[EDWARD’S POV]

August 14, 1338

Instinctively, I swiveled in response to the unexpected voice, my gaze locking onto a young woman draped in a gown of elusive darkness, its hue concealed by the enveloping night. Cascading locks of golden hair framed her countenance, appearing to shimmer in the darkness, while her emerald eyes held a subtle luminescence that seemed to pierce through the night itself.

"Good Evening, Lady Vascalta," I greeted her in return, offering a gesture to join me amidst the verdant embrace of the garden by gently tapping the lush grass beside me.

A smile graced her lips as she gently remarked, "Drop the 'Lady', milord. I'm a commoner by birth."

"Birth seems to hold little sway in these times," I countered with a smile that struggled to mask my inner turmoil.

Her voice, a soft and reassuring melody, sought to alleviate the weight upon my shoulders as she said, "Things will find a way, somehow."

Shifting the conversation away from my concerns, I inquired about her well-being, remarking on the passage of time since our last meeting.

"Not much to tell, milord. Just pursuing what I'm skilled at. Music and song are my solace," she replied, her gaze fixed upon the moon, tonight in its crescent form.

"Sounds like a rather idyllic existence," I mused.

"Ah, it has its perks," she replied, a smile adorning her features that radiated all the way to her eyes. It was captivating. Upon closer observation, her gown revealed itself to be a shade of green, perhaps a hue reminiscent of the forest.

"I've heard about your upcoming coronation," she mentioned, her gaze fixated on the slender crescent moon.

"Yes," I responded softly, feeling the weight of the impending responsibility settle heavily on my young shoulders. The absence of my father, presumed dead, cast a long shadow over my thoughts. He was my anchor in this unfamiliar world, the one who had guided and comforted me. Now, I sat, waiting for a miracle that seemed increasingly elusive.

Vascalta's tranquil gaze shifted from the celestial crescent to meet mine. In those green depths, I perceived a silent comprehension that spoke volumes. "Power brings both honor and burden," she uttered, her voice carrying the weight of wisdom far beyond her years.

I nodded, feeling a rush of emotions I couldn’t articulate. "Sometimes, I wish for simpler days. To sing, to play, as you do. Freedom in melody."

"Your melodies may take a different form now, milord," she remarked gently, her fingers idly tracing patterns on the grass. "But they’ll echo in the halls of men and good alike, shaping the lives of many."

Yet, amidst the weight of impending duties, a different kind of tension danced between us, unspoken but palpable. As she spoke, her fingers brushed mine momentarily, a fleeting touch that ignited an unforeseen warmth within me. Was it merely the empathy of a friend, or something more profound?

"I find solace in the melodies you bring to life," I confessed, my voice soft, almost hesitant. "But tonight, your presence alone seems to bring a melody to my restless heart."

Vascalta's breath hitched, her verdant eyes revealing a fleeting vulnerability amidst the stoic facade she wore. "I am just doing what I must do for you as a friend in these hard times."

Caught off guard by her admission, I raised my gaze, the night's subtle hues framing her in a soft, ethereal light. "Friends?" I echoed, a hint of surprise coloring my voice. A flicker of amusement played across my features as I attempted to relax my expression, a chuckle escaping me. "Sure, if that's what you prefer, Vascalta."

The air crackled with a charged tension, an unspoken yearning that lingered between us, unclaimed and unexplored. Her gaze, a fleeting glimpse of a world unknown, held a depth that stirred something within me—a whisper of possibilities that dared not be spoken.

But then, a pang of realization struck me like a thunderbolt. My betrothal, an arrangement sealed in the traditions of the realm, loomed over me—a binding commitment that demanded allegiance, even amidst the tumultuous emotions stirring within.

The weight of my upcoming coronation, the weight of expectations, bore down on me, and amidst this swirl of emotions, a sense of duty—a sense of honor—resounded within me like an unyielding decree.

"I must go," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, an unspoken apology lingering in the air. With a fleeting glance filled with a myriad of unspoken emotions, I turned away, the weight of responsibilities anchoring me to the path laid out before me.

As I walked away, the echoes of our unspoken connection resonated within me—a haunting melody of a forbidden yearning, a sacrifice made in the name of duty. And amidst the moonlit garden, a lingering ache nestled in the depths of my heart, a yearning left unfulfilled in the name of obligations yet to be fulfilled.

—--------------

August 15, 1338

Clad in my formal attire, I set off for my warden's office, contemplating the imminent transition to becoming the Duke of East Anglia. Plans were underway to revamp this very office, expanding and modernizing it to suit my future needs. However, such renovations typically take nine to ten months, a timeframe that could be drastically reduced to less than two with the implementation of my cement-based technology.

My thoughts also veered toward the prospect of establishing a laboratory, assembling a team of researchers to enhance existing technologies. Yet, this endeavor would necessitate a fundamental understanding of chemistry, a realm sorely lacking in development during this era. Alchemy, the prevailing knowledge in the field, was, in my view, nothing more than a practice steeped in esotericism. While potent in the hands of the knowledgeable, I had yet to encounter an individual capable of crafting something truly extraordinary.

