Thorough Preparation (1)
The professors of the Imperial Academy were a close-knit bunch.
Part of it was the nature of their work—they were constantly seeking one another's opinions—but above all, they simply ate together often. It's hard not to grow friendly with people you share meals with.
And Luid had slipped himself right into that circle.
He wanted to know, you see, where the great river called story was currently flowing.
"We have a rather rare guest at today's lunch. Where have you been this past week?"
When Phoenicia asked lightly, Clifford answered.
"That loafer. No—honestly, I can't even bring myself to call him a loafer anymore. In any case, I suppose he was off lazing about somewhere and didn't even notice a week had passed."
Phoenicia chided him.
"Headmaster. Prince Luid is no longer a student but a professor—such language is inappropriate…"
"I know that, you ninny."
Clifford had been living a happy life of late.
Having set down the heavy burden of the headmastership, the world had never looked more beautiful. He had known that less work meant less stress, but who could have imagined the quality of life would rise this much? Clifford was actually regretting not having quit sooner.
"Besides, must I, at my age, resort to 'Prince Luid, if you please'? I absolutely refuse."
"…My apologies, Prince Luid."
"And you shouldn't grovel so much yourself. Windsor is the wind, after all. Nothing is quite as foolish as trying to catch the wind."
Phoenicia glared at him balefully.
"It's fine for you to regret it only after it's gone, is it? You were bedridden for a month. For a while there, all I heard from your dreams was 'I let a great one slip away…'"
"You ninny! When did I ever do such a thing?"
Clifford's face turned bright red.
Luid, meanwhile, let it all go in one ear and out the other as he pulled out his lunchbox.
It was the rare lunch he'd made himself. He'd been researching cooking lately.
On the menu: egg fried rice. For this, Luid had stolen eggs from the Order's chicken coop.
This is definitely going to be delicious, right?
Luid was an authority on egg fried rice.
What determines the taste of this dish?
MSG, without question.
He had produced the MSG through a week of virtual research conducted from Amelia's bed.
"Oh my, what is that?"
Phoenicia showed interest. The other professors were no different.
"I heard he's been working on dismantling the magic of poisoners by His Majesty's command. I suppose that's part of it."
"Word is that several nobles have already taken up cooking for themselves in place of poison-detection mages. As expected of Prince Luid."
"Ah, actually, that's mine. As you can see, I packed a lunch too."
One of the male professors spoke up.
A brief silence.
The female professors smoothly ignored him and turned their attention exclusively to Luid.
"Wow, it smells delicious!"
"Did you make it yourself?"
Everyone was dancing around their true intentions with polite words—when Phoenicia swiftly beat them to the punch.
"Might I have a bite, by any chance?"
Luid refused without hesitation.
"No."
"……."
If anyone ate his cooking, they would surely be ruined for all other food.
Everything else would come to seem like garbage!
And he couldn't exactly cook for them every time, so refusing was the right call.
Alright, first—a bite.
He scooped up a fluffy mound of egg fried rice with his dedicated spoon and took a bite. Mmm.
And then the umami hit him.
That's it! That's the MSG taste I wanted.
To think he could enjoy this flavor even in the medieval era?
Deeply impressed, Luid rapidly shoveled down his rice.
The research was a resounding success.
When Luid, who normally showed almost no emotion, reacted like this, the other professors burned with curiosity.
Gulp.
And besides, it looked incredibly appetizing.
Phoenicia, her face flushed from the rejection, quickly changed the subject.
"…Everyone, let's stop pestering Prince Luid and have a constructive conversation."
"Ahem, couldn't that wait for the next meeting…"
The professors who wanted to eat their lunch in peace glanced nervously at Phoenicia.
"No. In an Academy undergoing such upheaval, there is no 'later.' We must respond to every moment as it comes."
"…It's only exam preparation, though. I don't see the need to respond moment by moment."
When Instructor Torres of the swordsmanship staff said this under his breath, Phoenicia's eyes lit up like fire.
"Only?? Only? Instructor Torres, I'm truly hurt. Is our Imperial Academy's exam period something to be dismissed as 'only'?"
The Imperial Academy was currently in its exam period.
The approaching Comprehensive Evaluation.
Unlike the midterm tests they'd taken before, this was the exam worthy of being called the main event.
There would be written tests, of course, and a simple check of combat ability, but above all came the flower of the Comprehensive Evaluation: the practical assessment.
The students would be given some mission, and the faculty would observe whether they navigated it safely.
So the real prologue begins.
And it was also—the true starting line of the story.
Everything until now had been Act One: the bumbling Justin adapting to the Academy, coming to understand the contradictions and flaws in its system…
From here on, direct threats would close in.
The mastermind would run rampant, and just before it could swallow the Academy whole, Justin would resolve everything magnificently.
The Justin who had until now been nothing more than Commoner Number One, drifting through life, would finally become the righteous protagonist.
Good timing, honestly. The poor guy's had it rough lately.
Luid sincerely rooted for Justin.
Of course, he wouldn't lift a finger to help. Luid disliked Justin.
"Urgh, so does that mean overtime for us?"
"I hate this so much."
"Your wife is going to kill you."
The sorrow of public servants…
Luid sympathized. Phoenicia showed no mercy whatsoever.
"I'll at least accept your last will and testament."
"Usually in situations like that, you offer to reduce working hours instead, Vice Headmaster…?"
"Nothing of the sort. The Imperial Academy is built by grinding up the labor of its professors."
"Our Vice Headmaster is too much."
She really is too much.
Phoenicia was being utterly inflexible. For a moment, she looked exactly like Clifford.
