14. This Is the Finance Department: Despair Arc
14. This Is the Finance Department: Despair Arc
"Of course, that's assuming we accept all of them."
"Naturally."
"Now we need to discuss the real issue."
One might ask what there is left to discuss after staging an actual terror attack.
The problem was precisely that twenty letters of donation had arrived in a single day.
It had gone too well.
'Six from territories bordering the academy, four from merchant guilds, nine from private individuals.'
The neighboring territories made sense. Their economies depended on tolls and trade from people traveling to and from the academy, so they kept a close watch on its affairs.
More than that, any truly nearby lord would have felt the tremor when the Chairwoman unleashed her wave of Rigid Energy. A sensible one would, without question, send a condolence letter and a donation just to stay in her good graces. Nobody wanted to get on the bad side of a woman who could carve a basin with a single punch.
The merchant guilds were predictable, too. Even if letters took days to cross the kingdom, the very companies and knight orders contracted to carry them were the most sensitive to information. A guild that supplied the academy would naturally send a donation and a letter.
Private letters were beneath notice. Literally private—sent by individual graduates—and the donations were trivial next to what territories or guilds offered.
The issue was.
"This letter."
"......This seal."
"Yes. It's from the Royal Family."
There it was. The catch.
When I said "assuming we accept all of them," I meant this letter in particular. The other nineteen were no trouble at all.
So was the problem that the Royal Family had sent a donation in the first place?
Hardly.
"The distance to the capital from here—"
"Even at a full gallop, it takes a minimum of two days, unless the rider is a mage of 5th Rank or higher capable of teleportation."
"And yet the letter arrived in a single day."
"Correct."
A condolence letter—even a donation—was plausible enough. What nagged at me was that it had come so fast.
If the academy kept a Royal mage permanently stationed here, that would be one thing, but Grandis Academy was effectively the Chairwoman's private domain. No such official existed—least of all given the delicate standoff between the Chairwoman and the throne.
Besides, no one would waste a precious 5th Rank mage on a mere academy posting.
Despite all that, news of the attack had traveled swiftly, and the letter and donation had arrived practically overnight—as if a Royal mage really were stationed here.
Which could only mean one thing.
"It appears the Royal Family has eyes inside the academy that we know nothing about."
"......Aken Delminos. How dare he."
"They're still watching you as closely as ever, Chairwoman."
The Royal Family wasn't wary of Grandis Academy. They were wary of the Chairwoman alone.
She was the kingdom's greatest asymmetrical asset—but by the same token, its most dangerous rival to the throne.
With a powerhouse next door who could topple the Royal Family and crown herself king if she ever lost her temper, they had no choice but to keep constant vigil.
That said, the Chairwoman had voluntarily buried herself in this academy for decades, devoting herself solely to education, and the throne had therefore refrained from meddling.
"It seems they see this as an opening. A modest one, I suspect."
"They want even the smallest foothold in the academy, under the guise of a donation. Or they're trying to erode your standing."
"After all, Grandis Academy's influence has grown far too large over these decades."
Let's be blunt: whether in the Royal Family's ranks or the nobility of the territories, Grandis Academy graduates band together. They form a cartel, scratch each other's backs, pull each other up the ladder. It's no exaggeration to say that most high offices are held by alumni.
Of course, that doesn't mean the Chairwoman controls them—not remotely. But the fact remains that the very people propping up the kingdom share a single common denominator: Grandis Academy.
As long as she occupies the Chairwoman's seat, she can find a way to reach them. That alone would weigh on the throne.
Hence the endless maneuvering to ensure the Chairwoman stops being the Chairwoman—or at least to curtail her influence inside the academy.
"Maybe I should have accepted the title of duke they offered after the civil war and declared independence as a sovereign duchy......."
"If you had, this academy as we know it would never have materialized. The kingdom's nobles would have shunned it."
"Right, that too...... Haah."
A powerful figure drawing suspicion from central authority—that dynamic existed in every nation, every community. Even if that power wanted nothing but to be left alone, its mere existence was a threat.
And into that dynamic, the Royal Family had dispatched a condolence letter and donation—flaunting their intelligence network, practically putting it on display.
The sum, too, was far from modest.
"If we refuse only the Royal Family's donation, our total receipts drop by more than half."
