The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 223

Chapter 223: Wealth

For a moment, Luca was stuck with the problem at hand but eventually realized that the people were waiting for him.

However, the skittish little animal didn’t know how to properly react.

As what was one supposed to do when faced with such a situation?

The sheer magnitude of the welcome left him utterly bewildered.

And the crowd’s expectant yet adoring gazes, coupled with the resounding chorus of their voices overwhelmed him just as much as the lingering evidence of the fireworks display affected his heart.

And that face.

His face.

Still haunted him as everywhere his eyes could dart at, there was likely an image or statue of him.

He felt the heat crawling up his neck as he looked over at the sea of bowed heads.

The people of the Duchy waited with bated breath, their expectations unseen, but their reverence was practically tangible.

But what was he supposed to do?

He never learned any sort of protocol,l as he thought they were just visiting!

Luca could feel his back sweating as his hands twitched slightly.

Should he say something?

Bow back?

Or was he expected to give a speech?

It was inevitable.

A small wave of panic bubbled in his heart because he did not want to disappoint the first crowd that ever welcomed him this way.

But as if sensing his distress, Xavier leaned slightly toward him.

"Thank them for the warm welcome." the Prince murmured, his voice a soft rumble, only meant for Luca’s ears even when it was likely for many people to be hearing this.

"Then tell them to rise."

Luca blinked.

He was initially startled by the guidance, but when he cast a quick glance at the clearly experienced Imperial Crown Prince, Xavier only nodded encouragingly.

It was apparently that simple.

Why hadn’t he thought of that?

But such was a belated thought for a person who only wanted to show his gratitude.

"Th—thank you," Luca stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

His hands fidgeted, but with Xavier’s subtle reassurance, he swallowed his nerves.

"Thank you all for the warm welcome. Please...please rise."

His words were meek, almost uncertain.

But they were spoken.

And that was enough.

For every word spoken by the heir they hadn’t heard speak in decades was enough to rouse emotions in their hearts.

The people of the Duchy obeyed with a collective movement, their faces brightening as they stood.

Some smiled warmly, and others clapped softly, careful not to disturb the moment.

And Luca let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

From the side, Duke Leander watched the scene unfold with something between confusion and pride.

He had been prepared to step in, ready to murmur the same words of guidance to his son. But instead, Luca had turned to him.

No, not him.

But to that pitiful wolf that earned the Duke’s darkened gaze, until he remembered how he should be thankful instead.

It’s just that it was difficult to watch for his precious son leaning on that guy instead.

Hmph. He pouted.

Though, Leander begrudgingly admitted that it wasn’t the worst choice.

Xavier had always been annoyingly sensible.

And even after all that had happened, he still chose to assist Luca.

If anything, it was thanks to him that they were able to have this celebration, as his good son had not been sent to the cold and heartless mines.

Perhaps, the Duke thought, increasing the number of planets he had earmarked as an apology and a thank-you gift for Xavier wasn’t a bad idea.

Five?

Ten?

A reverence that was only broken by D-29, who clearly pointed out something that even Luca had just realized.

"Host, it seems like the Duchy wasn’t having financial problems," prompted the little system before pausing.

"Or is this what it meant to be poor and struggling in the Empire?"

Luca was not sure.

Because wherever he looked, his heart went ba-dump.

It was like a dream for one little golden dragon.

But as one heir was fulfilling a dream he never even knew he had, somewhere in the depths of the manor, chaos simmered.

Or maybe, by now, it was more apt to say that it’s exploded.

"Blank plates!"

Head Maid Gloria clutched at her chest, her poor heart racing faster than it had in decades.

The grand dining hall was prepared—polished silverware gleamed, luxurious tablecloths cascaded over the pristine tables, and the chandeliers above were lit in resplendent glory.

But what good was any of that when there was nothing to serve?

"Have we truly sunk so low?!" she wailed, practically trembling.

"Are we to serve air for the main course? Will the Young Lord feast upon the finest silver with no morsel in sight?"

She sounded dramatic and, frankly, extremely livid.

But right now, she was right.

Which was why the maids could only nervously shift in place, with no one daring to meet her eye.

"We could... we could use nutrient solution," one brave soul suggested.

It was going to be the last-ditch method.

But even then, they were met with a horrified silence as they remembered the adorable Young Lord they had seen just earlier.

Was there even a choice?

There should be, right?

Maybe it was time to strangle Butler Gary, thought the Head maid, who started rolling up her sleeves.

It’s been a long time, but at times like this, nothing was impossible.