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[TSS] Chapter 74 - Meeting the King
🕑 Added 2025-03-03 05:41:06 +0000 UTCAs Riann led him through the halls, Luke’s mind raced. He was about to meet King Julius Marxx of the Marxx Kingdom. If the statues in both academies were anything to go by, the man was both fat and ugly.
But appearance had no bearing on ability.
Luke forced himself to remain composed. Any sign of disrespect toward the monarch could have dire consequences, even if he possessed the recipe for gunpowder.
The imposing Master Boyd stepped forward, pushing open the heavy doors before standing aside, silently waiting for Luke to enter. A quick glance at the room confirmed its purpose—it was undoubtedly the throne room. The lavish décor and opulent embellishments left little room for doubt.
The chamber stretched long before him, and at the far end, the king sat perched upon his throne. Luke immediately lowered his head, advancing with careful, measured steps. Making direct eye contact could be perceived as insolence.
Only upon reaching the foot of the stairs leading to the throne did he kneel and introduce himself.
“Luke Drakon greets His Majesty, King Julius.” His tone was steady, respectful.
“Hmm, not bad for a commoner,” the king mused, sounding pleased. “Rise, Luke Drakon.”
Luke obeyed, rising to his feet. Only then did he allow himself to look at the king directly. As expected, Julius Marxx was an unsightly man, but his eyes told a different story—burning with ambition and the hunger for power.
“I have heard of your exploits, young man.” The king’s lips curled into a grin. “To rise as the top student of Clayton City's Academy and lead its defenses against the Lhair army—an impressive feat.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty. I was simply doing my duty to protect the kingdom.” Luke kept his response measured. There was no point in excessive humility. He had come here for a reason. Downplaying his accomplishments now would be counterproductive when the time came to negotiate for rewards.
“And protect it you did.” King Julius leaned forward slightly. “I have also heard of your new invention—the Thunder Bomb, I believe it was called.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I discovered it quite by accident while seeking an alchemist to treat my wounds.” This was the story Luke had settled on after Michael Ring had pressed him for details.
Revealing too much about gunpowder—or how it could be weaponized—was out of the question. Something in his gut told him that his stay in the Marxx Kingdom might not be permanent. Not with the lurking traitors. Not with the corruption that infested the noble class.
How long he remained here would depend entirely on the decision King Julius made in this very conversation.
‘If he’s a smart man, he’ll grant me a noble title. That alone would deter the Royal Academy students from challenging me openly.’
Of course, it wouldn’t protect him from what lurked in the dark.
“I see,” King Julius murmured, his gaze appraising Luke. With a subtle flick of his hand, a man stepped forward from the far side of the room, a parchment in his grasp.
“Fetch ink and scribe this,” the king commanded. “Luke Drakon, for your meritorious deeds, I shall confer upon you the title of Viscount, effective immediately. You will be granted your choice of land, to be inherited upon your graduation from the Royal Academy.”
Luke immediately dropped to one knee. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
The hurried footsteps of the scribe echoed as he rushed from the room, likely off to retrieve ink to record the decree.
“Rise, Viscount Drakon,” King Julius said. His tone was casual, but his eyes remained locked onto Luke. “With such a title, no one at the Royal Academy should dare impede you.”
Luke stood as instructed, keeping his posture formal.
“The Royal Alchemists will be in touch in the coming days,” the king continued. “I trust you will cooperate with them?”
Though phrased as a question, it was anything but. The weight of his words bore down like thunder, leaving no room for refusal.
“Yes, Your Majesty. It shall be as you say,” Luke replied, bowing once more.
“Good.” The king waved a hand dismissively. “You may leave. I have an appointment with Marquess Ring to discuss some matters…”
Luke didn’t need to be told twice. Rising swiftly, he bowed one last time before turning on his heel and heading for the doors.
Riann stood where he had before, waiting.
As Luke stepped through the threshold, he collided with a figure entering the room.
