The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] Chapter 1171: Gatecrashers

Meanwhile, just moments before the blaring buzzer announced the start of the long-awaited three-day examination, an entirely different battle was already raging as people who weren’t even supposed to be there maneuvered, some quietly and others rather shamelessly, to push their own agendas.

Some wanted to fish for the possibility of licensing the as-yet-unrevealed mecha for future mass production.

Others hoped to secure the first commission should custom units ever become available.

Then more enterprising parents had instead set their sights on introducing their children to the other Mylor siblings, while a select few attempted to sow discord between House Kyros and House Mylor by comparing the Empire’s two young mechanics through carefully disguised compliments.

To say Marquise Mylor and Marquise Julienne had encountered formidable opponents would be an understatement.

The atmosphere honestly resembled those dreadful family reunions where distant relatives suddenly remembered how remarkable someone else’s child was the moment they realized there were benefits to be gained from saying so.

Truthfully, however, even this was putting it mildly, as it could’ve been far worse had they not made advance preparations.

Their decision to keep Minister Kordell, Ollie’s officially recognized father-in-law, conspicuously close had already managed to ward off a considerable number of foreign emissaries who’d originally planned to approach with absurdly favorable offers in hopes of poaching his son.

As if that would even work when none of those benefits would even come close to the benefits that thankfully insane Kyle had been offering to their admittedly deranged son. And all of that wasn’t even counting the miracle that was Luca Kyros.

But of course, none of those hopefuls could’ve known about that, so it was understandable.

Still, it was a good thing House Mylor had experienced all sorts of business negotiations over the years to expect this sort of commotion. Not only had they prepared layers of defenses beforehand, but more importantly, they’d also quietly warned Duke Leander about what was likely to happen.

Because sure enough...

The Duke’s ears twitched as he listened to one conversation after another, genuinely wondering why people had never spoken so enthusiastically about his own son to his face.

Someone laughed.

The sound grated against several people’s ears.

Marquis Osmond and Marquise Julienne, however, simply maintained their impeccably practiced smiles as another noble lady exclaimed,

"Oh my! I’d simply to know what it’s like raising a genius. You really must tell us everything! Perhaps we could continue this conversation over lunch?"

Before anyone else could respond, another parent hurriedly cut in, clearly unwilling to lose the opportunity.

"Well, I’d like to think I’ve always had an eye for talent! I’ve been saying that boy was special from the very beginning. See? I knew it! I absolutely knew it!"

To the Mylor couple, the compliments sounded about as sincere as counterfeit virtual currency.

Several of the very same people enthusiastically praising Ollie today had once questioned why he hadn’t yet distinguished himself the way his older siblings had.

However, quite as expected, someone else interpreted those words very differently.

Naturally, in the mind of Duke Leander, that child Ollie deserved every bit of praise he was receiving.

But...

Didn’t his precious son deserve the same?

Then why hadn’t these people crowded around them during Luca’s examination with equal enthusiasm?

Sure enough, Osmond had been right.

The thoroughly disgruntled Duke, who hadn’t taken the warning particularly seriously before, now firmly believed their destabilization tactic belonged on the official list of threats to public order.

It was disturbingly effective to the point that Duke Leander’s blood pressure had begun its steady ascent well before the examination had even started.

"..."

Beside him the entire time, Duchess Amelia, who could read even the smallest changes in her husband’s expression, silently concluded that accepting the Mylors’ earlier warning had absolutely been the correct decision.

Leander was normally an exceptionally reasonable man.

Right up until the conversation involved, alluded to, or even remotely related to their son, Luca.

Had they not been warned in advance, he likely would’ve found himself dragged into some trivial argument that a random opportunist would’ve happily blown completely out of proportion.

Then again, even with the warning, her husband still would’ve missed the real reason nobody had tried that particular brand of verbal sparring during Luca’s examination.

Because who, exactly, would’ve wanted to pick a fight with an unhinged war god?

