Richard remembered the passage from Virgil that Philips had told him about in the Imperial University Library.
"Since moving forward is risky, retreating is risky, and even pacing in place is risky... you have to take a step in some direction."
"It might not be safe inside, but the thing he wants is only in there."
In truth, those words were a reflection of his own thoughts.
Professor Mortimer held his cup of tea and studied Richard for a long moment.
"...Hmph." The old man grunted. "You’re a good kid, you really are."
Montague sized up the young man before him again.
Catherine, clutching her books, said nothing. Her expression was hidden beneath her red hair.
Professor Macphie also smiled. "Old Mo, you didn’t waste your ink on that letter."
"When have I ever wasted my ink?" Mortimer sipped his tea.
"In the year 1872 of the New Calendar," Macphie said with a booming laugh.
"You wrote a letter for a young man who then made off with several rare and ancient books from the library’s third floor.
Including that copy of the *Seven Chapters of Wind*, which still hasn’t been returned."
Professor Mortimer’s hand, holding the teacup, paused.
"...That was an accident."
"So many sole-surviving copies were an accident, too?"
"That kid didn’t take the common path." The old man set down his teacup. "That’s why he later became an Expert."
As Richard listened, he felt the story sounded a bit familiar.
"This time is different." Mortimer pointed at Richard. "This kid is steady."
For the next while, the two professors asked a few more questions about their studies.
Montague’s answers were thorough and flawless; Catherine’s were crisp and direct; Richard’s were calm and unhurried.
Finally, Professor Macphie performed some kind of Technique, inscribing a small scroll of parchment.
He walked over to Catherine and handed her the parchment scroll.
"This is for you."
Catherine seemed unsure whether she should accept it. "Professor, this is..."
"It’s a Rubbing Copy of the standing stones near the ancient battlefields in the northern Highlands."
Macphie explained:
"I took these down when I was on a field assignment with your great-grandfather back when I was young."
"You’re from the Blackwood family, and you’re in this line of work."
"This is a perfect fit for you."
Catherine took the parchment scroll, holding it in her hands for a long time without speaking.
Her father hadn’t left much behind, and from her great-grandfather, there was nothing at all.
"...Thank you, Professor."
Macphie waved his large hand dismissively.
"It’s not easy for kids from the Highlands out here."
"From now on, if you run into any trouble you can’t handle in the Imperial Capital, you can come find me in my office."
Catherine nodded emphatically.
Richard and Montague also took their leave.
Stepping out of the lecture hall, the daylight made him squint.
The cloister was empty; there was hardly anyone around during the summer holiday.
Richard walked along the stone tiles of the covered walkway, heading outside.
A figure was squatting by the stone railing at a corner of the cloister.
Philips.
The guy had procured a pot of tea from somewhere and was sunning himself by the railing.
"Yo." He looked up, saw Richard, and shook the teapot. "Finished with your Q&A?"
"Finished."
"What did those two old professors ask you?"
"About my reading." Richard sat down on the stone railing next to him. "They asked some very deep questions."
Philips poured his tea-drinking companion a cup.
"What’d I tell you?" he said smugly.
"When it comes to reading, you guys are all wound up as tight as bowstrings. I’m the one who really knows how to savor it."
Richard sipped his tea.
It was still good tea. This guy’s talents were never the academic sort.
"Oh, right." Philips suddenly remembered something.
"I made a note of that distillery Professor Macphie mentioned. After the seminar’s over, I’ll have someone buy a bottle for me.
We can try it together then and see if it’s really as amazing as he said."
"Are you of age?"
"I’m eighteen." Philips blinked. "My birthday was just last month."
"...I’m not, but I can join you for a drink then if you want."
Richard leaned against the stone railing, gazing at the June sky over the Imperial Capital.
The sky in the Imperial Capital was clearer than in Brighton, a clear sign of some environmental management.
He finished the tea in his cup and stood up.
"Let’s go. We have class this afternoon."
"What’s the rush?" Philips leaned back against the railing. "I haven’t finished my tea yet."
.........
「On Friday, the special class had its last official lesson.」
Croft finished lecturing on the final topic in the folklore branch: the "Skin-Changing Wizards" of a small island in the Spice Islands.
When he was done, he placed the chalk back under the lectern.
"That’s all for today." He swept his gaze over the class. "The assessment is scheduled for next Monday at 8:30 in the morning."
"Four parts: Classical Languages, Epigraphy, History, and Folklore."
"The supplementary materials I handed out to each of you two weeks ago."
"Those of you who finished them should know where you stand."
He glanced at the few students who had clearly been slacking off and gave a malicious smile.
"As for those who didn’t do them, heh heh heh..."
Old Ke left the words hanging there and started gathering his lecture notes.
"Class dismissed. Hurry back and prepare for the exam."
After packing up, Richard glanced in Philips’ direction.
The guy was letting Croft’s words go in one ear and out the other, holding his teapot and chatting happily with a classmate next to him.
On the day of the assessment, Richard arrived at the examination hall half an hour early.
He was in a calm state of mind and hadn’t even bothered to look over the supplementary materials much.
The exams were being held in a dedicated testing building in the Classics Department.
Because there were very few students taking the exam, each candidate had their own small, partitioned room. Monitoring Techniques were in place, and supervision was extremely strict.
Richard’s room was at the very end of the third floor.
The moment he pushed the door open, he saw a stack of blank paper and four exam papers on the desk.
The proctor nodded at him.
"Mr. Williams."
"The assessment will last a total of four hours. You are allowed one ten-minute break."
"Understood."
Richard sat down.
The first part was Classical Languages.
He opened the paper. One of the questions was a translation passage from Thucydides.
The original text was Kleion’s speech from the Mitilini debate in Book Three of the *History of the Peloponnesian War*.
It was the same passage Croft had thrown at him the other day.
Richard’s pen flew across the paper.
The second part was Epigraphy.
There was a question on the three-stage structure of a Celtic Seal.
This was Professor Macphie’s handiwork.
He had personally struggled through the text of the Whitcomb Boundary Stone, and later his aunt had given him specialized training on the topic.
In addition, the custom-made materials had happened to include a question from the same source, which he had practiced over and over again.
The third part was History, and the fourth was Folklore.
After each part of the exam, Richard felt like he had done similar questions before.
He now completely understood the purpose of those custom-made materials.
The assessment questions hadn’t been created on the spot.
What was taught in class was the skeleton.
The custom materials were the final step, adding flesh to the bones.
Those who had attended the lectures and worked through the materials question by question would now be writing as if divinely inspired.
As for those who had attended the lectures but tossed the materials aside...
Richard didn’t dwell on it and continued answering the questions.
He finished all four exam papers quickly.
He didn’t use up the full four hours.
He didn’t even take the ten-minute break he was allowed.
When he walked out of the examination hall, a few other students were still desperately holding on in their rooms.

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