Tender Strokes and Tactical Schemes
Aren lavished Veronica with plenty of head pats in preparation for the inter-year competition. Perhaps because she was getting ready to leave the shelter of her family soon, she seemed terribly distraught. Of course, being a fundamentally strong woman, she still appeared cold, curt, and prickly on the surface…
"…What are you doing."
"Stroking your hair, obviously?"
"So why are you stroking my hair?"
"Because I want to?"
In truth, she didn't do anything about it. She neither rejected his touch nor swatted his hand away. Nothing at all.
"…We're all supposed to gather for training soon, and it'll mess up my hair, so stop now."
"It'll get messed up during training anyway, so what's the difference?"
"……"
She let out a small sigh. And then.
"…Fine, just a little then."
"Got it."
"I mean it—just a little. As thanks for all the hard work you did for me…"
"Yeah, yeah, I got it."
Like this, she was gradually opening her heart to Aren and leaning on him.
…His touch is warm.
Aren was filling all the voids she'd felt in the Adel Adler ducal household. Unlike the duchess who hid daggers in her smiles and her maids who wore masks, or her brother Rudolph who always dismissed her with cold stares, he looked at her with eyes full of affection… and though his touch was a bit lecherous, it brimmed with love as he stroked her.
……
The man named Aren was filling the chronic emptiness in her heart.
"…That's enough stroking now. Time's up. Lydia's probably waiting."
"Can't I stroke a bit more? It's so soft and feels great."
She hesitated for a moment, then shook her head.
"…No."
Her eyes captured Aren's face, brimming with regret. After a brief moment of contemplation—
"…After training's over, you can touch again, so stop for now."
"…Oh."
Now that's a total win.
Legally grope away… heh heh heh. Aren chuckled inwardly and nodded. With that, the two withdrew their hands from her hair and joined Lydia on the way to the training grounds.
Not the private one Veronica and I used often, but the large arena assigned to the first-year united representative team.
For reference, that's where they'd selected the first-year united rep team leader yesterday too.
As they headed toward the large arena…
"Um…"
Lydia glanced at Veronica and spoke up.
"Hm? What's up?"
"Nothing much, but Veronica's hair looks a bit messy…"
At those words, Veronica flinched and covered her hair with her hand. She shot Aren a subtle glare.
Receiving her sharp look, Aren replied with a voice laced with amusement.
"Ah, that's just from me stroking it."
"Aha…?"
"……!"
Veronica made a flustered face, not expecting him to say it straight out—but
"Her hair was really soft. Just like yours, Lydia."
Aren was oblivious.
The main wives should get along, right?
He was only harboring cheeky thoughts that would earn him a smack on the back if she heard them.
However, there was an unforeseen variable she hadn't anticipated… Lydia had already fallen for Aren too.
"Is that so?"
"Yeah."
Aren nodded without hesitation.
Lydia instinctively sensed that Veronica was falling for Aren. In that case… this was her moment to appeal to him as a woman.
"…Then, want to touch something even softer later, Aren?"
Squish—
His arm slipped between her breasts. Her ample bosom softly enveloped his arm.
"………!!"
Veronica was aghast at Lydia's boldness. She had no idea. That Lydia and Aren had already crossed that line long ago—that while she was still snapping at him, Lydia had already climbed onto the stove first.
She'd sensed from a woman's intuition that Lydia seemed to like Aren, but…
…No way.
To think it was this serious…!
"Then, shall we meet in the dorm after training?"
…Wait, no?
"Sure, I'd love that…"
Lydia replied, her face flushing red.
…
That day, Veronica's world crumbled.
Aren's group arrived at the training grounds, sparing only a brief puzzled glance at the suddenly quiet Veronica.
"…You're late. Everyone's been waiting. Didn't it occur to you to come early?"
The Crown Prince, who had arrived first, sneered.
He must still be sore about losing the representative spot.
Even if he got it, Adelia wouldn't give him the time of day anyway.
Sheesh. The Crown Prince was clueless about women—hopelessly clueless. Wasting emotions sniping at us like this.
Eh? That's a total loss for him.
…Of course, yesterday we'd already crushed his pride and chucked some feminist ideals at him to boot… but whatever, not my problem.
