1. The Chairwoman Conceals the Finances
1. The Chairwoman Conceals the Finances
Grandis Academy was a private institution.
Its history was remarkably short compared to the other academies in the Kingdom, yet among the handful of private academies that existed, it boasted the finest facilities and the highest standard of education.
It was also renowned as the place personally built and nurtured by one of the Kingdom's only four 8th Rank beings—a battle-hardened martial artist who had poured her entire lifetime of wealth into founding the school and serving as its Chairwoman.
A top-tier faculty. Scholarships that practically rained from the sky. State-of-the-art research equipment, a swimming pool, a gymnasium, and welfare facilities that even the hegemonic Empire would struggle to match.
The Chairwoman herself had been born into poverty and had never been able to attend an academy properly, so the tuition was kept shockingly low to ensure even the poorest students could enroll.
It was a place that could not fail to attract students—for commoners, especially, it was practically a one-way ticket to turning their lives around.
And yet, in one conference room of Grandis Academy, a battlefield atmosphere hung heavy in the air.
"... ... ..."
"... ... Hm."
"Sigh... ..."
Grandis Academy was broadly divided into three fields: Magic, Martial Arts, and Administration.
Within each, countless specializations and schools of thought proliferated, but broadly speaking, that was the structure.
The professors, who ordinarily spent their days snarling at one another over conflicting interests even within their own fields,
had for once closed ranks, partitioning the cavernous conference room's atmosphere into three distinct camps.
Three chairs had been prepared. The representative of each field took their seat, and behind them stretched rows occupied by nearly every professor in that division.
"Well, it has been a year, hasn't it, Professor Ruster?"
"Professor Elpinbaiser? So they picked you as representative again this year, same as last. I'd like to hope not every soul in the Martial Arts field has replaced their brains with muscle."
"The pasty bookworms who do nothing but poke at magic and research dare—"
"Aren't you both exhausted by this annual ritual? I rather doubt the faculty of the Magic and Martial Arts fields chose you as their representatives so you could grab each other by the collars and brawl in here."
"Oh, always striking the noble pose this time of year, despite being the loudest of the lot."
"Professor Ariel, didn't the Administration representative get replaced inside a single day last year? It hasn't changed again before the meeting even started this time, has it?"
"... ... Tch."
The verbal jabs were far too childish for people capable enough to hold professorships at Grandis Academy.
But from their perspective, it was an essential ritual. Rattling the other fields' morale just before the 'meeting' was highly effective.
No matter how juvenile or brazen, you could not allow yourself to be cowed. The loudest voice in the room didn't always win—but if your voice was too quiet, you'd never even get a chance.
These three, then, were less true leaders or representatives of their fields and more akin to fighting cocks.
Selected purely for having the loudest voices, the thickest skin, and the greatest talent for verbal combat.
And the reason the faculty of all three fields had gone to such lengths—
A soft click.
"Is everyone assembled? The Chairwoman is absent due to unavoidable circumstances. I will dispense with the opening address and proceed directly to the meeting."
"Unavoidable circumstances?"
"She has briefly traveled to the eastern coast."
"So she has gone on leave, then?"
"Well, it is of no great consequence."
A brief murmur rippled through the faculty at the sudden news that the Chairwoman had left for a vacation(?) on the eastern coast, but the room soon quieted.
This was the single most critical meeting of the year, held only once. The Chairwoman's absence was arguably troubling.
But the professors' gazes were fixed on only one man, who stood at the center of the room.
The youngest person in this conference chamber. The least experienced. The lowest in Rank.
But the very same capable figure the Chairwoman had entrusted with full authority last year, just as she did now.
The Finance Director of Grandis Academy, Adam Caines.
Until the year before, Adam had been dismissed as nothing more than an insolent nobody who'd caught the Chairwoman's eye and rocketed to undeserved prominence.
In this chamber, he was indisputably the one in power.
Even the fighting cocks of the three fields, who had been busily checking one another, fixed their attention on Adam with unmistakable tension.
And so Adam Caines, holding the undivided attention of every professor in Grandis Academy:
"Then, from this moment—"
"We will begin this year's budget allocation meeting by field."
Declared war.
*
Ruster of Magic, Elpinbaiser of Martial Arts, Ariel of Administration.
This year's chosen fighting cocks wasted no time baring beaks and claws as they lunged at one another.
"The Magic field walked away with over fifty percent of the budget last year! How about a little give this time around!"
"Ridiculous! That was because Professor Kirke of the Life Magic specialization published a paper on an improved Healing Potion formula! The results earned an award from the Royal Household itself—funding befitting those achievements is only logical!"