This predicament led me to a singular solution: procuring study materials from the system shop and disseminating copies among qualified individuals capable of ushering in advancements in this field.

This line of thought further solidifies my resolve to establish a university focused on higher education. Among the foremost universities of this time stand the University of Bologna, University of Oxford, University of Paris, and University of Salamanca. None of the existing institutions in this era can rival my wealth of knowledge—or rather, my access to it. While I could certainly write numerous books myself, the sheer volume of information at my fingertips is simply staggering.

My contemplation was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Enter."

A servant bowed respectfully upon opening the door and relayed, "Milord, the Court session is about to commence."

"I shall be there," I responded in a composed manner before he departed, closing the door behind him.

The Court session unfolded over a brief span, not extending beyond a couple of hours. The focal point of the proceedings involved a dispute between a commoner landowner and an impoverished knight concerning rent. The knight, unable to meet his rent obligations, found himself embroiled in a dire situation. Taking matters into his own hands, the landowner resorted to violating the knight's unmarried sister. The judgment rendered was unequivocal. The landowner was ordered to pay a fine of £100 and endure a fortnight's confinement in the deepest dungeon—a punishment that bordered on severe, considering the context. It's noteworthy that offenses of a sexual nature were not deemed as grave crimes during this period, and this penalty was relatively high primarily because the victim belonged to the nobility, albeit from the lower echelon.

Returning to my chambers, I sank onto the bed, mulling over my thoughts.

"Status," I murmured.

Status:

Name - Edward Plantagenet 

Age - 15

Title - Heir of Norfolk, Baron of Wymondham, Warden of East Anglia

Martial - 15

Diplomacy - 16

Intelligence - 29

Reputation - A-

Wealth - £295,139

Skills - Appraise (Lv. 15), Financial Literacy(Lv. 12), Oratory(Lv. 11), Alchemy(Lv. 3), Leadership(Lv. 10), Management (Lv. 8), Falconry (Lv. 8), Virtual Map (Lv. 6), Amplify (Lv. 4)

Level - 16 [1005/1600]

Spare Points - 3

Shop - 45 Pts

During these past six months, my skills have seen some growth. Alchemy, however, seems to be just taking up the space in my window. My martial prowess has improved by 2 points, reaching a level of 15, a match for the skills of the younger Regal Watch knights, who themselves are amongst the kingdom's best. 

Financially, there was a slight decline in wealth initially due to the construction expenses of the bank in the summer. But with new investments and the sale of cement, my wealth has once again exceeded its previous amount.

During my recent court visit, I took a moment to appraise the king's wealth, which stood at approximately £190,000. It struck me as a decline from the previous figures I had encountered. The slight decrease in the royal coffers seemed indicative of the strains imposed by the ongoing conflict, a grim reminder that war affects all strata of society, from aristocrats to peasants, imposing burdens on their pockets and livelihoods alike. The toll of warfare often extends far beyond the battlefield, leaving economic repercussions in its wake.

I rose from my seat, noticing the lingering daylight streaming through the window. A quick change into more flexible attire prepared me for the evening ahead. Descending to the royal training yard, I was met with a scene of bustling activity.

Soldiers filled the space, engrossed in duels or practicing maneuvers against hay puppets. Among them, a figure stood out—Walter Manny. While his name had been a constant presence in my ears over the past few years, it had been an extended period, perhaps four years or more, since I had encountered him in person. His reputation preceded him, and this rare opportunity prompted me to focus my attention solely on him, activating my 'Observation' ability to keenly scrutinize his actions.

Status:

Name - Walter Manny

Age - 28

Title - The Silver Knight, Admiral of the Northern Seas

Martial - 19

Diplomacy - 9

Intelligence - 10

Reputation - A

Wealth - £2,766

Skills - Fleur d'Acier Sword Style(Lv. 14), Leadership (Lv. 10), Battle Tactics (Lv. 12), Stealth (Lv. 9)

Level - 18 [911/1800]

Walking forward, I approached the training area where Sir Manny was diligently overseeing the drills of his soldiers. It had indeed been a considerable span of time since our last encounter—four years or more. As I neared him from behind, observing his leadership in action, I finally broke the silence.

"It's been a while, hasn't it, sir?" I called out, aiming to catch his attention.

Sir Manny, engrossed in the training, startled momentarily at the unexpected interruption. Slowly turning toward me, his expression shifted from surprise to recognition, a smile breaking across his face as he assessed me.

"Aye, milord," he acknowledged, his tone warm and welcoming. "And time has sculpted you into quite the man, I see," he remarked, his eyes holding a mix of familiarity and appraisal.

"As the old saying goes, time does indeed have its way with us," I replied, mirroring his smile.

Sir Manny's suggestion caught me off guard for a moment, his playful smirk hinting at a challenge beneath his words. "A duel, milord?" he proposed, his tone carrying a hint of jest and camaraderie.