A man in a lavish robe, adorned in intricate embroidery, stood before him. His dark hair was tied into a topknot, his angular features exuding sharpness and authority. A single glance was enough—this was Marquess Ring, father of the student Luke had just killed.
The marquess shot him a look of pure disgust, his lips curling as if he'd just brushed against filth. With a slow, deliberate motion, he dusted off the spot where Luke had touched his robe before striding past him without another word.
‘Does he not know yet?’ Luke mused.
It had to be the case. If Marquess Ring knew his son was dead, there was no way he would be acting so indifferently—let alone ignoring the man responsible.
Riann shut the door behind them, then gestured for Luke to move along.
“Wait a moment,” Luke said, pressing his ear against the door.
Muffled voices seeped through the thick wood, too distorted to decipher. But then—a sharp, anguished cry rang out, freezing Luke in place.
“MY SON!”
The outburst sent a shiver down his spine.
‘So he knows now.’
He needed to leave. Immediately. There was no telling what an enraged father would do after learning his son had been killed—especially a man of Marquess Ring’s standing.
Without hesitation, Luke allowed himself to be led from the palace by Master Boyd. The journey back to the Royal Academy was swift, yet heavy with tension. To his surprise, Boyd accompanied him all the way to his dormitory before departing.
As soon as Riann left, Luke exhaled deeply.
The suffocating weight in his chest eased.
Being in the presence of those men—King Julius, Master Boyd, Marquess Ring—was like standing beneath a collapsing mountain. Now, finally alone, he could breathe again.
Luke’s eyes swept across his surroundings. Dusk had settled, and candlelight flickered through the dorm windows, casting faint glows against the darkening sky.
Deciding to check on Kayson and the others, he entered the building.
The moment he stepped into the lobby, the atmosphere shifted. Conversations halted, and dozens of unfamiliar faces turned toward him, their gazes heavy with scrutiny. The room fell into silence.
Luke didn’t need to guess why.
Whether they had witnessed the duel firsthand or merely heard the rumors, everyone here knew. He had killed the Marquess’s son. News spread fast in the Royal Academy, and today was no exception.
Ignoring the stares, he scanned the room but saw no sign of his friends. With a sigh, he decided to head to his dorm—perhaps they were waiting there for him.
Reaching his door, he grasped the handle and pushed it open without a second thought.
Then he froze.
Victoria stood in the center of the room, her robe slipping from her shoulders. Her fair skin and tantalizing curves were slowly revealed, illuminated by the soft candlelight.
Luke’s blood pressure spiked to dangerous levels.
Then, just as quickly, his mind snapped back to reality.
The joy of the moment was instantly drowned by a wave of sheer panic. If he was caught in this situation—if she discovered he had been peaking—there was no telling what kind of pain and suffering awaited him.
His instincts took over.
He shut the door so fast that the entire frame shook.
‘Ah, shit…’ he cursed inwardly.
Closing the door that way was a mistake. A huge mistake. Wouldn’t it have been better to slowly, quietly shut it and avoid drawing attention?
His heart pounded as he hesitated, standing stiffly outside the door.
“V-Victoria… are you decent?” he called, his voice quivering more than he’d intended.
“Come in.”
Her response was calm. Feminine. Completely unaffected.
Luke let out a shaky breath before cautiously reopening the door and stepping inside.
His relief was short-lived.
Victoria wasn’t fully dressed. A single strip of fabric was tightly wound around her chest, but it did little to hide the shape of her curves.
Heat surged to Luke’s face, and he instinctively averted his gaze.
Before he could urge her to put some clothes on, Victoria closed the distance between them in an instant. Her limpid brown eyes locked onto his, unwavering and unreadable.
Luke took a step back, half-expecting an attack.
Instead, she leaned in—slowly, gently—before wrapping her arms around him.
“I’m glad you’re safe, young master,” she whispered.
Luke froze.
His mind went blank. For a few long moments, he simply stood there, unable to process what was happening.
Her warmth pressed against him, her soft curves making it nearly impossible to think.
“W-What are you doing? Quick, put some clothes on,” he stammered, finally regaining some sense of himself.