"That much?"
"Admittedly, that still leaves us with half of what we've collected so far. Once word of the attack properly spreads, we'll receive considerably more."
"But if we single out the Royal Family's contribution and decline it."
"It will absolutely generate whispers."
In short, there was no perfect option. To be honest, the moment our finances had deteriorated to the point of staging a fake terror attack, the notion of a perfect option had already gone out the window.
Accept the donations, and the Royal Family would inevitably find a way to exert influence—though how, exactly, remained to be seen.
Refuse, and we'd need a commensurate justification. Turning down only the Royal Family's offering made our intent too obvious. Refusing all donations defeated the purpose of staging the attack in the first place.
Either path promised a headache, and the Chairwoman had fallen deep into thought.
"But, Chairwoman."
"Hm?"
"This is precisely the kind of work I've been drawing a salary for."
When the Chairwoman gave me a look that unmistakably said, You barely draw any salary, I answered with a confident smile. Ah, would you just play along, please.
In the current situation, any choice carried serious risk. I'd braced for exactly that when I set this scheme in motion—though the human heart is never quite so logical, is it?
We want only the choices that profit us, while shunning loss as much as possible. That's only natural.
And that, in turn, was exactly why a Finance Director existed.
"One week from now, news of this terror attack will have reached every corner of the kingdom."
"I suppose...... it will?"
"So, one week from now, we'll hold a Charity Ball."
"Pardon?"
It wasn't an odd notion in itself. Nobles frequently used balls to discuss affairs of state, solicit funding, and so on.
But for Grandis Academy, it would be a first. The academy had never needed such an event before.
'During the festival, the children of great noble houses all gather in much the same fashion.'
We would simply do it on an institutional level. Everyone who had sent these letters and donations would surely attend. Alumni, too, would turn out in force—both to support their alma mater and to seize the chance to build new connections.
In other words.
Nearly every high-ranking official and noble in the kingdom would be gathered in one place.
"So the Royal Family can't pull anything reckless. To constrain their actions as much as possible."
"............."
"We'll make the stage as big as we can."
Would the Royal Family dare any mischief in front of the assembled might of the kingdom's nobility and elite? In the same room where a king had been so cautious he personally stabbed an artifact into the Chairwoman before?
I didn't think so.
"That's the Finance Director for you! Once the donations are publicly confirmed at the ball, the Royal Family won't be able to object!"
"......There is, however, exactly one drawback to this plan."
"A drawback? Ah, is it a matter of the venue or etiquette?"
"The budget."
".........Pardon?"
"Given the multitude of nobles and influential figures expected to attend, the projected cost of the ball itself is considerable."
I meant it. Not ruinous, obviously, but an expense was still an expense.
However necessary the process, a ball was held once and gone. I hated spending money on something so ephemeral.
When I said this in all seriousness, the Chairwoman's expression turned genuinely conflicted.
"Th-then what should we do? Should I go hunt more monsters or—"
"Under normal circumstances, I would have asked exactly that, but luckily, the academy was just attacked by terrorists. And that opens up a method."
A real blessing. The Chairwoman, who had to disguise herself and conceal her power, had never been an efficient source of income anyway—whether on a deep-sea fishing vessel or a monster-extermination run. If things had gone badly, I'd have been stuck with all the paperwork by myself. A stroke of good fortune, that.
In a situation like this—
"I heard the finals were suspended due to the attack."
"Well...... yes? Though they were nearly done, so we could simply grade based on what was completed—"
"Let's resume finals."
"In the Sea of Trees? But everyone's already back."
"Instead of breaking through the Sea of Trees as originally planned, the new final exam will be rebuilding the academy."
"Ah."
"We'll award bonus points to any student who assists in restoring the buildings, by whatever method. To head off complaints about fairness, we'll cap the maximum points and make it easy to reach that cap with even minimal help."
"But wouldn't that make the grades meaningless? If every student receives the same score, nothing changes."
"If everyone does it, yes, it's equal. But anyone who doesn't do it falls behind."
Besides, even a few hours per student would suffice. Most of them had some attachment to the academy—most would step up.
And while a few hours per individual was nothing, multiplied across the entire student body, it added up to an absurd amount of labor.
Totally free of charge, naturally.
