The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL]

Of course not.

And really, it would all depend on who you asked.

But for most of the galaxy, it was a move that might actually be appreciated.

Just as Marshal Julian was about to appreciate the unexpected boon that was about to land on his desk.

Curtis stormed into the Marshal’s office without knocking.

Normally, this would be grounds for disciplinary action.

But Eden, who had been prepared to lecture him on basic decorum, paused when she saw the look on his dorky face.

That was not a man arriving with routine paperwork.

The Marshal glanced up from the logistical nightmare he was reviewing. The profiles of all those masters who just requested clearance were certainly alarming.

Curtis looked like he had seen the end of the world.

”Curtis. Did someone die?” Julian asked calmly.

”Soon, Marshal,” Curtis replied. ”If we don’t do anything, someone just might.”

That was more than enough to get the Marshal’s full attention.

Julian gestured for him to come forward. Eden quietly moved aside.

Curtis walked in, already pulling something up on his terminal before pressing play.

They watched the screen.

Silence.

Then the Marshal squinted. ”What is this supposed to be? Some kind of threat?”

”I wish it were that simple,” Curtis muttered. ”That’s the House Kyros flagship. They arrived to support their heir. Apparently, he is taking a special licensure exam for mechanics.”

”That explains the flood of master mechanics on Nova,” Julian said, rubbing his brow.

Eden leaned forward. ”Huh? But I thought Luca Kyros was a pilot. Then what kind of licensure exam would require all these master’s? And even then, why would so many people show up? Even the hermits were here. It looked like a pilgrimage.”

”Exactly,” Julian replied. ”Go and ask the Royal Military Academy for a formal explanation. These things take months to plan, so why weren’t we informed?”

Curtis cleared his throat. ”Actually, I think I know why.”

He reached into his bag and carefully brought out a small, ornate box.

”This came in from the clearance bay. Sent directly by Duchess Amelia Kyros.”

Julian raised an eyebrow. Eden leaned in.

”The Duchess is requesting a reservation for airspace tomorrow. The guard said she claimed House Kyros intends to present an offer to the military that is of significant value.”

Julian nodded. ”And the item?”

Curtis held the box out as if it were ticking. ”Unknown. She said she would only provide the unlock code after direct confirmation that you, Marshal, are the one holding it.”

The room went quiet.

Julian looked at Eden. Eden looked at Curtis. Curtis looked like he regretted every choice that brought him here.

Finally, the Marshal reached over and turned off the surveillance feed.

”If this is how she wants to play it,” he said, ”then we better get her on the line.”

The connection stabilized. Greetings were exchanged — brief, polite, efficient.

Duchess Amelia, as always, did not waste time.

”I’ll be direct,” she said. ”This is a hasty request due to the last-minute nature of our son’s exam. If the military is interested in acquiring more of what’s inside the package, we would greatly appreciate your approval for an airspace reservation.”

Her tone was perfectly pleasant. Her smile? Practiced serenity.

Marshal Julian raised an eyebrow but gave her a small nod. ”You may give the code.”

She did.

Curtis keyed it in, and the moment the seal broke, a faint shimmer of spiritual energy escaped the box like a whisper. Julian, Eden, and Curtis all instinctively leaned in.

Inside was... a tin.

Small. Round. Innocent.

Julian carefully opened it.

And immediately furrowed his brow.

”What... is this?” he muttered.

Eden blinked. ”It looks like a... dried plant?”

Curtis leaned closer. ”No, wait. It’s crunchy. And green. Is it moss? It’s glowing a little.”

Julian picked one up with the caution of someone handling an unstable explosive.

The thing was crisp. Leaf-like. Slightly curled at the edges. And absolutely reeked of pure, concentrated spiritual energy.

”I don’t know what it is,” Eden said slowly, ”but I can feel it from here.”

”Same,” Curtis muttered, already reaching for the lid to reseal it.

Julian didn’t even argue. He snapped the tin shut and turned back to the screen.

”Duchess Amelia,” he said carefully. ”Are you saying... you’re offering the military a favorable deal... for airspace?”

The Duchess, calm as moonlight, replied, ”It is not just airspace. That is our support for our son. So yes. We are willing to offer a favorable deal for that gesture.”

Julian’s throat felt dry.

Whatever that tin contained, it was practically what they needed.

Duchess Amelia continued, ”Once the exam concludes, and should you find yourselves interested, we could arrange a proper meeting. Marshal Julian.”

He looked like he wanted to say something clever. Something commanding. Anything, really. But all that came out was a quiet sound of agreement.

He glanced at Curtis, then gave him a nod.

”Authorize the reservation,” he said, then cleared his throat and added, ”...but please, keep the support displays within reason. We don’t want to frighten the public.”

