Forbidden Desires: Conquering Kingdoms And Women In a Fantasy World!

The morning sun cast long shadows through the ornate windows of the Ashford manor as I prepared for the second day at Erestia Academy. The events of yesterday with Liliana still lingered in my mind. Yet today demanded my full attention, for I had a delicate performance to maintain.

As I straightened my academy uniform in the mirror, I caught sight of my reflection and allowed myself a moment of honest assessment. The careful balance I was striking—student, servant, bodyguard, and secret manipulator—required constant vigilance. One misstep could unravel everything I'd worked toward.

A soft knock interrupted my thoughts. "Harold? Father says the carriage is ready," Alicia's voice drifted through the door.

"Coming, my lady," I replied, slipping effortlessly back into my role.

The carriage ride to the academy proved more challenging than I'd anticipated. Alicia sat across from me, her hands folded primly in her lap, but I could feel the weight of unasked questions pressing against the morning air like storm clouds gathering on the horizon. She kept stealing glances at me, opening her mouth as if to speak, then closing it again with a soft sigh.

The rhythmic clatter of wheels on cobblestone filled the silence, punctuated only by the occasional call of street vendors as we passed through the more commercial districts. I watched the familiar sights roll by—the baker with flour-dusted aprons hanging his daily bread sign, children chasing hoops with sticks, merchants arranging their wares—all while feeling Alicia's curiosity like a persistent itch I couldn't scratch.

"The weather is pleasant today," she ventured finally, her voice carefully neutral.

"Indeed it is, my lady. Perfect for learning." I kept my tone equally measured, though inwardly I braced myself. Small talk about weather was rarely just about weather, especially not from someone as transparent as Alicia.

She nodded, then fell silent again, but I could practically hear the gears turning in her mind. Her father, Viscount Lindow, had accepted my brief explanation about visiting a childhood friend the previous day. The man respected Isadora enough to grant me certain liberties, understanding that a young man needed connections beyond the walls of his manor. But Alicia? She possessed the dangerous combination of genuine concern and feminine intuition.

"Harold," she said at last, her voice barely above a whisper. There was something vulnerable in the way she spoke my name, as if testing its weight on her tongue.

"Yes, my lady?"

"About your childhood friend..." She paused, color rising in her cheeks. "The one you went to see yesterday."

"Rumia, yes. What about her?"

"You said you were friends..." The words seemed to cost her something, and I realized with satisfaction that my suspicions were correct.

Alicia was developing feelings for me—feelings that could either serve my purposes perfectly or complicate them beyond measure.

I chose my words carefully, weighing each one like a merchant calculating the value of precious stones. "Yes, we're close friends. I told you we've known each other since we were children—more than thirteen years now."

"Thirteen years..." She breathed, and something in her expression shifted. Was that relief? Disappointment? Perhaps both.

The carriage hit a small pothole, jostling us both, and I used the moment to lean forward slightly, adopting the earnest expression I'd perfected over years of careful practice. "She's a good person, Alicia. Kind-hearted and genuine. I think you'd like her very much."

The smile that bloomed across her face was like sunlight breaking through clouds. "Really? You think so?"

"I'm certain of it." The lie came easily, wrapped in enough truth to make it convincing. Rumia was indeed remarkable, but the nature of our relationship was far more complicated than mere friendship. Still, for now, Alicia needed to believe in simplicity.

As we approached the academy, the familiar sight of Erestia's towering spires and ivy-covered walls came into view. Today, unlike yesterday, the grounds buzzed with activity. Students of all years moved about in purposeful clusters—first-years like ourselves still wide-eyed and somewhat lost, second-years beginning to show the confidence that came with familiarity, third-years carrying themselves with the assured stride of those who'd found their place, and fourth-years wearing the slightly world-weary expression of those already looking toward graduation and the responsibilities that awaited beyond these walls.

The carriage rolled to a stop near the main entrance, and I stepped out first, offering my hand to help Alicia descend. Her fingers were warm and slightly trembling as they briefly clasped mine—whether from nerves about the day ahead or something else entirely, I couldn't say.

"Harold!"

I turned at the familiar voice, spotting Rumia approaching with her usual confident stride. Regina and Lucy flanked her on either side, creating a small formation that reminded me absurdly of a military unit. Rumia had always possessed natural leadership qualities, the kind that drew others into her orbit without conscious effort.

"Did you wait for me?" I asked, genuinely curious. It would be unlike Rumia to loiter at the academy entrance without purpose.

