Chapter 59
Chapter 59
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>Translator: Lord First
>Chapter: 59
>Chapter Title: Saint Yansk University and the Chamber of Secrets (2)
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*
A week passed, and Ivan was able to return to his life as a peaceful gardener.
That is, if you excluded Esidis, who would charge at him with a blade whenever their eyes met. She was turning into an aggressive-type monster.
It was a rather unwelcome change for a non-aggressive, civilized man.
In any case, the turmoil that had erupted in Fritzenkaya was settled within a week.
Considering the scale of the incident and its aftermath, there was no way everything could have been wrapped up in just a week, but fortunately, Fritzenkaya had a competent intelligence agency (one that prioritized domestic intelligence).
Dmitry wanted to boast about the beautiful conclusion he and his subordinates had orchestrated. If he had his way, he would have paraded around town like a founding hero, but he was in no position to do so.
-Thwack!
“Guuuhk!?”
“Your form is breaking. Again.”
“Snr… I’m…”
“Again.”
He was currently doing a handstand, his head pressed against the floor.
He glanced around, surrounded by his peculiar juniors who were also willingly doing handstands, their eyes sparkling as they gazed at Ivan.
*A bunch of spineless, pride-less fools….* Dmitry lamented the weak mental fortitude of the current generation of intelligence agents as he corrected his posture.
The man before them was, after all, the only human besides the Hero's Party with a confirmed kill record against one of the Seven Dragon Generals.
So, it wasn't fear, but…
Respect?
Respect. Yes. He was a veteran who had been a heavy hitter in the Annihilation Squad, the predecessor to the Counter-Intelligence Command, back when the war was at its most intense.
Yes, respect. It was definitely not fear. No, there was no reason to be afraid. Weren't they both of the same rank, Lieutenant Colonel? Besides, he was still young. Once he got promoted, they would see who was on top.
-Ah, Lieutenant Colonel Petrovich. You're here?
>-What? Oh, my apologies. It seems my hearing gets worse when there are fewer stripes on the rank insignia. I couldn't quite hear you. Could you perhaps speak with a bit more vigor? Ahem. Have some water ‘delivered,’ Lieutenant ‘Colonel,’ hahaha. Tsk, tsk, just because you’re retired. Once a soldier, always a soldier….
-Ah, wait a moment. Sir, let's talk this out. Sir, let's just talk. Ah.
>-Sorry. No, I said I'm sorry. I'm apologizing. No. Informal speech? When did I ever.
>-Ah, that potion, no, please put that down.
“…Urk.”
Dmitry, who had just been beaten up in his imagination, quietly closed his eyes.
*Right, it's respect.*
*
It was only after whipping the Counter-Intelligence Command’s discipline into shape that Ivan could finally accept their lengthy explanation.
Planting the explosives, well, that was one thing.
The Royal Guard's rebellion preparations…? Must have been tough to stop. Detecting it beforehand was also impressive.
Dwarves in the underground…? What in the world…
Destruction of the Crown Prince faction's communication network in the House of Lords, detention of the current king, seizure of the national treasury and royal vault. Oh, quite remarkable.
After getting the gist of the incidents Fritzenkaya had to endure on the same day, he listened to their desperate excuse (‘Senior, we were trying not to touch a single thing within your scope of work, haha, so it seems the rapport with the field agents wasn't quite there yet. Ahahaha.’) and nodded.
He understood that the Counter-Intelligence Command had been busy.
But wasn't the Counter-Intelligence Command supposed to be busy?
Sometimes, it seemed these uncivilized people from a pre-modern era had a tendency not to take the obvious for granted.
To use a drastic analogy, it felt like watching someone praise a sword for being sharp or a pen for producing ink.
Was he supposed to be understanding of the fact that the Counter-Intelligence Command had neglected their primary protection detail because they were busy with intelligence activities?
*It wasn't like this back in my day. When I was part of the Hero's Party's reconnaissance team, I simultaneously infiltrated enemy lines, stole information, and sabotaged key assets.* (This was true.)
Why couldn't the youth of today handle something so simple? It was a truly deplorable state of affairs.
And so, Ivan dedicated his entire weekend to the mental re-education of the Counter-Intelligence Command.
The agents of the Counter-Intelligence Command were delighted to receive direct mentoring from the founder of their very workplace.
Ivan was delighted that Fritzenkaya's intelligence agents had become a more elite force.
And Dmitry was saddened by his unpaid weekend shift and forced participation in a training regimen not listed in the biannual plan.
*
After the long ordeal was over, Dmitry propped himself up on trembling legs, sat on the sofa, and barely managed to speak.
“So, Senior. Are you going to the university tomorrow?”
“I have to.”
“Well, um… Ah… Her Highness told me not to say anything yet, so I really can’t tell you. Um. Soon… a royal favor? A royal favor. Yes, there will be a royal favor.”
“A royal favor?”
“Yes, and by soon, knowing Her Highness's personality, it’ll probably be tomorrow… You should dress a bit more neatly for work tomorrow. Maybe trim your beard, if possible.”
“I don't think I'm in a position to receive a public commendation.”
“Yes, well, none of us are. But I have a feeling it might be a very private commendation, not a public one. You know? That, uh, intimate business between a man and a woman.”
Ivan scoffed at the worthless nonsense and stood up.
He was not an adolescent boy; as a rational adult, he could surmise the princess's position.
Although she had just solidified her political standing, the princess ultimately had to decline the transfer of the throne. There was no sufficient justification to depose a perfectly healthy monarch.
