The bard fantasized again.

Chapter 7 Stop daydreaming
To be honest, the content in the textbooks is like an old woman's long, smelly socks—long and tedious. If I had just finished a long day of farm work, I'd definitely want to hear about the landlords' exploits, not their stinking boots.

Ulasang frowned, reading the text while unable to resist offering his own comments:

"How could he use such vulgar language? If this were presented to a nobleman, he'd be sent to the gallows!"

"…To hell with the landlords, to hell with life!" If I could, I'd much rather they sang a song in front of those big shots. I'd much rather all of this wasn't just a dream.

Because we still have hopes for the future, we want to dream.

But I'm in a more dangerous situation.

It's best to treat it as a dream and forget about it as soon as dawn breaks.

Upon seeing the song's lyrics and its vulgar language, the bards, who considered themselves mouthpieces for the aristocratic gentlemen, couldn't help but gape in astonishment:
"These lyrics... are they something I should be talking about?"

Ulasang's face turned pale, then purple, and burned with pain—

Not long ago, he was still struggling with how to say more auspicious words in flattery!
"How could he say that?! How dare he sing like that?!"

This content is clearly cursing their financial backers, attacking the professors' teaching methods, and slapping their college in the face!

Upon hearing the dean's furious shouts, the students fell silent as if under a spell.

But his eyes never left his face—

[...I don't know what this young girl has been through. I can't empathize, so I have no right to lecture her.]

Regardless, she's still my first fan. Since I'll be staying here for a while, I'll try to keep an eye out for her if I have the chance.

[Perhaps I can also ask her to help me spread the folk songs, so that more people will know me and prove that I have been to this land.]

【and--】

She told me "see you tomorrow," seemingly looking forward to tomorrow as well.

It wasn't until I wrote this sentence that I suddenly realized...

Perhaps you've made a new friend.

After a long silence, one student finally couldn't help but mutter:

"How can this rotten mouth, which was chiseling hooks just a second ago, actually utter such words the next second?"

"There weren't any dramatic twists or turns throughout the entire book, and the writing was just passable. But I inexplicably finished reading it..."

"Who exactly wrote this journal entry? Why was he able to write on the Oblivion Stone? Was he the poet from the academy?"

Various doubts and discussions lingered in the ears of thousands of poets and students.

There are many different opinions about the identity of the original author, but they all feel that it is inseparable from the Academy of Poets.

Only the poets themselves know how much they fawned over the nobility.

To be honest, not everyone is willing to be a court jester, entertaining those in power.

This blog post, refuting those outdated topics in front of the entire college, clearly struck a chord with them.

Many people have written unconventional articles.

But in the end, they were all rejected on the grounds that they "did not conform to core values".

They are the mouthpiece of the nobility; do not say anything that is not in the best interests of the gentlemen.

Some things are better left unsaid.

but if……

"If only I could speak as freely as him and vehemently criticize that boring textbook of auspicious sayings;
"If only I could make the dean who rejected my manuscript fly into a rage..."

This complaint drifted lightly into Goya's ears.

She suddenly remembered the manuscript that her advisor had recently rejected—

'The nobles' money will be returned in full, while the common people's money will be split 30/70.'

At this moment, the words on the stone tablet were like an invisible blade, trying to help her break the shackles on her heart.

It draws out that expressive desire that originates from the depths of the soul...

But what's ridiculous is that even though her mouth is on her body, the words have already reached the tip of her tongue.

It was as if someone had locked her throat, preventing her from speaking.

Stop daydreaming!

A reminder silenced everyone's reverie.
"This journal entry is openly displayed on the stone tablet. If the Terran royal family sees it, they might hold our academy accountable..."

We're about to graduate. If we ruin our reputation, what future will we have?

Since it lacks independence, it cannot slap the face of the nobility.

Having grasped the key point, Ulasang immediately issued the order:
"Not a single word of what happened today can be spread!"

No one is allowed to mention the contents of the stone tablet—that is slander, defamation! It is disrespect to the entire academy and to our benefactors!
If I hear anyone endorsing or spreading these absurd words, regardless of their status or level, they will be expelled from the academy and never be hired again!
All jobs within the empire will be out of your reach!

The dignified dean was so angry that he stomped his feet, and his wig even tilted askew.

Fortunately, Goya quickly helped straighten him up and asked thoughtfully:
"Mentor, he mentioned at the beginning that it was a year after his trip. Is it possible that he was a senior who left the academy a year ago?"

“Very likely! Investigate, investigate all the poets who left the academy in the past year.”

We must find this black sheep before the next sponsorship payment is received!

The training period for poets is not fixed, but it is generally seven years, which is enough for a beginner to grow to master a basic musical instrument.

Of course, there will always be exceptions.

For example, when the topic turned to the crucial point of 'one year', Goya suddenly remembered a name, and hesitantly whispered in Ulasang's ear:

"Mentor, it seems Tang Qi also happened a year ago..."

"Donkey Weinberger?"

Ulasang has taught many students, but he only remembers two types of people.

One type is the exceptionally talented, like Goya, a top student who is hard to fault.

One type is those who make him so angry he's practically fuming, like Tang Qi—

"Tang Qi, go to Lord Larsen's mansion and sing an inspiring poem."

Remember, avoid mentioning knights; his wife recently eloped with one!

"I've got it in mind, mentor."

What did you remember?

"Inspiration, knight, elopement."

A blank, wooden face suddenly appeared before his eyes.

Ulasang waved his hands repeatedly, as if he had heard a joke:

"How could that be? If he really had that ability, would I need to send him away?"

Even if he was so angry he stomped his feet, putting aside the content, Ulasang couldn't find too many problems with this blog post.

The writing style is crude, yet it carries a strange sense of humor.

The melody is inaudible, but the lyrics are simple and catchy.

It cannot be called a masterpiece, and it is certainly not something that Tang Qi, who only knows how to recite from the book, could have created:
"That child might have already gone home. After all, he is the illegitimate son of a nobleman. Having a skill will at least prevent him from starving to death."

Thinking of this, Ulasang sighed.

Hopefully, that piece of wood can understand the unspoken meaning behind my words, spoken to save face for both of us—

Sending him away is meant to make him realize the difficulty and back down.

Go home and ask that adult for living expenses, then just loaf around and wait to die.

Instead of actually carrying a lute and traveling across the continent, only to die in some unknown corner of the world...

“I’ve practically watched him grow up. Goya, when you have time, go and find out about the child for me.”

Geya responded, her azure eyes fixed on the starlight on the stone tablet, and asked curiously:
"The contents of that stone tablet..."

Ulasang pondered for a moment, then sighed:
"After all, this is the first time in thousands of years that words have been engraved on a stone tablet—although we don't know what method was used."

But for the college, it might have some significance...

I went to fetch a sorcerer to cover the stone tablet.

The rise and fall of the academy are closely related to the stone tablet.

The re-engraving of these words today may also signify something in the unseen realm.

Ulasang glanced up casually and looked at the horizon, where a faint glimmer of light appeared.

The sky, like the deep sea, was a dark blue expanse, but now it was faintly tinged with the orange-red of the rising sun.

He suddenly realized that the night was gradually fading away from the noise:
"Tomorrow is coming."

Is that the future of the academy?

He reached out his hand, trying to greet the first rays of dawn.

……

Sunlight streamed through the cracks in the window and fell on Tang Qi's fingertips.

"So none of this is a dream."

(End of this chapter)