“Allen,” Livia finally couldn’t suppress the curiosity surging in her heart, “what is academic freedom?”
Allen’s gaze turned to her, and in those golden eyes, a gentle smile rippled outward.
“Livia, in your view, what is a Crest?”
She answered without hesitation: “A curse disguised as power.”
This answer carried the resentment and pain she couldn’t escape even after nine hundred ninety-nine cycles of reincarnation.
“Well said.” Allen smiled and nodded, as if praising a student who had answered correctly.
“In a certain sense, the Crest is indeed a curse. But the curses on humanity—are they limited to the Crest alone?”
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the two of them.
“Ignorance, selfishness, greed, and even the love and death we cannot avoid—which of these doesn’t count as a curse? But in my view, all these curses can be subsumed under a single thing, becoming existences that can be understood and analyzed.”
“Its name is science.”
“What is science?” Gregoire’s aged voice carried a barely restrained urgency.
Allen didn’t answer directly. He strolled over to the academy desk, casually picked up a blank piece of parchment and a charcoal pencil.
A scratching sound rose as the pencil tip flew swiftly across the paper.
“What we commonly call Crestology is actually divided into two parts. One part is the traditional study of noble insignias, genealogies, and etiquette—this is history, this is politics.”
“The other part is the study of the power inherent in the Crest itself. But this kind of research went down the wrong path from the very beginning.”
Allen’s pencil tip traced a clear human figure on the paper, and according to current theories, marked out the rough relationships between the limbs, torso, and Crest power.
“In order to maintain their rule, Crested Nobles deliberately shrouded the power of the Crest in mystery and sanctity. They kept the characteristics of their family Crests tightly under wraps, passed down secretly through generations, never leaking a word. This is precisely why so-called Crestology isn’t a true discipline at all.”
He raised his eyes, looking at Gregoire, a trace of mockery curling at the corner of his mouth.
“It can’t even be called a craft. At best, it’s an empirical art.”
“The teachers at the academy are mostly Sword-Bearing Nobles by birth. What they teach is nothing more than the basic characteristics common to Crest bloodlines—how to use one’s own ability, and what harm comes from overuse. How is this imparting knowledge? This is clearly sharing taming tips.”
Before his words even faded, Allen’s charcoal pencil pressed down heavily, drawing a striking and resolute X on the heart of the diagram.
“Crestology is a discipline tightly bound by politics, by class, by secretivism. My Crest Encyclopedia—why could you only shelve it as a reference for the King? Because once made public, it would expose every Sword-Bearing Noble’s hidden cards, and shake the very foundation of the kingdom.”
Gregoire nodded silently, his expression grave.
That was indeed the truth—whatever value that book held, its potential destructive power was equally terrifying.
“And academic freedom means severing these chains bound around knowledge!”
Allen’s voice suddenly rose, declaring with finality:
“Under the banner of academic freedom, the Crest will no longer be a sacred, inviolable bloodline privilege, but a scientific subject that can be openly studied, analyzed, and deconstructed! We must disenchant it, allowing everyone to understand the secrets behind it in the most fundamental way, and ultimately, completely master that power!”
His gaze burned, as if it could ignite the air.
“When a commoner can also learn, understand, and wield power similar to the Crest through study, what is left of the so-called nobility?”
“Science is precisely the discipline that explains the world this way, changes the world, and ultimately leads to truth!”
The future painted by these words was too subversive, too shocking.
Gregoire and Livia were both struck speechless, sinking into a long contemplation.
For the first time, an image surfaced in Livia’s mind: she no longer needed to play the role of the perfect Top Student, no longer needed to trade glory for a place to stand.
She could simply delve into those profound bodies of knowledge out of pure passion, discussing the mysteries of the Crest with countless others…
That was a truly free life she had never dared to dream of.
“Academic freedom isn’t just about turning Crestology into a true science.”
Allen’s voice sounded again.
“Its ultimate goal is to achieve ‘a hundred flowers blooming, a hundred schools contending.’ Let the collision of ideas produce the spark of truth, rather than having authority, religion, and secular power silence our mouths and seal off the road to truth!”
He set down the charcoal pencil, his gaze seeming to pierce through the office walls, reaching into a distant time and space.
“The Holy Scripture says: ‘You shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free. Fear not the perils of the road ahead, for its end is Paradise.'”
Allen’s voice carried a strange rhythm, like the true words of a deity, sending Gregoire’s entire body trembling.
Academic freedom!
In this late medieval society, this was unquestionably a God-inspired concept.
Gregoire knew the secrets of the Church—it had been revealed to him by Louis XI, a former member of the Inner Circle.
Although the Church had inherited the legacy of the Lost Civilization, those advanced bodies of knowledge were strictly restricted to dissemination among Inner Circle members, with layers upon layers of clearance—contacting high-permission knowledge was harder than scaling the heavens.
The Church’s knowledge transmission was closer to secretivism.
