The next day was the Reading Festival, and Jenkins woke promptly at seven in the morning. A single man shares his bed with no one—except, of course, his cat.
Still in his pajamas, he stepped outside to fetch the newspaper and milk, cheerfully greeting a neighbor who was on their way to work. After making so fried eggs in the kitchen for breakfast, his quiet day finally began.
Noland First Higher Academy was located on the west bank of the Westminster River. As his carriage crossed the bridge, Jenkins watched the city slowly awaken and the people hurrying along the riverbanks, and couldn't help but marvel at his good fortune in this life.
With the rise of the bourgeoisie and the rapid developnt of the steam industry, society's demand for science and technology grew ever higher, as did the need for skilled technical professionals. The impact of educational reforms brought new changes to the traditionally cloistered universities.
In the past decade, Nolan City had seen at least three universities established that were still operating today. For instance, St. Pascatini Academy, which Hathaway and Miss Mikhail attended, was a newly founded private college for the nobility. In contrast, Noland First Higher Academy, where Professor Burns taught, was one of the oldest institutions of higher learning, its founding nearly concurrent with that of the Kingdom itself.
Universities in this era did not allow outsiders to enter and exit freely, so the professor had arranged for a student to et Jenkins at the academy's gate. He was a young man with a face full of freckles and buck teeth. The fingertips of his right hand were stained with dark blue ink, but his clothes were quite respectable, suggesting he ca from a well-to-do family.
After staring at Jenkins's face for a long mont, the elderly gatekeeper slowly turned an iron wheel from inside. With the faint clash of gears, the barred gate gradually swung open.
From the mont he t Jenkins, the young student hadn't stopped asking about the story collection; he was clearly a fan. However, his questions weren't about the plot, but rather about more significant topics like artistic style and social aning. If Jenkins hadn't known Professor Burns taught history, he would have assud the young man was a student of literature or sociology.
Noland First Higher Academy had not declined with the passage of ti; on the contrary, it had grown even stronger. Taking advantage of the recent wave of educational reforms from the Kingdom's education departnt, it had purchased an entire adjacent block, expanding the campus once again. Although it couldn't compare to the other university town in size, it was far more self-contained.
Although today was an important religious festival for so believers, it was not a public holiday. At just past eight o'clock, the academy was already bustling with its usual studies and work. As Jenkins followed the young student, Carlson, he felt as though everyone was staring at him.
"I'm sorry, am I not dressed appropriately?"
He asked softly. Carlson quickly shook his head.
"Please, don't misunderstand, Mr. Williams. It's because you look so young. The other students probably mistake you for a new arrival..."
Indeed, despite the academy's vast grounds, the number of students who lived there year-round was less than a thousand.
Jenkins had also brought Chocolate along. The cat had been furious about being left ho alone last night and would have absolutely refused to allow it again today.
"...Augustus, Odin, Beric, Bruce..."
When he saw the professor, he was wearing a brown woolen shirt and lecturing in a large classroom. Below the lectern, a sparse group of so twenty students were diligently taking notes.
Upon seeing Jenkins arrive, the professor continued his lecture without pause. He simply tugged on a hemp rope that dangled beside the blackboard. With a whir of chanics, the board slowly descended, bringing a section that had been intentionally left blank down to the professor's level, ready for him to write.
As it moved, the professor gave an almost imperceptible nod, and Jenkins nodded back in response. He then entered through the back door and sat in the last row to wait for the class to end.
The blackboard was quite fascinating. Judging by the sound, it was another successful application of gear-based chanics. The rope was connected to levers and pulleys, and pulling it moved the blackboard—a truly clever design.
The book the professor was using for his lecture today was the 'Chronicles of the Kingdom,' the most orthodox modern history textbook. The day's lesson was about the rebellion of five border dukes four hundred years ago. The surnas Jenkins had just heard were the family nas of those five dukes.
Four hundred years ago, the kingdom had just seen two successive queens and was at a point where the direct heir had died, leaving the throne vacant. The current situation was quite similar, as both the previous and current monarchs were won, and neither had a direct heir.
If his assessnt was correct, the most likely person to inherit the throne was a thirty-year-old nobleman with a tenuous connection to the royal bloodline. He was not a noble of the Fidektri Kingdom, but of the Cheslan Kingdom.
However, according to the royal laws of succession, the throne should indeed belong to him.
None of this had much to do with Jenkins; he was just letting his mind wander. As for the duke with the surna 'Augustus' from four hundred years ago, he was the ancestor of Viscount Augustus—a fact Jenkins had heard from Papa Oliver.
Professor Burns was teaching a large lecture, which didn't end until ten o'clock. Jenkins had assud that after class, the professor would introduce him to his own group of students, but a crowd had already gathered outside the classroom.
Professor Burns had just dismissed the class and hadn't even put down his chalk when he was sward by students rushing in from the doorway.
Needless to say, they had surely gotten wind that the great author, Mr. Williams, was there and had co to et him. Fortunately, Carlson, who had led Jenkins in, noticed the situation was getting out of hand. While Professor Burns was trapped by the crowd, he quickly ushered Jenkins out the back door, avoiding an even greater commotion.
In the end, the eting was held in a conference room on the second floor of the school's archives. Besides the professor's students, five or six other well-inford young people were also present.
There were about thirty people in total. Drinks and snacks had been prepared in advance, served in simple wooden dishes, giving the gathering a party-like atmosphere. An enthusiastic student had even dragged in a blackboard and written Jenkins's na on it, clearly stating the the of the event.
The young people were in high spirits. In addition to asking for details about his story collection, they also inquired about his plans for his next book. Jenkins revealed a few minor, unimportant details, which sent them into a state of excitent.
But he had things to do that afternoon and couldn't linger for too long. After signing so books and chatting for a bit, he had to take his leave.
"They were certainly enthusiastic."
The professor walked Jenkins to the school gate. The two of them briskly rounded a flowerbed, and the main gate was just ahead.
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