The Sorrowful Cry of the Crow (3)
Late that night, long after the selection matches had drawn to a close, Deleve returned to his dormitory room.
He shook the lingering dampness from his sleek blond hair and collapsed face-first onto his bed.
“Ugh, I’m exhausted.”
Yet despite the bone-deep fatigue, sleep refused to come.
Why on earth did Yon do it?
He had crossed paths with Yon a handful of times during their childhood, and their respective households had engaged in social exchanges over the years. While neither their families nor the two boys themselves were intimately close, they certainly weren’t total strangers either. So what drove him to it?
Five hundred thousand cel…
To House Kundel, it was pocket change. Had Yon truly been desperate enough to throw everything away for such a sum? Deleve recalled hearing rumors that House Riversong was teetering on the brink of bankruptcy, but even so, the betrayal stung.
Even with all that, how could he?
Deleve wasn’t devoid of fury. He had come within a hair’s breadth of suffering humiliating defeat at Yon’s hands—a disgrace Celia would have used to torment him for the rest of his natural life. What boiled his blood even hotter was the realization that, had things gone as planned, he would have lost without ever understanding why, completely oblivious to the vile trick played upon him.
“Whew.”
In the past, he would have stormed straight to Yon’s quarters to beat the living daylights out of him or scream until his lungs gave out.
Look at you, Deleve. You’ve matured.
A modest swell of self-satisfaction warmed his chest. In truth, he couldn’t go confront him anyway, seeing as Yon was currently locked away in the custody of the Academy Guard. Still, if his older brothers had witnessed this restraint, they might have finally admitted that their youngest was capable of actual thought.
“Wait a minute…”
A sudden question cut through his reverie.
“How did he even catch that?”
How on earth had Instructor Xiel managed to see it in the middle of a high-speed clash?
“His speed made no damn sense.”
Looking back, that was the honest truth. Deleve had been far more shocked by the sheer velocity of Xiel’s intervention than by the presence of the paralytic poison itself. The instructor had clearly been standing a fair distance away, yet in the space of a single breath, he had slipped between them and neutralized the strike with surgical precision.
“Who in the world is that guy?”
Come to think of it, Deleve had been so flustered in the aftermath that he hadn’t even thanked him properly. If Instructor Xiel hadn’t stepped in…
“Ugh.” A shudder ran down his spine, followed immediately by an even deeper wellspring of respect. He resolved to recount the entire ordeal in the letter he planned to send his father tomorrow.
“Hmm.”
The more Deleve thought about it, the more astonishing the day’s outcome seemed. Just as the instructor had declared, every single one of the ten students taking his elective had qualified.
It’s one thing for me or Celia…
But even Karen and Yurio—students whose entrance exam scores had scraped the very bottom of the barrel—had earned spots on the roster. The relentless stamina drills, the endless reflex conditioning… every single bizarre exercise had served a purpose.
When Deleve pictured Xiel in his mind’s eye, the instructor’s deadpan visage was obscured by a blinding halo.
“A beacon of light…”
It was as if he were basking in divine grace! His heart pounded with soaring anticipation.
As long as I follow Instructor Xiel’s guidance…
He could surpass his brothers. And once he did, they would finally treat him as an equal again. The moment he had left for the academy, they had started dismissing him like a brat, shutting him out of their sparring and conversations. Imagining the look of sheer shock on their faces made his pulse race.
Deleve shot bolt upright from the mattress.
There was no way he could fall asleep like this. He needed to sweat out the lingering bitterness of the day through training. The urge to swing a wooden sword until exhaustion claimed him was too overpowering to ignore.
“All right, let’s do this.”
He glanced toward the window. His room happened to overlook the quiet dormitory courtyard—the very spot where he had gained the crucial epiphany for the Seventh Form of the Kundel Heavy Sword Style, sparked by none other than Instructor Xiel.
He would train down there. He could slip out quietly without anyone noticing.
“Huh?”
Right as he moved toward the window, a silhouette caught his eye, slipping stealthily through the courtyard below.
Who’s that?
