New Semester (1)
The Barhart Empire Academy. Unless someone had completely severed all contact with the outside world and lived in total isolation, it was safe to say that no one on the continent didn’t recognize the name.
It was an educational institution founded by the empire’s founding emperor—a man hailed as a hero—under the lofty banner of nurturing blades for humanity. In the beginning, many had questioned its true purpose and practical value, but those doubts had long since been silenced.
The academy’s students had proven their mettle in direct clashes with the empire’s southern army. They had opened a clear path to success through the special request division—the Imperial Guerrilla Unit system—and elevated their honor by protecting civilians from vile terrorists. Greed for wealth, hunger for high status, ambition to carve one’s name into history, loyalty, or a sense of duty—whatever their reasons, far more than just the first-years came knocking at the academy’s gates.
And then they tasted the full, refreshing flavor of its madness.
“Is this really the preliminary exam!? What kind of insane difficulty is this!?”
“S-survival? They want us swinging real swords during the test!?”
“Wait, where’s the safety mechanism? …There isn’t one? You’re serious?”
“This place is crazy! Completely insane! I’m getting out of here!”
Only after experiencing that madness with their entire bodies did 402 new students finally manage to cross the academy’s threshold.
At first they were simply happy—whether they were rejoicing over passing or just over surviving with all their limbs intact varied by individual—but the more they learned about the academy’s regulations, the deeper their confusion grew.
To clear their doubts, they sought out seniors with whom they already had connections from the outside world.
“Marshall! Listen to me! There’s something seriously wrong with the entrance exam! They must have raised the difficulty because there were too many applicants, but there has to be a limit!”
“Lady Edel! What in the world is going on!? Not distinguishing between commoners and nobles!? The administrators here must have lost their minds!”
“Miss Charlotte, they handed me what looks like a storage shed and told me to live there. No matter what I say, they won’t listen. I noticed several decent mansions in the special district—how exactly does one go about moving there?”
“Hey, you. Is it really true that Her Highness the Imperial Princess is keeping company with some common peddler? What are you doing instead of teaching that wretch his proper place!”
“Brother Dalton! This place is weird! During the entrance exam some crazy woman snapped a huge guy’s neck clean in two!”
Unfortunately, the new students did not receive the answers they hoped for.
“Raised the difficulty? Hmm? It actually seems easier than the one I took. For one thing, the number of successful applicants is already double what ours was.”
“Hmm… There’s no need to get so worked up. I thought it was ridiculous at first too, but after getting knocked around a bit, I realized life is pretty much the same everywhere. Rolling in the dirt is rolling in the dirt.”
“Miss Wendy. You’ll grow quite fond of that ‘storage shed’ once you’ve lived in it awhile, so don’t worry. It’s actually rather convenient since you don’t have to concern yourself with others’ opinions. As for reaching the special district, the method is simple: effort. Just work very, very hard. Though I myself have no intention of doing so.”
“Shut up, you worthless fool. Just thinking about that Kaspar bastard gives me a headache, so don’t even mention teaching anyone their place. And have you not heard the news? That peddler will soon become an imperial noble.”
“Emil. You’re in the combat department, aren’t you? Then as your older brother, let me give you one piece of advice. Watch your tongue, little brother. That crazy woman is the head professor of the combat department. I hear the combat instructor for you first-years is her adjutant.”
It was the lukewarm gaze of those who had already walked the path, looking down at foolish mortals who could not yet see their own future. The new students still did not realize that the madness they had tasted so far was merely an appetizer.
Iris Otreang, a new student from the Spero Kingdom, had ambitions.
She intended to build up impressive achievements and influence within the academy and establish herself as a central figure among the kingdom’s nobility. Although her status as a daughter meant she had never received particularly warm treatment within her family, and her father—the family head—had ordered her to “stop wasting time on pointless endeavors and report every scrap of information circulating inside the academy without fail,” she had no intention of settling for the role of mere informant.
In Iris’s eyes, the academy was a land of boundless opportunity. High-ranking nobles one would struggle to meet even once in the outside world were scattered throughout the campus without ceremony. Classes provided endless pretexts to converse with them. Every evaluation was based purely on skill, and the “appropriate consideration according to social station” that would have been natural in the outside world simply did not exist here.
