The academy revealed itself slowly as we approached the capital, rising behind its outer walls with an almost theatrical grandeur that made my stomach tighten. Even from a distance, it reminded me less of a place meant for learning and more of something designed to impress visitors who would only ever see it once. The architecture carried the same careful excess as the grand districts of Paris I remembered, elegant and ornamental to the point of feeling curated rather than lived in. Stone terraces layered upward in sweeping symmetry, with arched walkways and polished balustrades that framed the grounds like a permanent exhibition.
Wide gardens stretched between buildings, trimmed and sculpted with obsessive care, while fountains glittered in the morning light as if competing for attention. It was beautiful in a way that felt intentional, deliberate, and faintly artificial, like a theme park masquerading as an institution of higher learning.
I dismounted near the outer courtyard while my companion moved to do the same, his movements practiced and efficient as always.
When he pulled back his cloak, I expected dust or sweat from the road, not the sight that greeted me instead. Layer after layer of coarse barley sack material slid free from his uniform, stitched and wrapped carefully around his body like improvised armor.
I stared in disbelief as he continued, unfastening the layers with methodical precision. Beneath the sacks, his uniform was pristine, unwrinkled, and spotless, as though it had never been exposed to the world at all.
Then, to my dismounting horror, he reached into the folds of fabric beneath his arms and along his trousers, pulling out loose handfuls of pale cotton. It took me a moment to recognize it for what it was. Low-grade cotton from our fields, the kind that failed inspection and could not be sold, repurposed here as padding and protection. I stood there holding both horses by the reins, frozen in place as he worked.
"François," I finally said, unable to keep the shock from my voice, "what exactly is all of this?" He paused briefly, then continued folding the sacks with care.
"Your parents spent an unreasonable amount of effort securing my placement here," he replied calmly. "Even if my tuition is covered, the uniform is not something we can afford to replace."
I frowned, still watching him.
"But we could replace it if something happened," I argued, a little defensively. "We are not that poverish."
That was when he stopped entirely and looked at me. The expression on his face was not angry, but it was firm in a way that left no room for dismissal.
"My lady," he said quietly, "you have not seen the full extent of our finances."
He explained it then, without dramatics or self-pity, laying out the numbers as plainly as one would report the weather. We were operating at a deficit, sustained by careful planning and goodwill rather than abundance. If nothing changed, the county would fracture, and the people who trusted our family would be scattered.
"You are the future," he continued, voice steady. "You are the one we are sending forward to secure patrons, sponsors, and protection for our land."
I swallowed, feeling suddenly small beneath the weight of it.
"I grasp the gravity of our circumstances, François," I said, softer now. "I just thought that if it came to it, I could work in town, or help more directly." That was when his composure cracked. His jaw tightened, and for a brief moment, something like offense crossed his features.
"No," he said sharply. "The only work you are entitled to is the responsibility of your father's position."
I opened my mouth to argue, already listing the ways I had harvested wheat, picked fruit, and worked alongside the villagers without shame. Before I could finish, he raised a hand, stopping me.
"They would eat you alive," he said bluntly.
"You would be seen as easy prey, as someone who does not understand how cruel nobility can be."
The words settled heavily between us. When he framed it that way, I understood the fear beneath his insistence.
"I understand," I said finally. "I will be more mindful."
I hesitated, then added carefully, "But I want you to know that I do not see our people as beneath me, nor would I ever be ashamed of honest work."
That gave him pause.
For a moment, he simply studied me, as though reassessing something he thought he already understood.
"I know it," he said quietly at last. "That is why this matters."
The conversation ended there, not because we had resolved everything, but because we had reached a fragile understanding. I adjusted the strap of my bag and took a steadying breath before looking back at him.
"I wish you luck on your first day as a squire," I said sincerely, forcing a lighter tone into my voice. "And if any noble decides to cause trouble for you, I expect you to tell me immediately."
For a moment, his expression softened in a way that reminded me of every year we had grown up side by side. He glanced around us, then subtly shifted position so that the horses blocked the view of students passing through the South Gate. Only once we were partially obscured did he lift a hand and rest it briefly on the crown of my head.
"I am incredibly proud of you, my lady," he said quietly, his voice low and steady. "You will do well here, so long as you remember not to let your masculinity show around potential benefactors."
I snorted despite myself, but nodded all the same, understanding exactly what he meant. The gesture lingered with me even after his hand fell away, grounding and protective in equal measure. I thanked him, took my bag, and told him I could find my way from here.
That, in hindsight, was an incredibly poor decision. The academy grounds unfolded in a labyrinth of courtyards, corridors, and buildings whose names were engraved entirely in the French tongue. Departments, libraries, dining halls, and lecture wings were all labeled with elegant scripts that assumed familiarity. I understood the words perfectly, yet somehow managed to feel completely lost. I stopped at my third identical intersection and sighed quietly to myself. So much for being prepared. Somewhere within this sprawling monument to prestige, the story I remembered was beginning to stir. And I had already misplaced myself before even finding the entrance.