Victoria pulled away, a soft smile gracing her lips before she casually reached for her robe and slipped it back on.
Luke’s thoughts were racing.
‘What’s gotten into her? She was never like this before… Was it because of that conversation we had?’
Back then, she had questioned him about his ambitions, and he had given her a decisive answer: ‘If necessary, I’ll create my own kingdom.’
Since then, her attitude toward him had changed.
First, she had wished him luck before his duel—something she had never done before. And now, she had just embraced him while barely clothed.
Then there was the system alert. The one that had labeled her as a potential subordinate.
“I’m ready,” Victoria said, adjusting her robe. “Kayson and Sebastian should be in their room. Let’s go have a meal together.” A warm smile accompanied her words.
The mere mention of food made Luke’s stomach let out a loud, undignified growl, throwing whatever complicated thoughts had plagued him. Only now did he realize how long it had been since he’d last eaten. From his morning lectures to the duel and his audience with the king, the day had been nothing short of exhausting.
A warm meal and a good night’s sleep—those were his priorities now.
“Let’s go, then,” he said, stepping out the door.
Coincidentally, Kayson and Sebastian’s room was right next door. The moment it opened, Kayson engulfed him in a bear hug, lifting him slightly off the ground.
“You’re alive! Ha! I knew it!” Kayson grinned, shaking him slightly before releasing his grip.
Sebastian, standing a few feet away, merely smiled, his eyes filled with pride.
Together, they made their way to the dining hall, which resembled a lavish restaurant more than a traditional mess hall. Candles illuminated the polished wooden tables, and neatly dressed servants bustled about, tending to the students.
Luke ignored the stares that followed his every step. They had become a constant presence since the duel. Instead, he led his group to an empty table and sat down.
Moments later, a young servant approached hesitantly. Her hands trembled slightly, and she refused to meet his gaze.
“E-Excuse me, my lord,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “Servants are not permitted to dine in this hall…”
Luke’s brows furrowed.
“You don’t need to concern yourself with that,” Luke said evenly, though his irritation was clear.
The girl hesitated. “B-But, my lord—”
“Just bring the meal,” he cut in, waving a hand dismissively. “I’ll deal with any consequences.”
The servant bowed quickly before hurrying away. Luke exhaled, trying to keep his emotions in check. He knew the girl was only following orders. This wasn’t her fault.
Yet before their food could arrive, an unwelcome presence loomed over the table.
Luke instantly felt his mood sour.
“Instructor…” he greeted, voice laced with irritation. His stomach growled again in protest. He was exhausted. The last thing he wanted was another pointless confrontation.
Instructor Quentin, the academy’s Master of Etiquette, stood before him. The effeminate instructor was as Luke remembered—powdered face, thin frame, and a perpetual air of superiority. He had been mocking Luke just that morning.
And now, he stood there, nose scrunched in disgust.
“What can you do for me?” Quentin snapped, his voice shrill with indignation. “How dare you disgrace the noble customs of this academy! Allowing servants to dine at the same table—have you no decorum? You savage!”
Spittle flew from his mouth, some of it landing squarely on Luke’s cheek.
A vein twitched in Luke’s temple.
Slowly, deliberately, he wiped the saliva from his face.
He could feel the weight of the room’s silence pressing in on him. Every student had their eyes locked onto the scene, awaiting his response.
Luke exhaled.
Then he stood.
He stepped forward, closing the distance between them until he was mere inches from the instructor’s face.
“With all due respect, Instructor…” His voice was low, laced with danger. “How about you mind your own fucking business?”
The air in the hall shifted.
A heavy pressure descended upon the room as Luke activated Domineering Air.
The once lively dining hall fell into an eerie silence. Conversations stopped. Utensils clattered onto plates. Even the servants, who had been moving between tables, froze in place.
The effect was immediate.
Quentin’s breath hitched. His eyes widened in fear.
For a brief second, his body trembled.
But the fear was quickly swallowed by rage, and his face turned an angry shade of red.
“You—!”