"If that's your argument, then perhaps the budget should flow exclusively to the Life Magic specialization. Professor Kirke's performance was outstanding. The Magic field's collective performance was not, was it?"
"Elpinbaiser! Do not muddy the issue! Professor Kirke belongs to the Magic field all the same!"
"This year, the Northern Margrave's youngest daughter is set to enroll. When one speaks of a Margrave, one speaks of a renowned martial house. Surely a larger budget allocation is only natural?"
"Are you using a student as a pretext to siphon off budget now?!"
"Professor Ariel, you seem to be reacting rather sensitively. What, is it because most of Administration's incoming students are commoners that you fear you won't get any funding in a discussion like this?"
"How dare a so-called professor—!"
"Anyone listening would think we were discriminating against commoners! The Margrave's youngest daughter does not enroll alone! Numerous escorts will enroll alongside her, and her family's retainers will be reporting on her educational progress! Do you not realize that every single element of this reflects upon the academy's prestige!"
"Prestige that belongs to the Martial Arts field, you mean!"
Ah, this coffee is excellent.
Sitting in the seat of honor at the center of the conference room, watching the fighting cocks wage their cockfight, even the bitter black coffee went down smoothly.
The early stages of the budget allocation meeting were always nothing but unproductive shouting like this. Last year's experience had taught me that quietly spectating was the best course of action for now.
The rule was that only the field representatives were allowed to speak. The faculty assembled here easily numbered over a hundred; if every single one of them raised their voice, it wouldn't be a meeting—it would be a mass brawl.
That didn't mean they remained silent the whole time, of course. Any professor faced with the words "this year's budget allocation" would want to sell themselves.
Research funding and subsidies were always better in larger quantities. The only professors who'd claim they were fine with their research budget getting cut were traitors already eyeing a position elsewhere.
Even the timid professors, and the new hires unused to this atmosphere, had materials prepared in their hands as they waited for their moment.
After this customary cockfight ended,
the real contest would begin.
"To begin with, considering that the bulk of the Martial Arts field's budget goes to purchasing training weapons and equipment and covering medical costs, it ought to be classified as support funding, not—"
"—Enough. I have heard the three fields' positions sufficiently."
My voice wasn't even particularly loud, but the moment I spoke, the representatives—who had been shouting themselves hoarse—shut their mouths.
They, too, understood. Squabbling like this did not determine the budget allocations. Yet there was a reason they still volunteered to be fighting cocks.
I paused a moment in deliberation.
"This time, I will hear presentations in the following order: the Administration field, the Martial Arts field, and finally the Magic field."
"Excellent... !"
"Tch. A pity."
"... This won't do."
What the fighting cocks actually determined was the order of presentations. Purely by volume and sheer nerve.
Anyone who dismissed the order as trivial, since I'd be hearing everything anyway, was an amateur. Keep this in mind: everyone gathered here was a professor of the Kingdom's finest academy.
They were about to explain their research and plans to secure a larger budget.
And I, no joke, was supposed to listen to and evaluate every single specialized field—Magic, Martial Arts, and Administration—entirely on my own.
Physics. Chemistry. Genetic engineering. Algebra. Statistics. Business management. Educational theory. On and on.
Imagine being sent to a scientific conference and told to rank every paper and research presentation there. Obviously, presenting early was advantageous.
The Magic field in particular, loaded with technical jargon, was desperate to claim the first slot. Trying to explain specialized terminology and expertise to me after I'd already been worn down by the self-promotion of over a hundred other professors was tantamount to budgetary suicide.
In any case, after the fighting cocks—no, the representatives—had failed in their duty, the Magic field quietly dragged Professor Ruster away for some internal discipline, and Professor Ariel beamed brightly as he began the Administration field's presentation.
"My current project concerns the fundamental structure and construction planning for a lakeside city. Given the Royal Household's recent indications of intent to expand the eastern coastal cities, the practical applications are substantial—"
"A treatise on an improved method of road construction. As you will see on page one hundred twenty-four—"
"A proposal for a new document format that can be applied at the Kingdom level—"
"Hm. Understood."
The research presentations from the Administration field were relatively easy on the ears. Not because the research itself was simple.
It was because most Administration professors came from a hands-on working background. They knew how to convey information to a superior who had zero specialized knowledge and zero desire to acquire any.
Their hard-won know-how was genuinely pleasant to listen to. Above all, I had studied for the civil service exam myself. I didn't compare to the professors, but I did possess a modest foundation of knowledge.
