Chapter 523. The Headmistress of a Very Advanced Kindergarten

Chapter 523: 523. The Headmistress of a Very Advanced Kindergarten

Grock loomed like a boulder carved from granite near the gateway, his massive frame casting a long shadow across the courtyard.

His arms were crossed tight over his barrel chest, his scarred face set in an expression that wavered between stern disapproval and the weary expectation of a man who had seen too many reckless soldiers return home.

He didn’t offer a greeting; he simply watched them approach with those keen, assessing eyes that could spot a hairline fracture in armor from twenty paces.

The moment Kaela came within striking distance, Grock moved. He didn’t walk; he descended upon her gear with the methodical inevitability of an avalanche.

He seized her gauntleted hands, turning them over with brisk, brutally professional scrutiny. His thick fingers traced the metal as if reading braille, stopping abruptly at a series of fresh, jagged gouges along the vambrace.

"By the gods’ bones," Grock grumbled, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate in the cobblestones beneath their feet.

He let out a sound that was half growl, half sigh. "Were you two never taught proper equipment care in that gilded palace, or does the lesson simply fail to survive contact with an actual battlefield?"

He ran a rough thumb over a deep scratch. "This isn’t just wear, girl... This is neglect!"

"This is how steel fails when you need it most."

Kaela opened her mouth to protest, but Grock was already moving to the next joint, muttering disapprovingly about oil viscosity and edge maintenance. William simply stood there, accepting the inevitable lecture with the hollowed-out patience of a man who had heard this exact monologue at least twelve times before.

’Just let him finish,’ William thought bitterly to himself, ’if I try to defend her, he’ll just turn that scowl on me next.’

Before the lecture could reach its crescendo, a new energy pierced through the courtyard.

Lia’s reunion with Kaela unfolded exactly as the group had predicted: a chaotic collision of genuine affection and immediate, relentless interrogation.

The moment Lia spotted Kaela’s silhouette, she broke into a near sprint, her boots clicking sharply against the stone. She bridged the distance in seconds, slamming into Kaela with a fierce hug that would have winded a lesser warrior.

But the embrace was short-lived. Lia pulled back half a step almost immediately, her arms still wrapped around Kaela’s shoulders, but her eyes had narrowed into twin slits of pointed suspicion.

She scanned Kaela’s face with the intensity of a hawk spotting movement in the brush.

"You look entirely too happy," Lia stated flatly. Her voice lacked any trace of softness; it was an accusation.

"I am entirely happy, Lia... Drop it," Kaela countered, though the defensive tilt of her chin betrayed her.

"Bullshit," Lia snapped, stepping closer until they were nose to nose. "That’s not ’I had a nice vacation,’ happy."

"That’s ’I’ve committed some kind of treasonous delight,’ happy."

"I have a very bad feeling about the reason why... And you know I hate bad feelings."

The tension between them was palpable, a charged wire stretched to its breaking point. Kaela’s pupils dilated slightly, a tell that William knew all too well. She was cornered.

"Your feeling is correct," Kaela announced, lifting her chin with an exaggerated, almost royal pride that made her look utterly infuriating. "And I am not explaining further."

"Not to you, not to anyone."

Without waiting for the inevitable retort, Kaela spun on her heel. With a sudden, explosive burst of speed that left a faint swirl of dust in her wake, she bolted across the courtyard toward the dormitories.

"Oh no, you don’t!" Lia roared behind her, already launching herself into pursuit. "You think you can just run from an interrogation?"

"I fully intend to have an answer before dinner, Kaela!"

"Whether you like it or not, you are going to confess!"

The two of them became twin streaks of motion across the courtyard, their voices echoing off the ancient stone walls as Lia’s demands for answers chased Kaela’s defiant laughter. The rest of the party stood in the wake of their chaos, watching the spectacle with varying degrees of amusement and resigned exasperation.

Catherine watched the spectacle of Lia and Kaela tearing across the courtyard with the serene, detached contentment of someone observing a particularly entertaining play.

A delicate porcelain cup of tea had appeared in her hand as though summoned by sheer force of will, the steam curling upward in lazy spirals. Her lips curved into a faint smile as she tracked their chaotic trajectory.

She glanced sideways at Ellie, who stood watching the chase with open amusement, her eyes bright with the simple pleasure of seeing her friend’s defiance.

"I feel increasingly like the headmistress of a very advanced kindergarten," Catherine remarked, her voice smooth as silk, carrying an undertone of amused resignation.

Ellie let out a bright, genuine, and unguarded laugh, but the sound was severed mid-note. It collapsed into a small, sharp wince that she attempted to smother instantly with a quick, practiced smile.

For a heartbeat, her entire body stiffened, one hand drifting with obvious urgency toward the small of her back before she forcibly stilled it at her side, forcing her breathing to remain steady.

Catherine, mid-sip, missed the microexpression entirely, her attention already drifting back to the courtyard. But William, several paces away as he hauled the last of the heavy leather luggage from the carriage, saw it.

He saw the way her pupils dilated in pain, the way her shoulder hitched unnaturally. A cold knot of concern tightened in his gut.

’How bad is it?’ he wondered bitterly. ’How much is she actually hiding?’

The first few days back at the academy settled into a rhythm that felt, after the visceral terror of their journey, almost disorienting in its ordinariness. The sensory overload of daily life—the ringing of bells, the shouted greetings in corridors, and the constant motion—was jarring.

The dining hall, in particular, was a cacophony of human existence: students crowding long oak tables, the metallic scrape of cutlery against bowls, and the incessant hum of gossip flowing like wine.

It became clear within the first evening that news traveled faster than any horse in the kingdom. A wildly exaggerated, mythic version of their confrontation in the Celestial courtyard had already taken root in the Academy grapevine, transforming their tactical survival into a legendary epic long before they had even disembarked from their carriages.

William discovered the true scope of this distortion on his second morning back. The air was crisp, smelling of old stone and morning dew as he made his way across the central yard toward the training grounds.

His mind was preoccupied with the looming paperwork and the unspoken tension between Kaela and Lia when a sudden movement caught his attention.

A second year student, pale and visibly trembling, stumbled into his path. The boy bowed so deeply and so rapidly that he nearly toppled over onto the cobblestones, his forehead nearly touching his knees.

When he looked up, his eyes were wide with an almost religious awe.

"Master William," the boy stammered, his voice cracking with reverence. "It is... it is an honor beyond words to stand before you."

"The Slayer of a Thousand Soldiers."

William stopped dead, a weary sigh escaping his lips before he could stop it. The absurdity of it felt like a physical weight.

"It was not a thousand," he said, his voice flat, attempting to inject as much mundane reality as possible into the boy’s fantasy.

"Of course, Instructor! Of course!" the student replied, nodding with such frantic, desperate enthusiasm that it seemed his head might snap off his shoulders.

His eyes remained glazed with hero worship, suggesting that he hadn’t actually processed a single syllable of the correction. To him, William wasn’t a man who had survived a desperate struggle; he was a walking myth, a creature of legend carved from blood and steel.