Lucy's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Wait, is that why we've been standing here for fifteen minutes? Because of Harold?"

I caught the slight flush that crept up Rumia's neck before she quickly composed herself. "I wanted to meet Alicia properly," she said, her voice steady despite the telltale signs of embarrassment. "Harold mentioned her yesterday."

Good. Even in her momentary fluster, she remembered the importance of maintaining our careful façade.

"Me?" Alicia's voice climbed an octave, surprise evident in every syllable.

Well, it was my request to her to befriend Rumia, I did it while she was busy sucking my cock in the carriage so she could hardly say no.

"Of course!" Rumia's recovery was masterful, her smile bright and welcoming. "Harold spoke so highly of you. I've been curious to get to know you better." Without waiting for a response, she reached out and gently grasped Alicia's wrist. "Come on, let's walk together."

"But... Harold?" Alicia looked back at me with something approaching panic in her eyes.

I chuckled at her. "She won't bite, I promise. Go ahead and get acquainted."

After a moment's hesitation, Alicia nodded and allowed herself to be drawn forward by Rumia's infectious enthusiasm. Regina and Lucy fell into step beside them, and I watched as the four girls began their slow progression toward the academy's main building.

This was perfect, actually. Better than I had dared hope. Alicia needed to develop independence, to form connections that didn't revolve entirely around me. It would serve multiple purposes—giving me the freedom to maneuver without constantly shepherding her, while also building her confidence and social skills.

On the other hand Rumia as I had requested, she kept a careful distance and I her tone while speaking.

It would have to continue until I break her engagement.

Breaking their engagement would require careful planning and perfect timing. I needed to thoroughly discredit the Sevrin family, but it had to appear natural, inevitable even. A scandal that seemed to emerge from their own actions rather than external manipulation.

But that was a problem for another day. For now, I was content to watch as Rumia worked her particular brand of magic on Alicia. Despite the complicated web of deception I was weaving, I found myself genuinely hoping the two would become friends. Alicia deserved at least one relationship in her life that was built on something approaching honesty.

The morning bell chimed across the academy grounds, its bronze voice calling students to their first classes. I quickened my pace, falling into step behind the girls while maintaining the appropriate distance for a servant.

The first-year building stood apart from the main academy complex.

Students flowed through the corridors like tributaries converging into a river, their chatter creating a low hum of anticipation. Some clutched their schedules with white-knuckled determination, others moved with the casual confidence of those who had already memorized their routes. I fell somewhere in between, outwardly calm but inwardly calculating each step toward my morning destination.

Herbology. Professor Elara Vance.

The memory of our brief encounter a day ago flickered through my mind like candlelight—her striking features, the way intelligence sparkled in her emerald eyes, the confident manner in which she carried herself. And more importantly her kindness?

But beyond her obvious beauty lay something far more valuable: knowledge. Deep, comprehensive understanding of botanical arts that could prove invaluable to my long-term plans. My mother, Isabella, had been renowned throughout the village for her healing abilities and herbal expertise. Under her, I had absorbed years of practical knowledge about plants, their properties, their applications, and their potential.

The irony wasn't lost on me that while other noble children had spent their youth learning swordplay and etiquette, I—supposedly just a commoner's son—had received an education in the healing arts that surpassed what most practitioners learned in a lifetime. Mother had insisted that knowledge was the one treasure that could never be stolen, never lost, never devalued by the whims of politics or fortune.

As we approached the herbology classroom, I caught sight of Rumia guiding Alicia toward a cluster of seats in the middle rows. Perfect. I had specifically asked Rumia to keep Alicia occupied during classes, not out of callousness, but out of necessity. Alicia's natural inclination to seek my approval and guidance, while flattering, would hinder both her personal growth.

"I'll see you after class," I murmured to Alicia as she passed, offering her an encouraging smile.

She nodded, though I caught the brief flicker of uncertainty in her eyes before Rumia's animated conversation drew her attention away. Regina and Lucy flanked them like friendly sentinels, and I felt a genuine surge of gratitude toward the trio. Whatever else happened, at least Alicia would have the chance to form authentic friendships.

With that concern settled, I turned my attention to more pressing matters. The front row beckoned—not just for the optimal view it would provide of the beautiful teacher Elara, but for the strategic advantage it offered. In my experience, teachers noticed front-row students. They remembered their faces, their questions, their apparent dedication to learning. Building that kind of professional rapport would be essential for what I had in mind.

