Surviving the Magic Academy With Just Intelligence Stats

A/N - The earlier chapter was uploaded by mistake but I've already fixed it, if you're still getting the wrong chapter, try clearing your cache.

The scene unfolding in the palace throne room bordered on comical. Princess Athena struggled to exit, her determined strides hampered by the full weight of the king hanging dramatically from her waist. His fingers clutched desperately at her training leathers as she dragged him across the polished marble floor.

"Please do your old man a favor," King Alexander pleaded, his dignified royal demeanor completely abandoned. His crown sat slightly askew as he clung to his daughter with the tenacity of a drowning man.

Athena's face remained a mask of irritation. "Let me go! I don't have time to guard some pretty boy," she declared, continuing her march toward the doorway with her royal burden in tow. Her sword clanked against her hip with each determined step.

The assembled courtiers, knights, and servants maintained a rigid silence, their gazes carefully averted from the undignified spectacle. Not a single soul dared intervene or comment on the king's behavior. The royal guards stood at attention, faces carefully neutral as they pretended not to witness their monarch's dramatic display.

"Don't you feel bad for this old man?" the king's voice shifted to a pathetic whine as tears began streaming down his cheeks. "I lost my wife, my sons are all obsessed with politics, my daughter doesn't want to bear me some grandchildren. I'm so pitiful!" His sobbing intensified as he buried his face against Athena's side, leaving wet streaks across her clothing.

The princess's shoulders slumped in defeat after enduring several minutes of this performance. Her expression shifted from irritation to disgust as she felt the dampness spreading on her garments.

"Fine, I'll do it," she conceded with a heavy sigh. "Just stop wiping snot on my clothes."

The transformation that followed was nothing short of miraculous. The previously sobbing king instantly released his grip, all traces of tears vanishing as he materialized back on his throne with remarkable speed and dignity. His crown perfectly aligned, his posture regal once more.

"Good," he declared with serene satisfaction, as though the previous undignified display had been merely a figment of imagination.

Athena stared at her father, hardly believing his shamelessness. To think the ruler of Avaloria would resort to crying in front of the court just to get his way. She consoled herself with the thought that she didn't have much to do anyway, so guarding some noble boy wouldn't be the worst assignment. Besides, he was the grandson of Celestia Lancaster, the legendary war goddess who had been Athena's idol since childhood. This might be an opportunity to see what the bloodline of her role model had produced.

Meanwhile, across the city, Ambrose's party found themselves experiencing treatment beyond anything they had previously encountered. Servants attended to their every need, merchants offered their finest wares without requesting payment, and citizens bowed respectfully as they passed. The mere association with the Rothschild heir had elevated them to near-royal status.

Sir Roland entered the room, his armor gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. "The king has accepted your request," he announced with a formal bow. "You'll be assigned a single guard, as requested."

Ambrose acknowledged this with a simple nod, his expression revealing nothing of his thoughts.

After a moment's hesitation, Sir Roland ventured further. "Would you like to meet the king?" The question was posed delicately, as the knight walked a careful diplomatic line. The king had expressed interest in meeting the Rothschild heir, but could not formally summon him without risking political complications. This informal invitation represented the perfect compromise.

"Not really!" Ambrose's immediate response nearly caused Sir Roland to lose his balance in shock.

Ambrose turned to his companions with casual indifference. "What about you guys? Anyone interested?"

Each of his party members shook their heads in turn, their reasons varying but their disinterest uniform.

Marcus had no desire to engage in what he perceived as noble posturing. His experiences had taught him that such formalities were merely elaborate performances that changed nothing of substance.

Meihua's expression suggested mild boredom. She had witnessed enough royal spectacles in the stories she knew to find little novelty in meeting yet another king.

Adelaide calculated the situation with her merchant's mind and found no profit to be gained from such an encounter. Her time would be better spent exploring the capital's markets and establishing potential business connections.

Hualing's reasoning was simplest of all—if Ambrose showed no interest, neither would she. Her priorities aligned perfectly with her master's.

Sir Roland struggled to conceal his bewilderment. In his younger days, an invitation to meet the king would have been considered the highest honor, eagerly accepted by nobles and commoners alike. He wondered if the monarchy's prestige had fallen off in the eyes of the younger generation. Have I reached unc status?

As the knight stood lost in his nostalgic musings, a sharp feminine voice cut through his thoughts.

"Where is that pretty boy?" The demanding tone echoed across the courtyard, drawing all eyes to its source.

…

In a dimly lit chamber, a dozen figures shrouded in identical black cloaks gathered around a large table. The stone walls were adorned with detailed maps of Lumina's capital and the royal palace, each marked with intricate annotations and potential entry points. Princess Athena's portrait hung prominently on the central wall, secured by a ceremonial dagger that pierced through her painted forehead—a target already chosen and studied.

The heavy oak door creaked open, and a figure distinctly different from the others entered. Unlike the uniform appearance of his subordinates, this newcomer wore an ornate rooster mask, its red and gold detailing catching what little light penetrated the room. His presence commanded immediate attention, the hushed conversations dying instantly.

Without a word, the rooster-masked figure withdrew something from within his cloak. With a flick of his wrist, a silver blur cut through the stale air. A dagger embedded itself into the wall with a decisive thud, pinning a new portrait beside Athena's—the unmistakable face of Ambrose Rothschild, heir to the northern dukedom.

The rooster-masked figure's voice rasped through the chamber, cold and authoritative: "Change of plans."