The crown prince's kidnapping and the terrorist attack in the capital were not the king's fault. (Or so it was officially announced.) The moment the king's incompetence was assailed, the entire capital's defense system, led by the Counter-Intelligence Command, would be purged.
No matter how powerful the House of Lords had become, they could not let that happen. The capital's military, including the Royal Guard, was naturally the front yard of the high nobility.
Therefore, the king was not incompetent. It was merely that a few incompetent sycophants had been blinding the king's eyes. With that conclusion reached, succeeding the throne would instead become a target of censure.
So, the princess could not officially bestow any 'royal favor' upon the Counter-Intelligence Command or Ivan himself. No nation ever publicly rewarded its secret agents in the first place.
But as unreliable as Dmitry was, he wasn't the type to joke about matters concerning the princess.
Lost in thought, Ivan returned to the orphanage.
He happened to notice the orphanage's fence, its paint peeling. Even though he invested a substantial amount of capital into the building's beautification twice a year, this was the result. (The orphans had a habit of walking on the fence.)
If she was going to give him something, he hoped it was money.
Ivan nodded to himself and headed for the director's office.
*
As he had once reflected, if there was a single, universal rule in all academy-genre stories, it was this:
The academy's headmaster (or president) is the strongest being in the world.
Indeed. Why a genius wizard (with the appearance of a child) or an old master who had regained their youth (with the appearance of a child) was placed in a position that should be occupied by a seasoned administrator, he didn't know, but that was usually the case.
Come to think of it, Dumbledore was also the strongest in Europe, which was why he was able to successfully thwart the British Dark Lord (whose life goal was to strike a K-12 educational complex). The state of Hogwarts after Dumbledore's death made this a highly credible theory.
If one were to pick the strongest being in the world in this era, a few powerful individuals from the previous generation might be discussed. But they were sensible people, so they had neither the reason nor the leisure to take on the role of a university president.
Amidst all this, if one were to pick the 'strongest in Fritzenkaya,' it just so happened there was one person who was a former 'head of the administrative bureaucracy,' to whom 'the military, the treasury, the judiciary, and the legislature all simultaneously bowed,' 'but at the same time, now held no official position and was thus ready to take on an honorary one,' and 'was coincidentally of marriageable age.'
What did it matter if she was the strongest in terms of martial power? Even if the pre-modern era was uncivilized, people who seized power through sheer force alone vanished with the end of ancient times back on Earth.
Naturally, the meaning of 'strongest' was, of course, the person who held the 'strongest authority.'
That was right.
The strongest in Fritzenkaya.
Elizaveta Kirillovna Krasilov had safely sent the (former) president, who had shown up for work on Monday morning without a clue, back home (Krasilov did not give severance pay), and then began a complete renovation of the president's office.
“Ah, use ebony for that part.”
“Yes, Your Maj—No, my apologies! Your Highness!!”
“Don't be so formal. Am I not here as the president now?”
“Yes, President!!”
The task of converting the president's office into a replica of her office in the Eastern Palace was surprisingly completed by noon. This was because in Fritzenkaya, they ground up humans instead of time. For reference, unlike time, humans were a resource that could be reproduced at any time.
Sitting in the president's office, which had become reasonably livable (meaning it was only about 50% as luxurious as her Eastern Palace office), Elizaveta finally nodded to her attendant knight.
“Now, bring ‘him’ to me.”
“By your command, Your Majesty.”
“Ahem.”
“Yes, President.”
Without daring to even think of telling her to leave the Royal Guard at the palace if she wanted to be treated as a president, the Royal Guard knight bowed with a peculiar expression and left the office.
Elizaveta stretched languidly and looked out the window.
The university campus on a sunny summer day was filled with energetic students, as if the chaos of the past days had nothing to do with them.
*How envious.*
Elizaveta had never attended school. In this world, where the concept of a formal education system was absent, higher education was mostly handled through private tutoring.
Half of her childhood was spent in the royal court, the other half on the battlefield. The education she received was focused on military science, political science, and theories of monarchy, in addition to noble and court etiquette.
This meant she had never experienced laughing brightly and walking in groups with her peers like the students below. She wasn't even that much older than them. (She considered anyone within a ten-year age gap to be her peer. Therefore, Ivan was also her peer.)
“Hmm…”
The official announcement of her inauguration as the president of Saint Yansk University would have reached the House of Lords by now. Those old men must be squirming in their seats.
Saint Yansk University was an internationally renowned institution. Therefore, the nobles, not just for the sake of education but also as a form of international social activity, tried to enroll their children in this school by any means necessary.
Looked at another way, it meant this:
If she took complete control of the university, it would be as if most of Fritzenkaya's nobles had given her their children as hostages.
Elizaveta smiled coldly. It was a smile befitting the ruler of a shogunate, a monarch who controlled the darkness of the kingdom.
An outstanding ruler achieves dozens of advantages with a single policy. The university presidency was not merely a threat to the House of Lords.
No, that was just a secondary objective. There were plenty of other ways to placate the House of Lords.
Thus, her true tactical objective was…
“President. I have brought him.”
“Let him enter.”
With a peculiar expression that betrayed no curiosity as to why she wanted to be called President when she used such a tone, the guard knight opened the office door and appeared.
Behind him, a man in clean work clothes with a fluffy towel draped around his neck entered.
“You're here.”
“…Yes.”
“Sit. We have much to discuss.”
The man glanced for a moment at Elizaveta, who had occupied the president's office, then looked around the room, which was completely different from how he remembered it. He then looked up at the ceiling for a moment and muttered.
*Looks like I'm not getting any money.*
However, since that was not the proper etiquette to display before royalty, the sensible and polite man soon sat down on the sofa.
*