Chapter 45
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 45
Chapter Title: Gathering Talents (1)
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“Blood ties, regional ties, and school ties?”
Ian frowned.
“Are you suggesting we divide into factions?”
“If we head in completely the wrong direction, sure, it could come off that way. People might see it in a bad light. But no matter how the knight views it, I can't give up on school ties.”
“I just can't figure out what you're thinking.”
“Ever heard the saying that your arm bends inward?”
Ian nodded at Dominic's words.
“I'm not talking about openly forming factions. We don't have that kind of power anyway. This isn't some noble clique divvying up all the perks. But...”
Dominic's voice grew serious for the first time in a while.
“I want my family to always be happy. I don't want to leave my hometown. And if we're at it, I hope my school alumni do well.”
“......”
“Is that a faction? A power struggle? A breeding ground for corruption?”
“...It doesn't seem like it.”
“Exactly. So even if Evergreen Academy graduates end up leaving Evergreen, it wouldn't be a loss for me. Having folks out there who's friendly to our village? That's a win in its own right.”
Ian's mind grew tangled as he faced Dominic's grinning expression.
“So we need to start raising talent right away? People who'll develop Evergreen and love it. Folks who'll become the force that protects our village.”
“...Got any plans?”
“Yeah. For starters, could you handle being an instructor for the military department?”
“...What? Me?”
“I told you before. No need for anything fancy. Just how to hold a sword, shoot a bow, build stamina. That alone lets them step up as rangers, territorial soldiers, merchant guards, or even mercenaries.”
“I-I'm still lacking in my own training...”
Bang-.
Ian was flustered, at a loss from the sudden pitch, when the kitchen door flew open. In burst the Old Lord, face flushed with excitement.
“I give my permission. Accept it, Ian.”
“Master!”
“The village chief's handing you exactly what you need most right now. See? I do have an eye for people. Heh heh!”
Dominic barely swallowed the retort on the tip of his tongue: Who was it that couldn't trust the guy and stuck a watchdog on him?
“How'd you come up with such a brilliant idea?”
“The academy?”
“No, the part for commoners.”
He'd clearly been eavesdropping from the start.
“Ah, so the Old Lord likes that bit? Isn't it obvious?”
“Obvious?”
“I'm a commoner. You think high-and-mighty nobles would entrust their kids to an academy chaired by one?”
“Hahaha! Fair point. Sometimes I forget you're a commoner.”
The Old Lord's hearty guffaw came with heavy slaps on Dominic's back—his version of camaraderie.
'Ow! It friggin' hurts!'
Tears pricked at Dominic's eyes.
“Fine. I'll take the military department head position.”
“Huh?”
A deflated wheeze slipped from Dominic's lips.
“On my land, the empire's first academy for teaching commoners? Can't just sit on my hands.”
“C-contract!”
The daze lasted only a moment. He snatched paper and started scrawling furiously.
A Swordmaster volunteering to roll in? If I turn this down, I might as well keel over dead!
Not officially recognized as a Swordmaster, but with the Old Lord in an academy role, headaches would shrink to a tenth.
Who'd dare buzz around a place with the Old Lord as professor?
No one would risk mischief or rowdiness.
Administrative perks and connections? Nice bonuses, sure.
“Still, good intentions aside—is an academy for commoners even feasible?”
The Old Lord flipped like a pancake, from praise to doubt in a blink.
“I'm worried commoners can foot the tuition bills. Sponsorships have limits if you're not catering to noble brats.”
This world's academies ran on student fees plus hefty noble patronage.
Rumor had it the empire's top Imperial Academy got half its budget straight from the emperor.
They'd occasionally tutor sharp commoners or fallen nobles for free—but that was rare as hen's teeth.
Targeting broke commoners meant reeling in way more sponsors.
“Want me to write the Lord a letter?”
The Old Lord, eyeing his son's coffers, got shot down flat.
“No need. I've got it covered.”
Too much from one source, and you dance to their tune. No way! It's mine. Not letting anyone snatch it!
Dominic burned with ownership over an academy without so much as a foundation stone laid or a single student enrolled.
“Spill it. Gotta know to help.”
