sort of weakness.

It’s not.

Lucien was already losing interest in the class.

"You are here to here to learn the art of control, how to win the war even if you lose the battle."

Lucien noticed that Michael, next to him, was trembling.

He stole a quick glance and witnessed Michael holding back his laughter.

Lucien felt the same.

"You," She called out to Michael, "Noble blood. Your posture betrays it."

Michae rolled his eyes and fixed his slumped posture.

Elira looked around, noticing that Lucien wasn’t paying much attention either.

"When you walk in a room, what’s the first thing you do?" She asked, pointing her pen straight towards Lucien.

Lucien didn’t miss a beat: "Find the person who talks the most, and see if anyone listens."

Elira’s brows furrowed.

The answer was somehow right.

Michael looked towards him, impressed and curious.

"Correct," Elira said, stepping away bitterly, "Always observe, and listen before you speak.

"Know your allies, know your opponents, know your foes, and know your audience."

Lucien already knew everything.

This wasn’t the first time he had to go through this.

People were always impressed by a class like this, but as one traversed deeper and deeper, it became clearer.

It was all just some bullshit for stuck-up people who put their insignifact bloodline over other’s hardwork.

It was obnoxious.

Elira asked a few more cadets questions, and as expected, they weren’t able to answer.

As expected.

She guessed it might be because he was a royal blood.

Lucien practically knew what she was thinking.

Snap!

She snapped her fingers, and three male assistants entered with a pile of notebooks.

They handed these black, thin notebooks to each of the cadets.

"They are your observational journals," she said, raising one of her own. "You will keep them around with you all the time. Your work is to record how people speak, how they dress, and how they hesitate before talking or answering.

"You will be tested, not by your powers like barbarians, but by your ability to predict the room."

Ugh!

Lucien groaned on inside, weirded out by every sentence of hers.

The rest of the session covered the foundations of status signaling, diplomatic misdirection, and courtly leverage.

Topics that most students found dizzying and some annoying.

And after a jarring one and a half hours of the class, Elira finally stopped.

"That’s it for today. Class dismissed." Her heels tapped away sharply as she vanished from the cadet’s line of sight.

"You answered rather well earlier," Michael praised him, slumping back to his posture yet again, "I guess royalty is indeed different."

"It’s obnoxious." Lucien shrugged.

"..."

Michael was silent for a bit. "You are not what I expected."

Lucien turned his head to face Michael, "Neither are you."

Finally, Michael stood up, stretching his muscles, which were not at the same level as a warrior’s, and spoke, "It was nice meeting you, Lucien."

"Same here." Lucien also stood up, his posture still flawless.

They both shook each other’s hands, and Michael bade him farewell.

Lucien watched as Michael left, and he left too.

He took out his phone and opened the map to set his destination towards the Student Council room.

’Let’s get to the annoying part now.’