"Your overtime pay will be five times the standard rate."
"I'm sorry?"
"F-Five times?"
"Really? Last year it was only one and a half times…"
"Fair compensation for honest work is only natural. I have no intention of neglecting your labor."
The professors were stunned—and so was Luid.
Man, this is an absolute racket.
Even a major corporation's benefits package couldn't touch this. Five times was enormous.
But wait—one and a half times last year means… this old geezer really is a miser after all.
When Luid shot him a sidelong glance, Clifford cleared his throat needlessly and took a drink of water.
"I'll gladly bury my bones here!"
"I swear my loyalty!"
"Honestly, I thought the Vice Headmaster was more capable than the Headmaster from the very start."
"Why, you little—!"
You could practically hear Phoenicia's trust rating ticking upward.
Sure, people went on about age and dignity and whatnot, but nothing beat a boss who paid well.
Luid's cooking class opened after roughly two weeks.
Standing at the podium, Luid glared at Amelia. They had made up, but this incident had made one thing crystal clear.
Amelia was an idiot.
"Today we're doing something other than cooking."
"Something other than cooking?"
"Yep. Today, it's magic."
Luid's cooking class.
But its official title was, in fact, Magic Class.
The actual lecture report read: "Exploring a variety of subjects, with particular emphasis on a progressive curriculum that shatters the prejudices prevalent in our era."
How anyone believed that, I'll never know.
A considerable storm was about to hit, and until now his attitude had been "Amelia will figure something out." But now he understood why, in the original novel, Amelia had been treated as barely relevant despite possessing considerable power.
Because for all her impressive physique, she was a fool. Luid regretted having played at the anime reenactments he and Amelia had enjoyed in their past life. Our Saber-chan was never that dumb.
And so, having lost all faith in Amelia, Luid resolved to raise the overall level of everyone around him.
Half the people attending this class were precious to him, after all. There was nothing bad about the people he cared about growing stronger.
"In exchange, I want one promise. Whatever I teach you, you never breathe a word of it to anyone, and you use it only in pursuit of your own desires."
The students were half thrilled, half bewildered.
Use it for personal greed? What did that mean?
"It means: don't stick your neck out. No matter what happens, react only to danger that's right in front of you."
Even so, the students didn't really understand. They were convinced some hidden meaning lay beneath his words. Only Damon muttered quietly to himself, Why is he stating the obvious?
Luid repeated himself, his face full of irritation.
"If you don't understand, memorize it. Use your power for yourselves and yourselves alone. Repeat it three times."
The students were a little flustered, but they followed Luid's lead.
"Use your power for yourselves and yourselves alone."
Well, aren't they obedient.
Slightly mollified, Luid drew a line on the magic board. At that moment, Gilbert raised his hand.
"Should the Swordsmanship Club simply remain idle during this lesson, sir?"
It was a genuine question. Luid had said he would be teaching magic.
"A truly excellent knight must also know how to fight against mages. Understanding the principles behind their power makes them far easier to defeat."
Amelia said this with all the maturity of an adult, then looked at Luid with an expression that practically shouted, Didn't I do well? Luid thought Amelia was exactly like a golden retriever.
"Nope. I'm going to teach magic that knights can use too."
"I beg your pardon?"
Gilbert was flustered. Not just Gilbert—everyone was.
A knight could never use magic. It came down to a difference in how mana was gathered. A knight refined mana once through special breathing techniques and gathered it in the lower dantian, whereas a mage formed rings around the heart that allowed mana to circulate.
To put it in terms of an automobile: the number of rings was the engine (output), and the precision of the rings was the mana (fuel efficiency).
More rings meant the ability to cast more powerful spells, while superior technique in forming those rings reduced the amount of mana consumed.
For the record, Luid had been born with mana so far beyond spec that such parlor tricks were entirely beneath him.
In any case, for those reasons, knights could not use magic.
"Follow along."
But the word magic carried two meanings.
And Luid, a true grandmaster of magic, was capable of using both.
"Magic is gear."
"Magic is… gear…?"
The students echoed him absentmindedly, then made baffled faces.
"Pardon?"
Luid answered only with action. He stretched his hand into empty air. Space tore open, revealing his subspace. And then—
Crash!
A torrent of armaments came pouring out!
They were the goods he'd liberally borrowed(?) from the Imperial Treasury.
Luid said, with impeccable coolness:
"Take one each."
"……!"
The students' eyes flew wide open.
Luid lay sprawled in a wide, open field. At Delin's Lake, for the first time in a while.
Beside him, Hershey lay in exactly the same pose as always. She beamed at him with a sly little smile.
"By the way, Luid. I remember you saying you'd speak to us only in formal address, but you conducted this last lesson entirely casually. Have we grown on you a little?"
"Hmm…?"
Luid answered in a languid voice.
"Forgot."
"……."
A perfectly Luid-like answer.
Hershey cleared her throat and slipped in a careful remark.
"Well, um… you did say during the last lesson that you had something set aside especially for me. Ahem."
It felt vaguely mercenary, so she had hesitated to bring it up—but her curiosity had won out in the end.
What on earth could Luid possibly have for her?
"Oh, right."
…He'd forgotten that too, hasn't he.
Hershey made a rueful face.
Luid pulled something from inside his coat and poked her gently on the cheek.
Hard wood.
She turned to look—it was a staff.
A staff radiating a distinctly extraordinary light.
"This is…?"
"A staff that's somewhat usable. Keep it for emergencies."
What Luid handed over to Hershey—
was the Staff of Dellin.