Classroom of The Elite x AOT: Wax Wings

Vol 1.7 - On a Farm

Shameless plug—If you're interested in a CoTE OC that's an absolute psychotic nutcase then check out my other fic—It's been rewritten 3 times now, kill me.

Anyway, let's get back to the story.

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The door suddenly opened behind me...

I had no time to hide my tracks. There was no time to shove everything away without making much noise. It could alert the guards outside, the guards inside as well as the family. There was no time to blow out the candle, either.

Did I lose focus, somehow? This isn't like me in the slightest. What have I been eating—rephrase that, what haven't I been eating?

Maybe I haven't had enough water. Dehydration can impact concentration...or maybe—I haven't been eating as well as when I was back in ANHS or even the White Room. There are meats, grains, and leafy greens, but their quality and the general quantity I've been eating them in has declined rapidly over the past 3 weeks I've been here.

This is troublesome. Do I need to carry around a shopping list now?

"Oh, IsekaiKouji Kiyobaka-kyun~, you're low on iron! We can't have that now, can we?! Eat your sword! Eat your sword! It's long and hard~! Eat it! Eat it! Yes! Like that~ Mhnnn~"

I feel like I've lost my mind.

Slipping back into the shadows of the study room, ODM sword gripped tightly in my hand, I strategize. My plan: wait for the person examining the opened letters, then swiftly incapacitate them. My target—the frontal lobe, responsible for memory. Precision matters more than force.

I blend into the surroundings, erasing any trace of my presence.

"Father...? Are you in here?" A weary voice echoes. It's teenaged and feminine. "I noticed the door was unlocked...Are you in here? You...Yawn...shouldn't stay here too long... Mother will get mad."

No, whoever you are. Papa is not here! Please, leave before I monologue about my very graphic plans to choke the life out of you. It's for both our sakes!

A tired groan follows, and the door closes. "Water..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

No one remains. No presence nearby.

"Sigh...I think it's time to leave..."

After searching through the records, I found what I was looking for.

Nobles in medieval and early modern periods often had bastard children who weren't treated the best. If you were a bastard child of a low-ranking noble, then your treatment would be the worst. Facing ostracism, abuse and sometimes death, among others.

The higher you went on the social hierarchy, the better the treatment. Sometimes you'd even get land and titles. A good example is William The Conqueror, previously known as William The Bastard. He was the Duke of Normandy, a region in northern France, before becoming the King of England in 1066.