The idea of treating insignificant commoners the same as nobles was slightly difficult to accept, but considering that House Otreang itself was merely one of the middling noble families within the new royalist faction, there were far more people above her than below. In that sense, it was also an advantage.
Most pleasing of all to Iris was the fact that the Spero nobles currently within the academy lacked a clear central figure. While the outstanding talent Alphons Betuart existed, he represented the old royalist faction, and new royalist nobles avoided associating with him.
The only ones with both the justification and status to unite the new royalist faction were Frelia of House Magnus and Marcel of the newly arrived House Trebuchet. Between the two, Iris had fixed her attention on Frelia Magnus.
What exactly has this person been doing for the past year?
If she had clashed with the old royalists and been pushed aside, that would have been understandable. Alphons Betuart was a monster who enjoyed the full support of the old royalist elders despite his youth. Even Iris had no desire to face him directly.
If she had attempted to gather followers but been abandoned due to flaws in personality or ability, that too would have made sense. Magical talent and noble competence did not necessarily coincide. Even a marquis house like Magnus might send a somewhat defective child if they had no better options.
Yet Frelia Magnus was neither of those cases. She had never tried to unite the Spero nobles, nor had she crossed borders to cooperate with outsiders. She apparently enjoyed a respectable reputation as an honor student in alchemy, but what good was reputation if one never used it?
When Iris considered that if she herself possessed Frelia’s status and ability she would already have become a core figure of the new royalist faction, her insides churned with frustration. Yet from another perspective, this was an opportunity.
House Otreang lacked the power of House Magnus. If Iris tried to build her own faction from scratch, it would require considerable time and carried a high risk of failure. But if she approached Frelia and used her as a figurehead, she could rapidly seize real power as her close aide.
With the single-minded determination to move before anyone else could stake a claim, Iris approached Frelia and managed to arrange a private meeting with surprising ease under the pretext of a tea party.
“It is an honor to meet you. I am Iris Otreang, eldest daughter of Viscount Otreang. Thank you for taking the time to see me.”
“I’m Frelia Magnus. There’s no need to be so formal, so please relax.”
The first impression Iris received upon meeting Frelia Magnus in person was… plainness itself.
One could tell that noble etiquette had been thoroughly instilled in her, yet her every movement lacked any overwhelming grace. She possessed none of the unique charisma that could dominate a room, nor any particularly memorable individuality. She was certainly beautiful, but not to the degree that one’s gaze would be helplessly stolen.
To be honest, the silver-haired girl in plain clothes attending her was far more striking. Even with dark fabric covering the area beneath her eyes, her features were eye-catching enough that her true appearance without the veil must be quite lovely.
Iris stared blankly for a moment before quickly regaining her composure. Servants were not permitted inside the academy, so the girl was likely a hired commoner student. In any case, now was not the time to concern herself with a mere attendant.
“So they suddenly dropped us on an island in the middle of a lake and told us to find our own way out. I was completely stunned…”
“That must have been quite the ordeal. You have my sympathy.”
The conversation remained warm and friendly from beginning to end, allowing Iris to guide the flow exactly as she wished. Watching Frelia become completely absorbed in her own story, Iris felt a touch of disbelief.
Isn’t this too easy?
Before one even spoke of noble politics or psychological warfare, even a simple battle of wills between village girls would have produced a heavier reaction. Iris had originally planned to meet several more times to slowly build intimacy, but at this rate she could move straight to the main topic.
“In that case… if it’s not too much trouble, Lady Frelia, would you mind if I introduced a few other friends? Everyone would be delighted to receive advice from someone as experienced as you.”
“Hmm? Oh, that’s perfectly fine.”
The permission came so easily that Iris, now thoroughly accustomed to such simplicity, felt no surprise. She simply savored the sweet aftertaste of victory, enjoying the tea and snacks the attendant had quietly refilled.
Now that she had obtained everything she wanted, it was time to withdraw at the appropriate moment—
“—Even if you haven’t exchanged greetings yet, since they’re fellow academy students, aren’t they already friends?”
A spine-chilling shiver suddenly raced down Iris Otreang’s back.
…What did she just say?
At some point Frelia had produced a fan and now held it lightly over her mouth, gazing at Iris. That was all. Yet merely covering part of her face made her seem like an entirely different person. Iris swallowed unconsciously.