More importantly, the Administration field generally did not require that much budget to begin with. Compared to Martial Arts and Magic, they were absolute angels. I genuinely appreciated them.
In a state of true satisfaction, I finished hearing them out, then turned my head toward the Martial Arts field.
"The recently developed training sword has proven exceptionally useful. It detects the mana layer that forms around the body at 3rd Rank and above, automatically dulling its edge. A bulk purchase of these—"
"Construction of a specialized training hall to develop new training regimens and swordsmanship techniques—"
"As mentioned earlier, procurement of dedicated equipment to ensure a smooth education for the Northern Margrave's youngest daughter—"
"Right... Understood."
The Martial Arts field, honestly, barely even qualified as research. These people would rather spar one more round than sit at a desk agonizing over a new sword form.
As a result, the budget allocated to the Martial Arts field was overwhelmingly concentrated on buying new weapons and gear, expanding training halls, or stocking up on Healing Potions for rapid treatment.
Truthfully, I didn't much care for this field. They fought so incessantly that the training-ground repair costs were a fixed monthly expense. I'd have been happier if they developed some kind of swordsmanship that caused gold coins to materialize out of thin air with every swing.
... Well, my grumbling was only that. The Martial Arts field's budget was still within projected limits. I just griped because they ate up more money than Administration.
I'd heard the Martial Arts field out in broad strokes as well, and I finally turned to the last field.
More precisely, the baby hippos that devoured money.
"To develop a new magic reagent, acquisition of the latest Magical Apparatus developed in the Empire—"
"Purchase of Magic Stone samples for a comparative experiment on artificial Magic Stones capable of inscribing Magic Circles—"
"For foundational magic research, Etherium Ore is needed—"
"... ..."
If I were the Chairwoman, I'd have flipped the table and shouted at these goddamn bastards.
The latest Magical Apparatus? Magic Stone samples? Etherium Ore?
I guarantee that just those three items alone would cost enough money to feed an ordinary family for thirty years.
And that wasn't all. Their demands were excessive because they were so sensitive to the latest trends. That professor who'd just asked for the newest Magical Apparatus—hadn't he said last year he was purchasing research equipment to develop a magic reagent? Did he fucking eat it?
They must have noticed my displeasure, because they made a reasonable effort to explain the jargon in simpler terms. But the required budget didn't shrink one bit.
The Magic field might be the reason Grandis Academy could claim to be the Kingdom's best, but even so, wasn't this too much?
They looked like they'd been poisoned by the period before I became Finance Director, when the Chairwoman used to fling money at them indiscriminately.
The crisis of bankruptcy had to have been creeping up even back then. It only made me marvel anew at the Chairwoman, who'd scattered funds around while pretending nothing was wrong.
"Is that all?"
My tone came out curt as a matter of course. A few professors bristled for a moment, but if I gave you bastards everything you wanted, the academy wouldn't go bankrupt three years from now—it would go bankrupt this year, you pack of soon-to-be-unemployed bastards.
In the end, the budget decision was mine. Getting angry here would only hurt the professors. As long as the Chairwoman backed me fully, I had no reason to worry about losing my position as Finance Director.
When no further remarks came, I was about to wrap up with a rough allocation decision.
A professor raised her hand.
"Yes. Speak."
"... Professor Kirke. I wish to present my current research project to the Finance Director."
"Go ahead."
Professor Kirke... The Life Magic specialist who'd done the Healing Potion improvement thing?
She was a brilliant scholar, but also a devout believer who'd donated the entire research breakthrough to the Church wholesale. Her name didn't generate much goodwill.
The reason Kirke had held onto her professorship despite that stunt was that the fact hadn't been formally publicized yet, and the Chairwoman, after much deliberation, had decided to take it into account.
That was the Chairwoman's call, of course. I saw it differently. The Chairwoman had been lenient only because, that single act of idiocy aside, Kirke was an exceptional educator and scholar.
But even if the Church now manufactured the improved Healing Potion, had the academy received just ten percent of the proceeds, it might have pushed the bankruptcy date from three years out to six.
So I'd been waiting for my chance. A chance to slip a leash around that budget-thief professor's neck for good.
Still, she was a professor who'd earned the Magic field's respect despite her youth, so I looked at her as if to say, Fine. Speak.
"The research project concerns a magic reagent capable of restoring already-damaged hair, and of regenerating hair growth from scalp tissue that has permanently lost its follicles—"
"Approved."
The Magic field.
Allocated sixty percent of the total budget. Confirmed.