Royal Capital Magic Academy.
Southern District Laboratory.
Simmons, his hair already streaked with white, walked in and, as usual, headed straight to the storage area to check whether any of the experimental materials needed recently were running low.
After a glance, he suddenly frowned and shouted, "Marjorie! I told you two days ago to notify the Procurement Department and restock the Nether Orchid. Why hasn't it been replenished yet!?"
A middle-aged teaching assistant hurried in. Seeing the mere dozen or so Nether Orchid plants left in storage, he replied helplessly:
"Professor Simmons, you may not know this, but the Nether Orchid belongs to His Highness Ron, the Seventh Prince. Aside from the batch provided earlier by Emperor André III and the 100 plants gifted by His Highness Ron, we've had no other supply channel."
"What do you mean?" Simmons glared. "Wasn't it all over the place that His Highness Ron was returning to the Royal Capital? What, did someone take him out halfway here?"
"Uh…" Marjorie broke into a cold sweat. Professor Simmons had the status to speak so bluntly; he certainly did not.
"It's like this—His Highness Ron has already arrived in the Royal Capital. He originally wanted to buy a shop and open a flower store, but every shop he set his sights on was purchased in advance by someone else."
"Because of that, His Highness Ron has simply stopped trying to open the shop. He spends his days fishing at Lake Impash. When our people approached him, he refused to sell anything. There's nothing we can do…"
Simmons frowned even deeper. "What exactly is going on? Explain it clearly. The Royal Capital is this big—how can he not buy a single shop?"
"Well…" Marjorie hesitated before finally lowering his voice. "There are many forces involved behind the scenes. I only heard this secondhand—Professor, just take it as a rumor…"
"Stop the nonsense!"
"Yes, yes…" Marjorie wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"The situation is roughly this—"
"Because His Highness Ron is a Chosen One, he's been targeted by two other churches. Other forces covet the plants from his flower shop, so they've been fanning the flames behind the scenes, trying to force His Highness Ron to give in and hand over control of the shop."
"Of course, His Highness Ron refused. So he's decided to go all in—he simply won't open the shop. He's locked in a stalemate with them. No matter who goes to discuss business or cooperation, they're flatly rejected."
"Even people like us, who only want to purchase Nether Orchids, were turned away. He said he won't sell any plants until the flower shop is officially open."
"So now both sides are stuck. There's nothing we can do…"
The more Simmons listened, the more furious he became.
He glanced at the meager number of Nether Orchids in storage and felt his anger surge.
"What kind of damn mess is this!"
"Do those people even know how important the Nether Orchid is? Those idiots in Disod have already developed a new meditation potion! We're just getting started here!"
"And the Crimson-Gold Chrysanthemum!"
"That's an exceptionally effective stabilizing agent!"
"If we could get them in bulk, how many stalled experiments in this lab could finally move forward!"
"Damn those parasites who do nothing but harm the nation!"
The angrier Simmons grew, the louder he became. Finally, he slammed the storage door shut with a bang and strode straight out of the laboratory.
"Professor! Where are you going!?"
"Where else? To see the Dean!"
"If that old man won't step in, I'll personally go and petition Emperor André III!"
…
Royal Capital First Military Academy.
Principal's Office.
Felton sat behind his desk, fingers tapping lightly on the surface as his gaze swept over a list.
"Have you investigated everything?"
"Yes." A director of the academy, dressed in a crisp military uniform, replied, "Posting assassination tasks through underground organizations, spreading rumors around the Royal Capital, maliciously snapping up shop properties—though they're mostly insignificant figures, they're more than enough to serve as a warning."
"And the others?" Felton asked. "How many people have tried to make contact with His Highness Ron these past few days? Draw up a list of those as well."
"As for the forces stirring things up behind the scenes—though we may not have concrete evidence this time, we can at least start a file on them."
"For cadets within the academy connected to those forces, put their Outstanding Evaluation quotas on hold this semester."
The director hesitated. "Wouldn't that be… inappropriate? That would affect more than half of the cadets…"
"Confirm the Outstanding Evaluation spots first for those with no ties to those forces. As for the rest, just say they're all too exceptional and require further review," Felton said, glancing at him. "Isn't that your specialty?"
"Ahem… Understood." The director coughed awkwardly. "And regarding His Highness Ron…"
"He has the information channels of the Goddess of Harvest — Hervesta. He'll know about our moves," Felton chuckled. "Those 100 Crimson-Gold Chrysanthemums were his gesture of goodwill. We should show a little sincerity in return."
"After handling the matters on that list, we'll observe His Highness Ron's response. If it's satisfactory, we can go a bit further."
"Should we prepare anything specific?" the director asked.
"No need." Felton stood up, took his military overcoat from the rack, and put it on. "I'll pay a visit to that old fellow at the neighboring Royal Capital Magic Academy and sound him out."
"This matter no longer concerns just the forces behind the scenes. The military has been watching as well."
"If that old fellow shares my view, then once His Highness Ron gives feedback, we might as well rope in our superiors."
"The northern winter war is about to end. The military will soon have the spare capacity to deal with this."
"If we can escalate this to the level of harming the nation, what we gain won't be limited to benefits from His Highness Ron."
"Those who are currently lounging around instead of doing their jobs will all have to cough up a piece of flesh."
The director felt a chill in his heart. Under the principal's orders, he immediately set about preparing the next moves.
When the Royal Capital Magic Academy and the Royal Capital First Military Academy moved at the same time, the force they unleashed far exceeded what ordinary people could imagine.
As the primary reserve of combat power for the military, both academies, upon receiving Ron's gesture of goodwill, immediately acted in ways most advantageous to themselves.
They willingly swallowed the bait Ron had cast.
Meanwhile, the forces waiting for Ron to buckle under pressure and make a choice continued extending their tentacles, probing his bottom line.
Seated inside a Soven carriage, Ron gazed at the gloomy sky outside the window. Ignoring the coquettish laughter of the noble young lady sitting in Soven's lap across from him, he quietly waited for the light of dawn.