Crossroads (2)
Monday morning. Unlike our regular classes, the students summoned to a separate classroom found Professor Neville Brix waiting for us. Since Professor Istal von Lebenstein had handled all the academy’s major events until now, everyone had assumed she would be in charge again. A few surprised murmurs rippled through the room as we stared at him.
“Surprised to see me instead?” Neville asked, his tone dry. “If you were hoping for Istal, don’t look so crushed. Her turn will come soon enough—next rotation or the one after that. Though at this rate they may eventually assign a dedicated coordinator anyway.”
One of the students raised a hand. “When you say ‘next,’ does that mean this special request division will continue indefinitely?”
“Correct. You are the first cohort.”
Another student spoke up. “I heard that while we’re participating in the request division, we’ll be exempt from regular classes. Will that not cause problems with our academic progress?”
“More than half the current student body already meets the minimum standards we require. That is precisely why this program was implemented. In fact, we predict that participating here will improve your abilities more than attending regular classes alone.”
Neville turned to the large blackboard and began writing key words and simple diagrams.
When an anomaly occurs in a territory, the person who discovers it reports to the local guards.
—Bandit activity is disrupting a vital road connecting two villages.
—A boar the size of a house is destroying farmland.
—While gathering herbs in the forest, someone witnessed a crimson pillar of light shooting into the sky.
“If the territory is functioning properly, that information reaches the lord or his officials, who then implement appropriate measures. They might increase patrols, organize a subjugation force, or dispatch scouts to investigate the area. Of course, ‘ignore it’ is also an option. Reports that come up through the guard or civilian pleas for help are not always accurate. Sometimes that mysterious light turns out to be nothing more than nocturnal insects with bioluminescent properties. Above all, both manpower and resources are finite. Dispatching troops to every single incident would be the worst possible move. Distinguishing which situations truly merit attention is itself a measure of a lord’s competence.”
Once he confirmed the students were listening attentively, Neville continued.
“Just as the people of a territory may request aid from their lord, a lord may request aid from the state. When economic constraints, lack of personnel, or other factors make it impossible to resolve an incident alone, they seek assistance from their superiors. Until now, the military has handled these matters. Starting this term, the academy will assume a share of that responsibility.”
“So we’ll be intervening in incidents that occur inside the empire’s borders?” one student asked.
“No. The same applies to events in the Spero Kingdom and the Nahat Grand Duchy. The Morian Kingdom’s system is still being established, but in the long term we will cover them as well.”
The students began whispering among themselves. The scope was far more serious than they had imagined. They finally realized this was fundamentally different from the previous events that had merely been extensions of classwork—however noisy or dangerous those had been.
“This is basically just being mercenaries,” someone muttered.
The rest of us unconsciously nodded. Yes. It really was like a mercenary job. A special request routed through the prestigious Imperial Academy. The only real difference was that, at least here, the client wouldn’t stiff us on the reward afterward.
“As the notice already stated, there is no guarantee of your safety,” Neville said. “Whatever happens during a request, the academy will not be responsible. If any of you wish to withdraw, speak now.”
When the students hesitated, he spoke again, voice flat.
“I dislike repeating myself, but I will emphasize it once more. There is no guarantee of your life. If you want to quit, stand up and leave through the rear door. The staff outside will guide you.”
The sound of chairs scraping echoed. One student stood, deliberately avoiding everyone’s eyes, and hurried out the back door. Many others followed. In the end, thirty-one of us remained.
Neville looked at those who had chosen to stay and declared, “Then we will now divide you into squads. First, all students from the Tactics department, raise your hands.”
Four students, including Fiore Midas and Alphons Betuart, lifted their hands.
“The remaining squad leader will be Lyla Everblaze Barhart. I am entrusting that position to you. Any objections?”
“None,” Lyla answered calmly. “I will do my utmost.”
Neville nodded. “The five individuals just selected are now squad leaders. During a request, members of each squad must prioritize their leader’s judgment. However, if every other member unanimously opposes a decision, the leader must negotiate and adjust. If you have any complaints about this structure, you may leave through the rear door just like the others.”
A few students frowned slightly, but unlike before, no one actually stood up to leave.
The division continued without pause.
“Support department students, raise your hands and join the squad leader I designate.”
“Next, Magic department students. Move to the positions I indicate.”
“That leaves the Martial Arts department. Fortunately the ratios across departments are more balanced than I anticipated.”
Once the five squads had been formed, Neville addressed us again.
“Because this is the first request, we assigned the squads arbitrarily. Keep in mind that these formations can change at any time. The same applies to squad leaders. However, when new students join the request division later, we plan to appoint one of the first-cohort members present today as their leader. Real experience creates a significant difference.”
The students’ eyes gleamed. Neville’s words hinted that those of us sitting here might one day hold command authority over the more than one hundred students who had yet to join. The ones who had originally aimed for the imperial military or officer positions burned with particular enthusiasm.
“I will now explain the requests each squad has been assigned.”
Fiore Midas’s squad was composed of the following members:
Fiore Midas.
Chrome Midas.
Chase.
Frelia Magnus.
And two male students from the Martial Arts department.
They’ve split us up pretty blatantly, I thought.
It made sense that Princess Lyla couldn’t be on the same team as Fiore since she was another squad leader, but they had deliberately scattered all my usual companions—Ligret, Rabaul, Pino, Crow, Akasha, everyone—across different teams.
I glanced sideways at Ligret. She was sitting under another female Tactics student who looked desperately trying to assert control, wearing the most bored expression imaginable. I let out a quiet sigh.
I understood the reasoning. Six level-50s in one squad would be unbalanced. From the academy’s perspective, spreading out the stronger students to keep the average power level similar across teams was the logical choice. Still, that didn’t stop me from feeling annoyed that I had to be separated from the comrades I had worked so hard to strengthen.
Ligret is one thing—she’s on the same level as the princess—but I at least wanted Rabaul or Pino on my team.
The special request division.
It was a new option offered to students after the festival event in the academy storyline. From a player’s perspective, it had simply been fresh content that let you escape the repetitive cycle of classes and holidays while still technically remaining enrolled. You could get involved in all sorts of incidents across the continent without leaving the academy.
But looking at the reality unfolding in front of me now, its true purpose carried far heavier implications.
The role the academy expected from its students was to become a small, elite, multi-talented special forces unit. They wanted to give us real combat experience ahead of time so we could be used effectively once the war against the Ivestan Empire intensified in earnest.
And this was also a form of selection.
Would we actively step forward in empire-led events and operations? Could we cooperate with various comrades and successfully carry out assigned missions? Could we adapt to environments where we might have to risk our lives—or take the lives of others? Could we set aside our positions as nobles, our factional interests, and devote ourselves fully to this new role?
Leaving the decision to participate entirely up to each student was part of the same logic. If they forced us through top-down pressure, they might create obedient soldiers, but they would never forge the kind of “blades” they truly wanted.