“Planning a work-study scholarship system.”
“Work-study? What's that?”
Dominic's ace: work-study students.
No rule saying kids can't earn while learning, right?
Full focus on studies was ideal if circumstances allowed, but his academy was vocational training from the jump.
Call it hands-on practice.
Village booming—fishing co-op uncles couldn't handle security alone anymore. Farms skipping magic fertilizer needed hands. Buildings to raise, land to clear, shops and outfits everywhere begging for workers.
And planned ventures? A whole slew.
“Three days study, three days work a week. One rest day. School matches jobs to aptitudes and interests. Deduct tuition and dorm costs from paychecks first, hand the rest to students.”
“Work and study? That work?”
“These aren't pampered noble heirs who've never dirtied their hands. What's wrong with working to afford learning?”
In 21st-century Korea, a pol spouting that would've gotten mobbed by parents. But when in Rome...
That was Dominic's bold rationale.
“Labor-short spots get reliable help. Students learn their passions, tuition- and living-free.”
“...Ripe for abuse, though?”
“I'll keep an eye out for funny business while I'm chairman. Department heads'll play a big role too, right?”
“Dumping it on this old bag of bones—classic you. Alright. Not sure if I'm backing a dreamer or what, but it clicks. Count me in!”
“Thank you, Department Head.”
“Hm? Hahaha! Yeah, Department Head now.”
Evergreen Academy's first spark.
Dominic's vow to build an academy for commoners rocketed past the village, blanketing Sinclair territory overnight. From there, noble soirées carried it straight to the capital's elite ears.
It even spiced up tea chats among noble ladies savoring pastries.
Not that the vibe was warm.
“Those southern barbarians pulling some freak show with an academy?”
“I heard. One for commoners, even. Good lord! What do the lowly need with learning?”
“Right? True education's for the chosen few like us—not illiterate dirt-diggers or grubby peddlers. Ohoho!”
“Southern trash can't even keep noble decorum, rubbing elbows with rabble. No wonder the peasants got guts now.”
The hostess's jab drew fierce nods from the ladies.
The empire spanned vast lands.
Regional temperaments and customs? Night and day.
The mild, balmy south bred open minds. Weather softened class lines too—noble-commoner divides ran faint.
Talented commoners climbed to admin or finance posts with ease. Nobles caught bullying got zero slack.
That southern ethos had turbo-boosted Dominic's streak so far.
Not that he knew.
Slurp-.
“Mm, what tea? Lovely aroma.”
“Crossed the desert for it. Take some home. But that village academy? Sounds worlds from the norm.”
“How so?”
“No ancient tongues, theology, or swordplay, they say.”
“Then what's an academy even teach there?”
“Well... Ellie?”
The lady summoned her maid, who stepped half a pace forward.
“Math, administration, foreign languages, accounting—for mid-to-low officials and merchants. Plus hands-on like cooking, sewing, pottery, architecture, herbology. That's the word, miss.”
The lady shrugged at her maid's report.
“Fancy name, but no liberal arts polish. Nothing to fuss over.”
“What good's learning trash like that?”
“Parents too dim to teach basics, I guess.”
“Oh my!”
“Ohohoho!”
Behind the ladies, commoner maids gripped skirts till wrinkles bit deep.
Like the countless heart-scars they'd borne in silence.
This wasn't just ladies' tea gossip.
“Tsk tsk. Southern dregs still sloshing around.”
“S-sorry!”
The Commerce Development Department's vice director chewed out his subordinate over handed docs.
“Redo the candidate list by next week. Scrub origins clean! Talent or not, they can't shake peasant stink for real work.”
“...Yes, Vice Director.”
The reamed official? A southern noble.
He'd ditched a cushy home admin gig chasing capital glamour. Lately? Disillusionment parade.
The capital was a straitjacket society.
Talent meant squat if birth walls loomed. Key seats stayed locked.
Same as a century back. Damn boomers!
Today's picks were all standouts. Real game-changers...
Dragging his hollowed heart back to his desk, home letters from buddies coaxed a smile.
Who's tying the knot this time?
He tore into the two-pager, stared long, then grabbed fresh parchment to pen a reply.