Duchess Amelia chuckled. ”We are of the same mind. Thank you, Marshal. I’ll see you soon.”

The call ended.

Julian slowly leaned back in his seat. He stared at the sealed tin as if it held the fate of the galaxy.

And in some strange way... maybe it did.

He exhaled.

”Eden.”

”Yes, Marshal?”

”Tell the Academy to reserve a few seats for us. I want to witness this exam. Personally.”

Which, frankly, was just within expectations for a certain duchy.

Meanwhile, aboard the battleship of House Kyros...

”If anybody missed the opportunity to sign the support banner, they better do it now before the file is sent over to the carrier blimp.”

It was just a reminder.

And yet, Duchess Amelia had a strong suspicion that no one had missed the opportunity. The moment she brought it up yesterday, the entire duchy leapt into action as though their lives depended on it.

After all, no one wanted to be left out of showing their actual support for the Young Lord.

Duchess Amelia still recalled how hard she had cringed earlier. But she also reminded herself very firmly that she had agreed to this for a reason.

When Master Quinn had first raised the idea of Luca undergoing the licensing exam, he had looked like a man trying to balance between recognition and safety.

He had concerns. Valid ones.

This was not just any test.

Obtaining a mechanic’s license this early, and without going through the usual path, meant placing Luca under the scrutiny of the mecha masters. Because the only way to have gotten it this early was to call forth their attention deliberately.

And mecha masters were not exactly known for their sense of restraint.

If anything, they had a reputation for being brilliant, wildly unpredictable, and completely incapable of remembering that secrecy and safety were important concepts.

Master Quinn had said it clearly. They were like hounds that had caught the scent of something valuable. Once they fixated on Luca, it would be impossible to redirect them.

And he was right.

After all, they do say that geniuses tend to be a little unhinged.

Calling their attention would be easy. Removing it once they had locked on was another matter entirely.

Especially because Luca would soon become the youngest licensed mechanic in recent history, even worse, he would likely outpace half the professionals in the Empire within the year. Months, even.

So yes, they had originally planned to reveal him gradually. To introduce him as a product of House Kyros’ investments and strategy.

That plan, however, unraveled in two days.

Because Luca just had to attract that much attention that fast.

And then Ollie, who had been present during the exam frenzy, shared an unexpected detail. People were speculating. Rumors were already circulating. Whispers said that Luca had been secretly nurtured by the duchy all along.

The earlier silence had worked in their favor. It allowed others to assume that Luca had received private training for years, fully supported by House Kyros.

Some even believed that the story about his unruly past had been a deliberate cover to hide his long-standing development.

If people already believed that, then perhaps it was time to lean into it.

After all, the Expo was drawing near. If they wanted to showcase their strength, there was no better time.

Naturally, Duchess Amelia gave herself the task of coming up with something that would generate attention in such a short period.

Only for Xavier to casually make a suggestion.

”?”

”Duchess Amelia. What about the fireworks we saw during our first visit to Planet Kyros?”

”...Huh?”

Fireworks?

Now, see, she had apparently been spared the traumatic display and only found out about how they welcomed Luca back into their home much later.

She had no words.

And Duchess Amelia nearly challenged her husband to a duel when she discovered that the outrageous fireworks display had actually outdone even the glowing-eyed statues he erected back at the Manor.

Had Luca been anyone else, someone not kind and good-hearted, he would have demanded emancipation. And frankly, she would not have blamed him because had she been in his place, she would’ve likely done the same.

But Luca, as always, endured it quietly.

Still, when they showed her one of the fireworks for demonstration, she had to admit that it was undeniably effective.

If they wanted attention, that display would certainly provide it. If they wanted people to believe Luca had been raised with overwhelming and unhinged support, it would deliver that impression effortlessly. In fact, they’d all start thinking that the members of House Kyros were crazed lunatics.

Well, they were, but not that bad.

That maybe with that kind of fanfare, they’ll think that it’s because he’s been raised with such support, it would be difficult for him not to grow up into someone incredible.

Hopefully, they wouldn’t immediately realize that all this time it’s really been Luca carrying the weight of the entire house on his back.

It was one thing to be accused of riding on nepotism, but quite another to single-handedly revive a crumbling house.

It was settled, but because Duchess Amelia didn’t want Luca to just have that insanity, she said they’ll have to do something else.

And so she ordered all those interested to produce a banner of the House where they could all sign short messages of encouragement and support.

”There would be no faces,” she nearly roared at her husband, whom she was sure was about to ask.

Sure enough, but instead just asked how much space they could use up.

”Just enough so that all of those who love him could fit.”