9. Black and Gold (5)
9. Black and Gold (5)
Rekachev Circus School was founded twenty-eight years ago.
At the time, the emperor had spent nearly half a century doing everything in his power to break the Church's influence.
He abolished the bishop's sermons that had been mandatory at every imperial function and slotted a jester's satirical skit into its place. Corrupt nobles and clergy were the primary targets of the mockery.
He went further, encouraging people to go to the theater on Sundays instead of church. In the capital, he personally acted as patron to construct a national theater.
The most radical move of all was buying up historic cathedrals and converting them into theaters.
St. Victor's Cathedral in Yeterinpurk was one of those to suffer that fate.
St. Victor's Cathedral had been erected on the very spot where Saint Victor had given free aid to the sick and the poor. Its nickname, the Palace of Miracles, came from his legendary feats — making the lame stand and the blind see.
Once the emperor seized ownership of the Palace of Miracles, he dispatched his court jester as its steward and turned it into a training ground for acrobats.
The jester summoned every painter in the city and had them coat the once-pristine white cathedral in a riot of garish colors.
Then he recruited five of the era's most celebrated acrobats to serve as its faculty.
From one jester and five acrobats, Rekachev Circus School was born.
The Church warned that the emperor's actions would resurrect the Dark Ages, when Abyss demons rampaged across the earth — but decades passed, and no such thing occurred.
The emperor believed that the advancement of education and technology would strengthen humanity's spiritual power and conquer its fear of the dark.
Among the intelligentsia, it was even said that books and electric lights were the things Abyss demons feared most. By that measure, the emperor was a man of genuine foresight.
The statue of the emperor standing before the circus school was erected with that history in mind.
The building that old Yeterinpurk natives still called the Palace of Miracles was swarming with people.
Tourists had flocked here to watch the competitions ever since the Circus Grand Prix began, but today the crowd was several times its usual size.
Teenagers made up an unusually high proportion of it.
Dressed in colorful clothes, they were visibly tense under the gaze of the tourists and acrobats watching them.
The circus troupes staying in Yeterinpurk had held off on making hasty recruitment offers and waited for this day for one reason.
Today was the day of Rekachev Circus School's New Student Selection Test.
Rekachev had a sterling reputation for producing exceptional acrobats year after year.
Nearly half of the current star performers were Rekachev graduates.
Among the teenagers who had come to apply were the children of major troupe leaders and the disciples of famous acrobats.
The Grand Prix participants were here to scout the students who scored highest on the entrance exam.
A Rekachev admission was a prize anyone would covet, but competing in the Circus Grand Prix was no lesser honor.
And to advance to the finals and stand on the Wonder Stage at the Sky City Hippodrome?
That was a glory no acrobat would ever refuse.
Normally, Rekachev would never permit such blatant scouting activity.
But with its selection as one of the Six Great Theaters, the school had temporarily allowed scouting for the duration of the Grand Prix.
In fact, it had proactively instituted a draft system to protect its sheltered students from unfair contracts.
And so, by the rules of the draft, the circus people attending the exam were forbidden from approaching the students until the testing was over. All they could do was watch.
Once they'd finished registering, the tension among the applicants finally loosened a little, and they struck up conversations with the others nearby.
They chattered about their specialties, what kind of acrobat they hoped to become, whether they intended to enroll or join a troupe directly, and which circus they had their eye on.
Many of the children who came here had lived lives far removed from ordinary peers. Perhaps because of that, they took genuine delight in the simple fact of being surrounded by so many like-minded friends.
Then a girl pointed somewhere and shouted.
"It's the Golden Carnival!"
The chatting children — and the adults observing them — all turned their heads toward where she was pointing.
The Golden Carnival.
One of the three troupes to receive a three-star rating from the Christian Guide.
A project-based dream team led by the industry's reigning No. 1 magician, Lord Fantastic.
They'd heard the Golden Carnival was in Yeterinpurk.
Could Lord Fantastic himself have come?
The plaza in front of the school fell silent in an instant.
The troupe members who had drawn every eye in the crowd looked baffled.
A blonde magician in a black cloak, an old man with leathery, sun-scorched skin, a clown in a skull mask, a woman wrapped head to toe in heavy clothes despite the midsummer heat, and two teenage girls.
"Who... are you?"
"The Golden Carnival?"
"You know, the one I told you about. One of the three-star troupes."
"One of the championship favorites."
"But why would they say that about us...?"
Wonderstein watched the girl who had pointed at them and shouted — she was doubled over, cackling with laughter.
"Heh. Looks like we've got a prankster on our hands."
In TT2, this place, like the Rose Windmill Cabaret, had been turned into a monster den by the jewel housing Wonderstein's soul.
The bosses and elites here had mostly been professors and students.
Still, Wonderstein hadn't expected to run into any students he knew.
TT2's story was set four years in the future.
They hadn't even enrolled yet.
'Not yet.'
The girl who had just pranked thousands of people at once was an upperclassman named character in the game.
She was a clown nicknamed the Shepherd Girl, who'd minored in taming and ran with wolves.
Those who finally realized they'd been duped stared at the girl and let out deflated sighs.
"Honestly, pranks. Always pranks. This is exactly why I can't stand clowns!"
"Khee-hee, I like it. A clown ought to run their mouth even in front of the emperor, I say!"