"Let's work them right up until the Charity Ball. For the noble students, especially the high-ranked ones, they'll leap at the chance to earn bonus points by helping with ball preparations. It's far easier than physical labor."
"......Later, people will say we mobilized students by dangling grades over them."
"What do you mean? Every last student 'volunteered.'"
"Uh."
"Because there is, in fact, no such thing as bonus points. Naturally, nothing will appear in the official record either. If anyone makes a stink, we toss a little candy at the students afterward in the form of scholarships once the donations are in. That'll be the end of it."
".........I think this every time, but I'm truly fortunate that you're on my side, Finance Director."
"You flatter me."
At any rate, bury it in the chaos of the attack, and it would all blow over. The Chairwoman would hang her head in a show of gratitude for the students' help, and most would be perfectly satisfied with that.
The ones who raised objections? Haha, well, their academy life might just get a touch harder from then on.
'I don't hold grudges, after all.'
If the backlash was genuinely fierce, we could simply go ahead with it and then scatter money in the form of scholarships afterward. If the donation drive succeeded, the finances would stabilize to the point where that was entirely manageable. More to the point, even that route was cheaper than hiring the Carpenter's Guild.
Good. Then I'd draw up a detailed plan——
"Cough! Hack!"
"......Chairwoman? Chairwoman!"
"Cough!!...... Haah. I may have overexerted myself a little this time."
"Are you coughing up blood?"
"It's been a long time since I channeled Rigid Energy to that extent. I think I strained my insides. Don't worry, it's not severe enough to drop me a Rank."
Even as she spoke, blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. I quickly reached out and probed various points on her body.
"F-Fi-Finance Director?!"
"Stay still."
Everything else felt normal, but there was one anomaly even a 1st Rank like me could detect.
The Chairwoman's abdomen felt utterly hollow.
"What's wrong here?"
"......I drained all the Rigid Energy I'd been storing throughout my body. With good rest, it'll recover inside a week."
"Why go this far? A man like Malton—you could have handled him without straining yourself at all."
".........He laid hands on you, didn't he. Kidnapped you, or whatever he was trying. Grabbed you by the collar. When I thought about that, I just...... lost my temper for a moment."
"Chairwoman."
If she looked at me with a grandmother's heart—fretting over her grandson—I suppose I could understand.
But this required a word of caution.
"Remember this. You are the academy itself. Never push yourself further than necessary again."
"But—"
"Promise me."
"......Yes. I understand."
She was plainly displeased, but the Chairwoman gave a docile nod. And we'd already secured her safety anyway, thanks to my hidden card.
Even if Malton had grabbed my collar or slapped my face, it probably wouldn't have mattered......Probably. Though I had no idea if that measure would hold against a 7th Rank.
After I delivered my warning, a strange atmosphere settled over the Chairwoman's office. Not that sort of strange—more like.
A calm before the storm.
"Finance, Director."
"Yes, Chairwoman?"
"There's......something I wanted to tell you."
As the Chairwoman took a step toward me, I took a step back. What was with this atmosphere all of a sudden?
My instincts screamed a warning.
"Actually, there was something I meant to say during the festival."
"During the festival?"
"But something came up, and I couldn't attend back then. So I never got to say it.........."
My intuition was shrieking at me. Don't stay here. Prepare yourself. Right now.
But something was slightly off.
The warning wasn't about the Chairwoman and this strange mood—it was about outside the window——
BOOOOM!!!!!
"Th-that tremor just now—don't tell me......!!"
"............."
Click!
I rushed to the Chairwoman's enormous window and looked outside. In the distance, smoke rose as a building collapsed. The roar and the shaking were all too familiar.
And scattered throughout the scene—
"Purple chains—Jade Shackles? And high-level fire magic...... Only two students in this academy know spells like those."
"............."
"Chairwoman, I have to go, now! I'll hear what you were saying later!"
".........Right."
So that's why my instincts had been screaming danger. The expense alarm in my head was going berserk.
I bolted from the Chairwoman's office and ran toward the epicenter of the explosion.
Things had been quiet for a while. Yes, welcome back to Grandis Academy.
Now, then.
'Chloe! Beatrice!!'
You goddamn building destroyers.
What the hell is it this time?!