Aren stepped forward with a shameless grin.
"We came right on time for the appointed hour, so we're not late."
"That's the problem! Who shows up exactly on time? Coming early is basic courtesy—don't you know that?"
…Oh?
The Crown Prince saying that?
What? Is that really him?
Honestly, in Aren's view, it wasn't something the Crown Prince should say. After all, this was the Empire with its rigid class system. Imperial royals at the pinnacle—or any real power players—rarely kept to schedules. Showing up late was one way to display the hierarchy of power.
So he glanced around at the other students, wondering if imperial etiquette differed from the East somehow…
"……"
"…?"
"H-His Highness has changed?"
Everyone stared at the Crown Prince like he'd grown a second head. Their eyes screamed, You, of all people?
…He's just venting frustration at us, huh?
Well, well. The more he did that, the less appealing he seemed as a man. The Crown Prince really was clueless.
Did he think brute force solved everything?
Well, yeah—he's your typical romance-fantasy male lead.
"…Why are you looking at me like that?"
"It's nothing."
"…Doesn't seem like nothing."
"It's nothing, so don't worry about it."
Aren brushed off the Crown Prince, who was still glaring daggers. With the brief commotion over, training finally began.
First up: setting the first-year united rep team's policy, centered on their leader, Veronica.
The one playing the biggest role here? None other than Aren himself.
"In actual combat, a small group of spirit mages and wizards will defend our main base, while the rest of our forces move to capture the second-years' stronghold."
The key players here would be the magic department and the martial arts department.
"Magic department students at the base will provide covering fire from the rear to sweep the front lines, then our sturdy martial arts close-combat forces will charge straight into the enemy base."
At first glance, it was a standard tactic—straight out of Earth playbooks or this world alike. Mages as artillery, martial arts students as tanks, followed by knight and swordsmanship students as infantry.
"The crucial part is detaching a small squad of swordsmen for an airborne assault."
"……?"
Airborne assault.
That phrase alone put question marks over everyone's heads.
In Earth terms, it meant dropping special forces behind enemy lines while frontline troops drew attention…
"We'll use spirits for that."
"!!!"
Aren thought of Adelia's spirit.
That thing looked like it could carry people and fly, right?
And if needed, magic could handle it too.
Once he laid out his idea, admiration lit up everyone's faces.
Of course, all these strategies were meaningless without overwhelming force to turn the tide. The reason they were bothering with plans and drills anyway…
I can't participate in the first half.
It was due to the inter-year competition rules.
Apparently to balance things, the academy had decreed that each team's top fighter could only join in the second half.
So we have to crush the second-years in the first half without me.
Strategy was essential.
Anyway.
"Hold on."
"?"
"Why are you, the chief, deciding this?"
The Crown Prince interrupted. Ignoring the actual leader Veronica to question why Aren was taking charge.
On the surface, it sounded reasonable.
However.
"Aren is my strategist, Your Highness."
Veronica wedged herself between the Crown Prince and Aren.
She instantly locked into a battle of wills with him.
"I asked him to. Is there a problem?"
"……!"
The Crown Prince faltered. He hadn't expected a noble to stand up to him like this.
But his fluster was short-lived; he started grasping for a counterargument. He'd already been needled since yesterday—he couldn't back down here too.
Then he spotted Aren peeking out from behind Veronica with a sly remark, and his blood pressure spiked.
"Aha? You can't accept me as Veronica's strategist, can you?"
Anyone could see it. The Crown Prince's face screamed utter disbelief.
But what can you do about it?
Unfortunately for the Crown Prince, Aren was—
"The chief."
What did chief mean?
"It means the top student. I aced both practicals and theory."
The students thought he'd snagged chief through sheer brute force, thanks to that duel with Ferris at the semester start and the midterms practical—but that was a huge misconception. His scores were perfect in both.
Otherwise, someone would've taken the spot long ago.
"Sadly, I'm pretty smart too."
…Of course, tactical acumen and raw brains weren't the same, but the point was that Aren's proposed strategy seemed viable. His chief title just boosted its credibility.
"So, convinced yet?"
"……"
In the end, the Crown Prince had no choice but to shut up.
Another loss for the Crown Prince. Scratches piled up on his pride.