Chapter 2: A villainous couple enrolls in the academy.

The Villain Baron under his Wife’s Thumb

Six months had passed.

Six months since Letitia and I happily became husband and wife. While we still felt like newlyweds, our married life looked something like this—

“Alban, this report, you’ve made a calculation mistake in the numbers again.”

“Eh, really?”

“I always tell you to pass the paperwork you’re not good at to me, don’t I?”

“Well, yeah, but you’re already helping with so much other work, Letitia…”

“Since I married into this house, it’s only natural that I do that much. Here, I’m done with my tasks, so send over the unfinished ones.”

“Then, this and this…”

“Yes, I’ve received them. Also, the room is getting messy. I’ll clean it up later, so hurry up and finish your work.”

“I’ll do my best…”

—I, the husband, was completely under Letitia’s thumb.

Seriously, my wife was too competent. Not only handling the paperwork, but she also revised the management of the Odrant Territory and actively listened to the voices of the people. Beyond that, she had recently started handling general household chores. She helped with the mansion’s cleaning, cooking, and laundry, and was particularly devoted to taking care of my personal needs.

As a result, her popularity with the maids was incredible.

“Work has gotten so much easier since Lady Letitia came!”

“Lady Letitia is a Duke’s daughter, yet she’s not haughty at all!”

“We’re so glad Lady Letitia married into the Odrant family!”

I heard comments like that every single day.

Man… Letitia is so much more capable than I am. She’s like a corporate power-woman. Lately, I’ve even felt like I, the head of the house, was fading into the background. I didn’t know whether to be happy or sad about it.

“You look rather glum, Lord Alban.” Sebas entered the room, having just missed Letitia. He had brewed some tea.

“Do I?”

“Yes, you have the expression of a man wondering, ‘Am I really the head of the Odrant house, or is it my wife?'”

“Stop hitting the nail on the head. It only complicates my feelings further…”

“Hahahaha, what a truly luxurious problem to have. …Although, this kind of life will only continue for a little while longer.”

“…You’re right.”

I turned sixteen last month. Letitia also had her birthday a bit earlier than me, so she was sixteen now.

A noble turning sixteen—

That meant it was time to enroll in the Royal Academy.

The Magdala Familia Royal Academy. It was a venerable institution that every noble in the Vahlrund Kingdom attended at some point. We would study academics, culture, martial arts, and magic here, gaining the refinement necessary for nobility.

Enrollment favored the nobility; anyone with a Barony or higher could easily gain entrance. While commoners were allowed to enroll, only a select few were admitted.

—On the surface, it seemed like a typical upper-class school, but in reality, it was a hyper-elite training ground. If one’s grades fell even slightly below the Academy’s standards, they would be immediately expelled, regardless of whether they were the eldest son of a Ducal house or a royal relative. Furthermore, the competition among students was fierce. The saying, ‘Talent knows no rank,’ was lived out there. It was famously described as “easy to enter, extremely difficult to graduate,” with some years seeing half of the incoming class expelled. As a result, many people considered a noble fully qualified only after they had completed the three years at the Royal Academy and received their graduation certificate. In short, graduating from the Royal Academy was a status symbol for nobles.

“Once you enroll in the Royal Academy, you will begin dormitory life in the Royal Capital. Although it is only for three years, I must say, I shall be lonely without the two of you.”

“Are you not considering the possibility of us being expelled and returning midway?” I asked.

“Impossible. I am already looking forward to seeing which of you will graduate at the top of the class.”

“That’s a lot of faith you have in us.”

“A butler must have faith in his master, after all.”

“Then I’m entrusting the Odrant Territory entirely to you for those three years. I’m counting on you, Sebas.”

“Rest assured, my Lord. …By the way,” he said.

“Hmm?”

“Regarding your enrollment, I have a piece of bad news to relay.”

“Bad news…?”

Huh, what? Bad news about my enrollment? What does that even mean? I’m not sure I want to hear this—

“It appears that several nobles have issued statements criticizing you, saying, ‘Alban Odrant is unsuitable for the Royal Academy.’“

“Huh? And why is that, exactly?”

“In addition to your previous bad reputation, framing Duke Mauro was likely the decisive factor. For your information, all those who issued statements were individuals connected to the Bertoli family.”

“…What a pain in the ass.”

—Currently, my public reputation was split in two. I had both defenders and critics.

One side saw me as: ‘The wise Lord who rescued Young Lady Letitia and brought Duke Mauro’s evil deeds to light.’

The other side saw me as: ‘The worst tyrant, just as the rumors claimed, who framed Duke Mauro out of spite.’

Those who knew of Duke Mauro’s outrageous behavior and the desolate state of the Bertoli territory tended to defend us. His Excellency Craon was one such example. While his old friendship with Sebas was certainly a factor, he had been an ally to us ever since that incident.

However, a segment of the nobility insisted that ‘a Baron conspiring against a Duke is inexcusable.’ They flaunted their power-centric ideology. These were the same people who were originally connected to the Bertoli family and had been profiting under Mauro.

Amusingly, these types were too afraid of incurring the Barrow Ducal family’s wrath to criticize Letitia, so they only directed their criticism at me. How ridiculous.

“Should I just ruin them all along with Mauro?” I mused.

“You must not, Lord Alban. Even His Excellency Craon would be unable to defend you then.”

“It’s a joke, a joke. So, what’s the result of these critical statements for me?”

“With the assistance of His Excellency Craon—the conclusion reached was a compromise: that you should take an examination.”

“An examination…?”

Normally, when a noble’s child enrolls in the Royal Academy, proving they are the child of a certain house is enough to wave them in. While a certain amount of money is usually necessary, traditionally, no kind of examination is held. The idea is that the noble bloodline, inherited from ancestors, is proof enough of their excellence. An entrance exam for a noble is something I’ve certainly never heard of.

“Yes. While the content is likely to be a mere formality, you should still exercise caution, just in case.”

“There’s no telling what kind of harassment these political enemies will try to pull, huh. “

Ugh, what a pain in the ass. Me being subjected to an exam is blatant discrimination.

—Well, whatever. I don’t know what kind of exam they have planned, but if they think they can fail this Alban Odrant, they can certainly try.