In order to evade the trials of the “Observer,” the Church went to great lengths to shackle the development of human society, with religious studies completely replacing the soil of science.
An organization of salvation that had inherited the most advanced knowledge had instead become the greatest prison warden of thought—this was nothing short of a historical tragedy.
And now, this “God’s Messenger” before him was preaching, from his transcendent position, a brand-new concept capable of overturning all of this.
This had to be divine wisdom and enlightenment!
Allen’s golden eyes shimmered with a strange brilliance, and the entire office was bathed in a solemn and sacred atmosphere.
“Do you have any other questions?”
“You’ve explained it excellently; I have no questions.” Gregoire let out a long breath, as if shedding a thousand-pound burden, his whole being noticeably lighter. “Sir Allen, please continue.”
Seeing the old dean like this, Allen quietly breathed a sigh of relief in his heart.
Good, the fish has taken the bait.
His fangs—those of a schemer, a cunning strategist—finally emerged silently beneath the halo of idealism.
“The academy’s reform will be entirely centered around the core goal of ‘academic freedom.’ In the future, St. Nora Sigil Academy will become the academic center of the entire continent.”
“A thousand years from now, people will still remember that in this dark age, it was St. Nora Sigil Academy that first lit the flame leading to truth.”
“You see, are you satisfied with this future?”
“I am very satisfied, only…”
Gregoire’s voice carried a tremor shaken by the grand blueprint, but the instinct of a scholar to question ultimately wasn’t devoured by this nearly religious fervor.
He was silent for a long time, as if weighing the full measure of this plan with a lifetime of wisdom, and finally let out a long sigh.
“This vision of yours… is too grand, too… distant. I cannot imagine how it could be realized, and the resistance along the way would be utterly terrifying.”
“No, Your Excellency, it isn’t distant at all.”
Allen withdrew that near-divine radiance, transforming back into the sharp-eyed, calculating reformer.
He pulled a thick stack of manuscripts from his chest and handed them to Gregoire with both hands.
“This is the reform plan I drafted overnight. It will be the keel of that Ark.”
Gregoire solemnly accepted the stack of manuscripts; their thickness and weight far exceeded his expectations.
He put on a pair of reading glasses, his fingertips brushing across the pages, where clear and neat handwriting lay, carrying a faint scent of fresh ink.
Allen’s voice sounded beside him at just the right moment, steady and calm, no longer possessing that divine ethereality, but instead like a master engineer expounding on the magnificent machinery he was about to change the world with.
“Our reform is not a revolution achieved in one stroke, but a gradual infiltration—bit by bit, reshaping the academy’s bones and pouring a new soul into it.”
“First is the comprehensive overhaul of the curriculum system.”
“Traditional grammar and rhetoric should, of course, be preserved. But their focus must shift from analyzing classical scriptures buried in old archives toward more practical fields. For example, how to write a logically clear government report, how to conduct a forceful policy debate in the newspaper, how to craft a propaganda piece that can fire up the masses.”
Allen silently added in his heart: This is the cradle for training future bureaucrats, lawyers, and… revolutionary propagandists.
A pen, sometimes, is mightier than an army of a thousand soldiers.
“Logic must be strengthened as never before, and the most fundamental scientific methodology introduced. We must teach students how to observe, how to hypothesize, how to verify. This is the foundation for the positivist scientific philosophy of the entire kingdom.”
Gregoire’s fingertips traced across the paper, his expression growing increasingly solemn.
These terms he had never heard before opened a door to a New World for him.
“Sir Allen, what is positivism?”
“Positivism is a philosophy of understanding the world,” Allen explained. “It holds that all our knowledge must originate from experience observable by the senses and be verified through logic and reason. Any metaphysical empty talk that can be neither confirmed nor refuted should be excluded from the realm of knowledge.”
“For instance,” Allen pointed at the sky outside the window, “‘the sky is blue’ is a fact observable by everyone. But ‘why did God create the sky blue?’ falls into the category of the unverifiable. Positivism doesn’t care about ‘why’; it only cares about ‘what is’ and ‘how it is.'”
Gregoire nodded thoughtfully. He thought of those theologians in the Church who endlessly debated “how many angels can dance on the head of a pin,” wasting countless hours while contributing nothing to improving people’s lives.
This way of thinking was like a sharp scalpel, precisely peeling knowledge away from the bloated body of theology.
“With the introduction of concepts like science and positivism, we can further expand the boundaries of human thought.”
“On the basis of curriculum reform, the future academy should expand from its three-year system into a true university. To that end, the academy will establish four ‘practical discipline’ colleges.”
“First, the Natural Philosophy and Experimental Science Academy. We will build the kingdom’s first true laboratory, systematically teaching physics, chemistry, and basic biology.”