I selected a seat in the front row, center position—close enough to demonstrate eager attention, but not so close as to appear obsequious. Around me, the other front-row occupants were settling in with the kind of methodical preparation that spoke of serious academic intent. These were the students who had come to learn, not merely to fulfill graduation requirements.

"Good morning, students."

The voice that filled the room was like honey poured over warm bread—rich, smooth, and utterly compelling. Professor Elara Vance entered through the greenhouse door, her arms full of fresh plant specimens that filled the air with the green scent of growing things. She moved with the fluid grace of someone completely comfortable in her environment, her blond hair catching the morning light as she arranged her materials on the front desk.

She wore practical clothes today—a deep forest-green dress that complemented her eyes, with sleeves that could be easily rolled up for hands-on work. Over this, a leather apron bore the subtle stains and scorch marks that spoke of extensive laboratory experience. Everything about her presentation said 'competent professional,' yet somehow she made even the most practical attire look elegant.

"I trust you all found your way here without too much difficulty," she continued, her gaze sweeping across the classroom. When her eyes briefly met mine, I felt that same spark of recognition from before, accompanied by what might have been the faintest hint of a smile.

"Before we begin today's lesson, I want to establish something important about this class." She moved to stand directly in front of her desk, hands clasped loosely behind her back. "Herbology is not about memorization. It's not about reciting lists of plant names or their traditional uses. It's about understanding—understanding the fundamental principles that govern how living things interact with one another and with us."

A student in the middle row raised her hand tentatively. "Professor, will we be learning about magical properties of plants as well as mundane ones?"

"An excellent question, Miss...?"

"Hartwell, Professor."

"Miss Hartwell. The answer is that we'll be learning about all properties of plants—what some call 'magical' and others call 'natural' are often simply different aspects of the same underlying principles. A plant that accelerates healing does so whether you attribute its effects to magic, to specific chemical compounds, or to both. Our job is to understand how it works and how to use that knowledge responsibly."

She moved to the specimens she had brought in, lifting a sprig of what looked like ordinary mint. "Take this, for example. Most of you probably recognize peppermint. You might know it as a flavoring for tea or sweets. But peppermint also has antiseptic properties, can soothe digestive distress, and when properly prepared, can serve as a mild local anesthetic. The same plant, multiple applications—all based on understanding rather than rote memorization."

I found myself genuinely impressed. This wasn't the dry recitation of facts I had expected, but a nuanced approach that aligned perfectly with Isabella had taught me. Elara clearly understood that true herbology was as much art as science, requiring intuition and experience to complement academic knowledge.

"Now then," she said, setting down the mint and picking up a piece of chalk. "Let's begin with the fundamentals. Who can tell me the three primary categories we use to classify herbal preparations?"

My hand rose smoothly, neither too eager nor hesitant. Around me, I could sense other students shifting uncertainly, some clearly unfamiliar with the terminology, others perhaps knowing partial answers but lacking confidence to speak up.

"Yes, Harold," Elara's eyes settled on me with genuine interest.

She remembered my name, wow what a dedicated teacher.

"The three primary categories are therapeutic preparations—those used for healing and medical treatment; nutritional preparations—those that supplement diet or provide specific nutrients; and regulatory preparations—those that help maintain or restore the body's natural balance and functions."

A warm smile spread across her features. "Excellent, Harold. That's a comprehensive and accurate answer." She turned to write the categories on the blackboard, her handwriting neat and precise. "Can you give us an example of each category?"

This was almost too easy. Years of working alongside my mother rushed back—countless hours spent grinding roots, steeping leaves, and learning to read the subtle signs that indicated when a preparation was ready. "Certainly, Professor. Willow bark extract would be therapeutic, used for pain relief and reducing fever. Nettle leaf preparations are nutritional, rich in iron and vitamins. And chamomile would be regulatory, helping to calm the nervous system and promote natural sleep patterns."

"Outstanding." The genuine warmth in her voice made several students turn to look at me with expressions ranging from impressed to envious. "You clearly have a solid foundation in herbology. Have you studied this subject before?"

"My mother had knowledge of herbs, Professor. I grew up learning at her side."

Elera's expression softened with understanding and something that looked remarkably like compassion. "Then you understand that this knowledge represents not just academic learning, but a living tradition passed down through generations of healers. That perspective will serve you well in this class."

She turned back to the blackboard, adding notes beneath each category. "Mr. Whitmore has given us excellent examples, but I want everyone to understand that these categories often overlap. A single plant might serve multiple functions depending on how it's prepared and administered…."

Elara continued the class which was clearly too easy for me as I responded all her questions even the hardest ones.