CHAPTER 827: THE DIMWIT AND THE PRINCESS

Adam’s eyes darted between Desmond and Elliot before they shifted to Quintella. With a nod, he guided the boy with a soft hand on his back to the table. "I know you’re grateful, but you must convince someone if you want to call me big brother. Did I introduce you to my little sister?"

Wide-eyed, Elliot gasped as he stood behind Quintella. "The taming princess!"

"The what?" Adam crouched as Elliot leaned closer.

"The Pandarok," the boy whispered. "It was my target during Haldris’ class, but she jumped between us before I could try to capture its soul. I fled behind a tree and saw how she cheered the beast until it grew comfortable enough to sleep in her pocket."

"That explains the taming part. What about the princess?" Adam wrapped his hand around Elliot’s shoulders, lips twitching to stifle his building laughter.

"Because of you," Elliot simply answered.

"Me?" Adam pointed a surprised finger at his own face.

"Yes, you, big brother. You challenged Teacher Grimhilde’s sadistic strength on the first day to protect her. Who but a princess calls such devotion?"

Elliot’s face was so solemn when he answered that Adam face-palmed. Before he could correct the boy, a burning blush crept onto Elliot’s cheeks. "She’s also the most beautiful girl, at least as bright as the sun with her golden hair. And her smile..."

A shiver ran down his spine as Adam’s hand tightened slightly around his shoulders. "I mean... I shouldn’t talk about your sister, right?"

"You shouldn’t. You already did." Adam’s eyes narrowed into slits before he patted the boy’s back and chuckled, the pressure melting like morning mist. "Only a blind man would call her anything but beautiful. It’s alright, Elliot. You’re about her age—too young to let your mind wander into forbidden territories. What you can do, however, is become good friends, don’t you think?"

Elliot nodded like a hen offered royal pardon. "Good friends, big brother. I never had improper thoughts, I promise."

"Good." Adam pushed the boy toward the girls. "Hey, Quintella. Do you know Elliot?"

Bao growled from the scroll she sat on, and a furrow creased Quintella’s brow. "The dimwit?"

"Ouch. That’s a terrible start." Adam slapped the boy’s back, laughing. "Don’t trust gossip too much. He’s a good boy who wants to become your friend. You don’t have to force yourself, though. If you enjoy his company, let him join your friend circle. If you don’t..." He glanced at Elliot. "We tried, didn’t we? Alright." He rose from his crouching position, waving as he walked away. "Good luck."

He sat across from Desmond, close by, but even as he shared what had happened during Viktor’s class with the teenager, he listened to Quintella and Elliot’s discussion.

"Hum... good morning, Miss Quintella." Elliot twirled the edge of his robe with his finger, his burning face lowered, his voice cracking.

Quintella patted Bao’s head first, whispering. "Don’t worry, Bao. We’ll just talk with him because big brother asked us." Her gaze lingered on the boy before she patted the chair beside hers. As Elliot sat, she continued. "Why are the others calling you a dimwit?"

Elliot stumbled on his seat, almost dropping his small golem.

Sarah leaned forward, rolling her eyes. "Because he never thinks before answering the teacher. What was it during Diane’s class last year? Lizards could evolve into wyverns and cattle into celestial bulls."

"Is it wrong?" Quintella tilted her head. "I’m sure my brother told me about a super-strong magical cow."

"Before you went to bed, right? My mother used to tell me the moon was the sun’s husband and that we can’t see them together because of an old argument" Sarah got up from her seat with a shrug. "I’m heading to my next class. Don’t trust the dimwit’s stories too much. He always answers with the confidence of a child who has never opened an actual book."

Elliot placed his golem on the table, biting his lip, words refusing to come out. Sarah was right. Why did he always make a fool of himself...

The questions rang in the momentary silence before Quintella’s bright voice shattered it. "Whoa! What a cool statue! Did my brother help you sew the clothes? Mhh, mhh." She nodded, her eyes alight, and her smile like a crescent moon. "That’s definitely from him. Style above all!" She raised her fist in eager imitation of Adam.

Adam’s head slipped from the palm supporting it when he heard her.

Then, she chuckled. "My brother really loves crafting. You can’t be a dimwit if he worked with you."

Elliot blinked once, then twice, his face turning redder than the golem’s cloth. He waved his hand in front of his face, trying to cool the burning sensation prickling his skin. He let his tongue slip. "T-thank you, princess."

"Princess? Hahaha! You’re right." Quintella planted her hands on her hips. "I’m—"

BAM

Adam slammed his palm against the table, the sound interrupting her. She gazed at him, and, a finger pressed to his lips, he shook his head.

"Ah!" Quintella’s eyes widened for a heartbeat before she pointed at the golem. "Can you craft dolls, maybe enchanted dresses too?"

Elliot nodded with the solemnity of someone who had received an epic quest. "It’ll take some time, but I’ll prepare a surprise for you."

"I don’t want to know anything before I see it, then." Chuckling, she filled three plates with meat, then placed one in front of Bao and the boy. "Let’s eat before your next class."

Bao growled at Elliot, her narrowed eyes seeming to say: ’I know you tried to kill me. I’ll keep an eye on you.’

Until a student noticed the irregularity of the rankings.

"Fire and ash, guys! The new troublemaker sits on the twentieth rank!"

Another rushed to the wall, his eyes locking onto Elliot’s name. "Burn me, mate. Even the dimwit ranks fourth. Did I wake up in an alternative college?"

More students rushed to the wall, confirming the surreal news in suppressed gasps. As a trained army, they turned as one a moment later, half their gazes on Elliot, the other half on Adam.

"Hell, no." Adam’s pupils constricted as if a horde of predators that wanted to dissect him approached. Questions, sneers, accusations—he had better uses for his time than to indulge in their schadenfreude.

"Run, Desmond." He bolted out of the Common Hall without looking back, a prayer accompanying Elliot.