The Shield Brooch
Ludenberg Lavante stared fixedly at the brooch. He had no idea how to respond.
"……Thanks. But what's with the sudden gift?"
"You became the top of your year, didn't you? So I had to celebrate. I originally planned to be the first to congratulate you, but my sister beat me to it, so all the steam went out of it."
"It's just year-top. You already knew that."
"Still impressive is impressive. And actually……"
"Yeah?"
"You gave me a gift on my birthday too. I wanted to return the favor. But your birthday is still so far away—it felt like it'd take forever. So I was looking for an excuse to give you something, and then you went and topped the year. Perfect timing."
At those words, Ludenberg couldn't help but smile faintly.
"I see. Thanks, Tara. I'll wear it every day."
"Here, give it to me first. I'll pin it on."
Ashytara Solenute attached the brooch to Ludenberg's collar.
"There. All done. It suits you."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Your family crest is a shield, right? I was worried a shield-shaped brooch might be too much. Do you like it?"
Ashytara had made the brooch in the shape of a shield because of the symbolism his family carried. The shield that protected the empire.
"Yeah. It's cool. When did you prepare this?"
"I ordered it before coming to Solemnute Adem. You know that place you ordered from last time? Solium Merhen. I had them make it."
"Oh, you too?"
"Yeah. I loved the pendant you gave me so much…… I figured they'd do a great job."
"Glad to hear it."
"Ah, the food should be coming out now. I picked mostly stuff you like. Hope you enjoy it."
"If you keep giving me things like this, I won't know how to repay you……"
"I didn't prepare it expecting anything back. I just did it because I'm grateful, so don't worry about it."
Ludenberg nodded at Ashytara's firm tone, but he resolved to celebrate with her someday when something good happened in her life.
Adem Festa. The signature event of Solemnute Adem, held as spring transitioned to summer. It was a festival to soothe students exhausted from midterms, both mentally and physically.
The event unfolded like this: The student council prepared according to the dean's requests, inviting notable figures for plays and performances, or hosting competitions where students could show off their talents.
The content wasn't particularly grand, but students genuinely rejoiced at the news. Solemnute Adem's strict daily routines were rigidly controlled. Yet during Adem Festa, all restrictions lifted, and classes and training were canceled for three full days. For students, it was a chance to indulge in all the freedoms they'd been denied—naturally, they were thrilled.
"Heard? It's festival time!"
"When does it start?"
"No full schedule yet, but they say next week."
Dorms buzzed with excitement, girls and boys alike chattering nonstop. The mere word festival stirred hearts. Students already imagined the fun ahead and pondered who they'd spend it with.
But while most brimmed with anticipation, one person was tearing her hair out.
"Damn it. Too much work……"
Dalia Retiu, student council president of Solemnute Adem. She twirled her deep red hair around her finger while handling Adem Festa documents.
The workload was beyond imagination—she was going mad. Reading papers, stamping approvals, reviewing invite lists…… Her desk was a chaotic pile of files.
Her predecessor had graduated without proper handover, leaving her—appointed president at the start of the year—to drown in backlog. Especially for Adem Festa, with zero guidance, she'd started from scratch, experiencing firsthand what it meant to die buried in work.
"Please, someone save me…… I wanna quit this damn president gig……"
Just four months in, and she already despised the role. What good were perks if she couldn't enjoy them? Favored by professors? She was dragged around constantly, crushed by endless tasks.
Breaks? Nonexistent. Her exceptional talent kept her afloat; otherwise, she'd have collapsed from overwork long ago.
Other council members had finished their shares and left to play. Presidents could only assign tasks—no forcing compliance—which spelled disaster.
"I should've demanded authority over members from the start……! You crazy predecessors! What the hell did you do?!"
Staring blankly at the empty council room, she vented at the air.
This mess stemmed from professors selecting members by grades. Not volunteers, they felt no pride—just entitled perks for good scores. Efficiency tanked, participation lagged, burdening Dalia.
Ironically, Dalia herself had topped second-year finals last year, handpicked by Dean Calix Solenute and staff as the most capable third-year.
Another issue: Members didn't last the year. Fierce competition meant only elites stayed; most served one semester. Protesting that everything reset next term, Dean Calix had replied:
"If they hold positions without merit, old problems resurface. Even I can't prevent that. I understand your plight, Dalia, but fixed seats breed issues. Bear it for a year."
Dalia couldn't argue. Originally, council formed via voluntary participation and elections. But corruption and rigging scandals nearly dissolved it.
Professors then switched to grade-based selection, expelling troublemakers swiftly under strict oversight. They bore responsibility for their picks. Presidents weren't exempt—misconduct meant instant removal.
Dalia had considered faking scandal to quit, but hearing expelled presidents faced not just academy expulsion but years of grueling imperial dungeon labor killed that idea.
Thus, she racked her brain in agony today too.
As Dalia wrestled alone with papers, a knock echoed.
"Excuse me."
A youthful voice—likely new members starting today.
Dalia quickly straightened her clothes and hair. Checking her neat reflection, she prepared to greet them. Presidents needed dignity, not disdain—she called out lowly:
"Come in."
The door opened, revealing—as expected—Ludenberg and Ashytara.
Ludenberg and Ashytara eyed President Dalia with odd expressions.
They'd heard Dalia Retiu was a third-year. Yet the red-haired girl before them looked no bigger than Cletta Peliche.
In other words, quite petite. Her low, authoritative stance seemed mismatched, leaving them awkwardly puzzled.
"President?"
"That's me. Dalia Retiu. You're…… Ludenberg Lavante and Ashytara Solenute, right?"
"Yes."
They nodded, masking surprise. Regardless, she was last year's second-year topper. Selected unanimously by Dean Calix and professors as the finest third-year—no one would doubt her ability over size.
"Welcome to the student council. It's a huge relief having capable new members."
Dalia opened with praise.
"Thank you. Could we know what our duties are?"
"I'll explain gradually starting tomorrow. Any other questions?"
"Then…… how much work is there?"
Dalia smiled at Ludenberg's question.
"Figured you'd care most about the workload. Take a look around the council room."
No one else besides them.
"No one's here?"
"Yeah. They finished their tasks and left early. No need to stress—nothing tough. Just help with occasional requests."
"Ah……"
"No need to worry about busyness. Ask me if anything's unclear. Simple, right? Oh, check your assignments here every weekday morning. Got it?"
They nodded. Early mornings were no issue—daily dawn training made it trivial.
"Good. You're free to go. Not starting day one with harsh orders."
"Ah, yes!"
"See you tomorrow. I'll assign some tasks, introduce you to others…… don't be late."
"Got it!"
After bows, they left. Watching them go, Dalia sighed in relief at the diligent newcomers. First impressions counted—attire, attentive listening—all passed. She sensed she'd rely on them heavily this semester.