“Physics studies the fundamental laws of motion of matter, from the movement of stars to the fall of a feather; chemistry studies the composition and transformation of matter; biology studies the mysteries of life. These disciplines allow us to better understand the world we inhabit, and their applied value is immeasurable. For example, improved farm tools, sturdier buildings, and more effective medicines all rely on the support of these foundational disciplines.”
“Second, the Higher Mathematics Academy, which will focus on algebra, trigonometry, and surveying geometry.”
“Third, the Engineering and Applied Technology Academy, responsible for teaching architecture, mechanics, and metallurgy.”
Gregoire could understand the significance of these latter two colleges, but he frowned: “Sir Allen, these latter two disciplines are closer to the crafts of artisans. I’m afraid those haughty noble children will turn their noses up at them—they won’t be interested.”
“They will be.”
A cold sneer formed in Allen’s heart.
When cold artillery pieces land on their family castles, they will be. When enemy breastplates prove unbreakable, they will be.
War is the best teacher and will teach them how to behave in the cruelest way possible.
These colleges were never built for those obstinate enemies.
Algebra, trigonometry, and surveying geometry are the eyes of the future artillery corps, allowing the flames of revolution to precisely blanket every inch of enemy positions.
Architecture, mechanics, and metallurgy are the iron fists of the future revolutionary army, capable of forging superior cannons and sturdier bastions.
By then, who would still dare call these disciplines lowly?
Allen’s expression didn’t change as he patiently explained:
“Dean, the academy is after all the kingdom’s military academy. Some military subjects can intersect with these new disciplines and become more useful. For instance, mathematics and surveying allow a general to precisely plan logistics routes and battlefield layouts from a thousand miles away.”
“As for those Robe Nobility…” Allen’s smile turned meaningful. “They’ll be more eager than anyone.”
“Because we have a fourth college—the Political and Legal Academy.”
“There, they will learn how to truly govern a nation and how to become a qualified administrative bureaucrat. We will teach law, economics, diplomacy… and the art of rule.”
Of course, Allen wouldn’t tell him that here, he would systematically teach natural law and The Social Contract, quietly planting the seeds of equality, rule of law, and popular sovereignty into the minds of the future ruling class.
“While establishing the new disciplines, the academy also needs to reform its admissions and management systems, the core of which is breaking down class barriers.”
“The academy’s funding primarily comes from royal patronage, but that compromises the academy’s neutrality. In the future, to achieve economic independence, the Laval House will jointly fund with the United Bank to establish a ‘Merit Scholarship,’ providing full financial support for all brilliant students from impoverished families. At the same time, the academy can convert research results into Patents, licensing them to factories for revenue, achieving self-sufficiency.”
“Patent?” This was yet another entirely new concept. Livia and Gregoire both cast curious looks.
“Yes, a Patent,” Allen nodded. “Simply put, the nation uses law to recognize that a certain invention belongs to its inventor for a fixed period. During that time, anyone wishing to use the technology must pay the inventor a fee—otherwise, it’s illegal.”
Gregoire immediately seized on the contradiction: “But doesn’t this… conflict with the academic freedom and dissemination of knowledge you spoke of? Wouldn’t this become another form of restriction?”
“Quite the opposite,” Allen smiled. “Dean, think about it—if there were no Patent system to protect me, and I invented a new technology that could change the world, to protect my advantage, what would I do?”
Livia practically blurted out: “Hide it away, never tell anyone, keep it as a family secret.”
“Exactly. But with a Patent, the situation is different. I no longer need to fear someone stealing my hard work. I can openly publish it, even license it to others for production. This way, new technology isn’t suppressed—it actually spreads faster. And I can earn returns from it to fund more research. This is a positive incentive.”
Gregoire suddenly understood. He thought of the Laval House’s newspaper that had taken the Capital by storm, and that printing speed that seemed like a Sage’s Miracle.
He probed: “Your Excellency, you mean… if a Patent system could be established, you would be willing to apply for a Patent on that miraculous tool that produces newspapers and books, and license it out?”
The secret of the Printing Press couldn’t be hidden forever. Rather than have it reverse-engineered, it was better to offer it proactively as leverage to push the new system forward.
“Of course,” Allen nodded. “As long as the nation is willing to protect inventors’ rights through law, I would be more than happy to Share this technology, letting the flame of knowledge truly burn into every corner of the kingdom.”
Gregoire’s hands trembled with excitement.
As an educator, he naturally wanted everyone to be freed from ignorance.
Allen’s Printing Press was precisely the golden key to unlocking the people’s wisdom.
The Printing Press, science, positivism… Gregoire didn’t yet know about Allen’s “Enlightenment” plan, but he had already vaguely glimpsed the terrifying power beneath Allen’s grand blueprint, enough to overturn the entire world.
Where exactly was this God’s Messenger leading human civilization?
In the twilight of his life, Gregoire suddenly conceived an unprecedented thought.
He felt that his old bones might still hold out for a few more decades.
He truly, truly wanted to witness with his own eyes that light called “the future”—even if only its first ray of dawn.