A Duke with perpetually misty eyes, hovering around his son like an aggressively determined fly, was hardly someone any reasonable person would want to antagonize. Not when he could randomly snap and decide that the universe could actually do away with one less planet.

More importantly, Luca’s examination had benefited from one enormous advantage: the element of surprise.

At that point, not many truly understood just how extraordinary he was until after the fact.

So, with that experience to learn from, people had actually come rather prepared.

Especially since, unlike her husband, Leander, Marquis Mylor was known throughout the Empire as a level-headed businessman.

Surely he’d be easier to negotiate with.

Well, they weren’t entirely wrong.

But neither was Osmond the sort to entertain people who forced their way into the event only to begin conversations with remarks like,

"I heard this examination will last three whole days, unlike the Duke’s heir’s."

It sounded innocent enough.

If one ignored the inconvenient fact that everyone standing nearby had already overheard the same Countess earlier gossiping about Luca and Ollie, comparing the two as she tried to determine which young mechanic would prove the better investment.

As though either of those boys needed investments from the likes of her.

Surprisingly, before either Marquise Julienne or Marquis Osmond could respond, someone else beat them to it.

Kyle.

The examinee’s frequently discussed husband had just returned in time to hear the latter half of the conversation, but didn’t need any more to know this couldn’t have been good.

"Good day, Countess. It is a privilege to see one so richly favored by time."

He smiled pleasantly.

The greeting itself sounded perfectly respectful.

Marquise Evelyn, however, heard it for what it really was.

Truly, she had raised him well, fully equipped to contend against even the sturdiest witches.

"You’re quite right," Kyle continued smoothly. "All of us originally hoped the examination could be completed within two days."

He gave a thoughtful nod.

"Unfortunately, the master mechanics and students from various academies were rather insistent on extending it to three."

He paused briefly, making a point of looking each of them in the eye before continuing.

"You see, for some mysterious reason, tickets intended for mechanics keep finding their way into the hands of people who apparently have no intention of building anything."

Silence.

One would have to be all too stupid to miss the implication.

Several nobles who had eagerly secured seats intended for mechanics visibly stiffened because the youngest Nox wasn’t merely talking about attendance.

He was talking about them.

Though unbeknownst to the twitching gatecrashers, that wasn’t the only reason the examination had been extended.

In a way, they found that rather beneficial too. Of course, his mop had wanted to finish as soon as possible so he could be done with it forever. But they all knew it would be easier said than done.

So when the request finally came, following petition after petition from various legitimate institutions, they couldn’t help but feel privately grateful for the additional day. It would give Ollie ample opportunities to rest between sessions, recover his spiritual energy, and proceed at a more manageable pace.

And yes, while he’d only be building one mecha instead of Luca’s miraculous two, for someone of the blonde’s current spiritual rank, even that was already a death-defying undertaking worthy of being commemorated.

Thankfully, Ollie understood that better than anyone.

If anything, he was perhaps a little aware of his own limits. He’d never gamble with his life for the sake of pride, nor would he stubbornly push himself beyond what his body could endure.

Then again, that wasn’t to say Luca wouldn’t enthusiastically test those limits on his behalf.

So, all things considered, there was always room for his star’s self-improvement.

Which only made it all the more absurd to watch people who couldn’t accomplish even a fraction of what either Luca or Ollie routinely achieved insist on comparing the two, as though recognizing one person’s achievement somehow required diminishing the other’s.

Then again, what exactly could he expect from people like these?

Satisfied that he’d successfully silenced the more shameless opportunists, Kyle’s smile became just a little more professional.

"If you’ll excuse us," he said politely, "the examination will begin shortly. You may wish to return to your seats before you’re caught standing in the aisles."

The nobles, grateful to have been offered such a graceful opportunity to excuse themselves, awkwardly dispersed, each doing their utmost to leave as quickly as possible without appearing quite so eager to break into a sprint.

Kyle watched their retreating backs, his pleasant smile never quite reaching his eyes.

Privately...

He could only hope his older brother had managed to reach Owen before somebody else did.