In the fortress Tree Hall, bright sunlight streamed through the skylight onto the burned-out fire pit, while specks of dust glittered in the air.
"I."
During morning reading, Count Bran stood atop a stump still sprouting green leaves and branches, an oak twig clenched in his beak, and pointed at the Common Tongue characters written on a smooth wooden board.
"Nest."
Beneath that board, which looked suspiciously like a blackboard, the little Slimes crowded together against Slime Mother, bumping into one another to send pheromone signals, just like students earnestly repeating after their teacher.
Count Bran listened in bewilderment—of course he could not understand the Slimes' pheromone communication.
But as the court tutor entrusted by His Majesty with such an important duty, he had to establish an image of being learned, composed, and unflappable before these students.
"Ahem, very good. As expected of this count's students. Such tiny words can't stump you."
"Now, let's learn the next one..."
"You."
"Mud..."
The Slimes' constant bumping in class carried all the way to the astronomical observation area of the Tree Hall.
There, a green figure was curiously observing the sky through an astronomical telescope, using gel to hold an ink brush as she diligently sketched and wrote on blueprints.
That Slime was Little Flower.
As one of the Slimes' top students, she had already learned these elementary lessons and did not need to study them all over again with the crow teacher.
Thus, she had gained greater freedom to pursue the recreational activities that interested her.
Before long, time quietly slipped away amid study and exploration. Just as morning reading ended, Chen Yu, the lord of this territory, returned in a cloud of dust atop Little Card, as though he had only just escaped from the busy work of developing the territory.