"A child with no sense of time and place. She'll make enemies. Does she not want to get picked?"
"I see it the other way. She got her face out there, didn't she? If she did that on purpose, she's a clever little thing."
Even as they grumbled about the Shepherd Girl, the crowd talked about the people her prank had thrust into the spotlight.
"But who are they?"
"The man is awfully handsome!"
"Oh, I know them. That trial at the Rouge opening ceremony!"
"What was the name again...?"
"Frank Wonderstein!"
"Right! The jester of the Monster Circus! Wonderstein!"
"Is the girl next to him that Deputy Leader, the little clown lady?"
"Wait, then the one in the skull mask is..."
Ella smiled as she watched the people pointing and whispering about them.
They had been nobodies, and now they were this famous.
Some people recognized her, not just Wonderstein. A few were even piecing together the identities of Sven and Yurakne.
To be fair, the ones with that level of detailed knowledge were industry insiders rather than casual spectators, but even so, Ella felt a swell of pride.
"Wonderstein Circus Troupe, coming through!"
Ella took the lead, making an exaggerated show of shooing away people who weren't even really blocking the path.
Now that attention was on them, she meant to make sure the name landed in their ears at least one more time.
She spotted the Shepherd Girl flashing a V-sign from a distance and gave her a thumbs-up in return.
Meanwhile, the actual Golden Carnival — entering from the opposite direction — found themselves thrown off by the unexpected development. They had just revealed themselves, and people were beginning to recognize them, the spotlight moments away from landing — when some clown brat among the examinees spotted them, pointed the other way, and dragged every pair of eyes in the opposite direction.
Only once the Golden Carnival was halfway across the grounds did anyone even notice they had arrived.
"What, they're right here."
"Hey, the real Golden Carnival is over here!"
But whether it was the Shepherd Girl's doing or not, the crowd's attention turned sluggishly, and the reaction was tepid compared to what they'd expected. Drawing notice now, after Wonderstein had already stolen the impact of the first entrance, felt pointless. The moment had already gone flat.
Lord Fantastic's face was smiling, but his mustache quivered with rage.
"Father..."
Reina, standing beside him, tried to soothe him — and made it worse.
Fantastic fixed her with a glacial glare.
"In public, it's 'Troupe Leader.'"
"...Yes, Troupe Leader."
"How many times do I have to tell you? You dim-witted girl."
He tossed the words over his shoulder and strode off toward a man who looked like a professor standing in front of the school building, his golden cape flapping behind him.
"Well now, quite the gathering of promising new talent again this year, isn't it?"
Lord Fantastic was a man who could put on any face he needed.
He shook the professor's hand with the warmth of an old hometown friend, then surveyed the examinees.
The awe in the eyes watching him deepened.
That was exactly what he'd intended.
By flaunting his familiarity with the faculty in front of fledglings who hadn't even passed the entrance exam yet, he made them feel the vast gulf in status.
He possessed top-tier skill, and yet he never hesitated to employ strategy.
To him, performances, festivals, even raising a child — everything was a contest.
"Reina, are you all right?"
A limping man in his thirties from the Golden Carnival approached her.
He positioned himself to shield her face from the crowd with his back and whispered.
Reina gave him a faint, lonely smile.
"I'm fine. It's not like it's the first time he's acted like that. The man's obsessed with the circus."
"Ah..."
The lame man made an awkward sound. Her mouth had spat the words out viciously, but her eyes glistened.
"Let's go. Lord Fantastic's daughter can't be seen looking glum, can she?"
As she walked past him, Reina wiped her expression clean.
She became the haughty, aloof Golden Libra once more.
Like a noble lady on a slum-inspection tour, she lifted her chin and swept an arrogant gaze over the children gathered in front of the school.
"Wow, who is that?"
"She's gorgeous."
"You know. Lord Fantastic's daughter."
"Ah, the Golden Libra..."
"Insufferable. My dad compares me to her so much I've got calluses in my ears."
"Could we ever be like that?"
Before the crowd, her expression held not a single crack.
Up above the school building, a group of students looked down at her.
"Ugh, why does that girl have to act so stuck-up?"
"'Golden Libra' — please. Hmph. She already got beaten once by Charlie."
The students, having finished helping the professors prepare the exams, had come up to the upper floor to look down at the grounds and give their unsolicited commentary on everyone below.
This year's applicants looked listless.
If they ever faced that troupe, they'd wipe the floor with them, from the troupe leader on down.
That spectator over there seemed more interested in what was under the women's skirts than the circus.
When they spotted Reina, Lord Fantastic's daughter, the chattering turned to the legendary entrance exam story that had been passed down from four years ago.
Lord Fantastic had brought his daughter then, too.
His plan had been to humiliate Rekachev by having his handcrafted masterpiece score the highest marks in every subject of the entrance exam.
To show them that this was the best the industry's top academy could do.
And it had nearly worked.
Reina had shattered the previous top scorer's record.
But then a newcomer had appeared like a comet.
That was Charlie.
He had no parents, and his teacher was no famous acrobat.
He came from some no-name rural circus school — one of the many that had sprouted up after the terrorist attack seventeen years ago to fill the shortage of acrobats.
And that country bumpkin had beaten Reina, the one they called the Golden Libra.
Out of twenty-five exam tasks, he'd bested her thirteen to twelve.