The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 548

Chapter 548: Support Like No Other

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.

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

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