The figure moved with exaggerated caution, practically radiating suspicion. Then, for a fleeting heartbeat, the drifting clouds parted, allowing silver moonlight to wash over the grass.
In that solitary instant, Deleve caught a clear glimpse of the person’s face. He tilted his head in bewilderment.
“Wait… what?”
Why would he be here?
The figure quickly cleared the courtyard and vanished toward the north—the exact direction of the Academy Guard Post.
“……”
Deleve stood frozen in thought for a moment before giving a careless shrug.
“Well, I’m sure he has his reasons.”
He picked up his training sword. Right now, shaking off his restlessness took priority over wondering about late-night wanderers.
The following morning, the atmosphere across the Sword School was buzzing with anticipation for the upcoming Exchange Event. Yet running beneath that excitement was a turbulent undercurrent of gossip surrounding the previous day’s first-year selections.
Incidents and minor disputes were common enough during selection matches across all years, but an altercation involving a high noble like Deleve Kundel carried enormous weight. The rumor mill was churning at full tilt.
Some claimed Yon had tried to assassinate Deleve outright. Others whispered that House Riversong was plotting treason against the empire, or that House Kundel had already issued a blood duel challenge to the Riversongs.
“We need to set the record straight before these unfounded rumors spin completely out of control.”
The voice belonged to Dean Berhal Abuera, and at his stern pronouncement, the murmuring professors fell instantly silent. Every full faculty member of the Sword School had gathered in the conference chamber, marking the first full assembly since their last regular monthly meeting.
“Today’s emergency faculty meeting has been convened to address yesterday’s incident during the first-year selection tournament.”
And sitting quietly among them was Xiel.
“This is Instructor Xiel Steelheart, who oversees our first-year elective curriculum. He has been asked to attend today’s emergency session to provide his eyewitness testimony regarding the events.”
Under normal circumstances, elective lecturers and teaching assistants were strictly barred from faculty meetings, but this was an extraordinary exception.
“I am Xiel Steelheart.”
His flat, indifferent greeting drew every eye in the room, though only for a brief moment before Berhal pressed forward.
“Let us begin with the findings from the Academy Guard’s interrogation. What is the current status, Professor Dakeus?”
“Yes. For the time being, Cadet Yon Riversong continues to deny the primary allegations, offering nothing but falsehoods.”
“Falsehoods? Meaning what, exactly?”
“He claims that someone else put him up to it. However, seeing as he cannot identify who this supposed mastermind is, his testimony lacks any credibility. It appears to be nothing more than a pathetic attempt to evade disciplinary punishment.”
“Hmm.” Dean Berhal turned a page of the report handed to him prior to the meeting. “And is this suspicion an official finding, or merely Professor Dakeus’s personal opinion?”
“It is my professional assessment. Though I am certain anyone looking at the facts would arrive at the same conclusion.”
“Is that so? From where I sit, I don’t believe we can entirely rule out the possibility that he was coerced or manipulated.”
“Pardon?”
“That would not absolve Cadet Yon Riversong of his crime, of course. But disregarding the possibility altogether would be equally irresponsible, would it not?”
Dakeus stiffened. The department head’s reasoning was logically sound, but it ran completely counter to what he needed to happen.
Damn this old bastard…
“We must examine this matter with a cool head,” Berhal continued, his tone measured and unyielding. “It is an undeniable fact that Cadet Yon Riversong attempted an illicit attack on Cadet Deleve Kundel. However, we must determine whether his motive was born of his own volition or dictated by external pressure.”
“It was obviously of his own free will—”
“How can you be so certain of what was in his heart, Professor Dakeus?”
“……”
“The ramifications of this case are severe. Which is precisely why we must remain dispassionate.” Berhal shifted his gaze across the long table toward Xiel. “What are your thoughts on the matter, Instructor Xiel?”
The sudden question, directed squarely at a mere elective lecturer, sent a ripple of surprise through the room. The professors who had been present at the arena remembered how much interest Berhal had shown in the young man yesterday.
Is he trying to bring Steelheart into his inner circle?
Unbelievable. To be invited into an executive meeting and asked for his opinion directly by the department head…
Back in my day, an elective lecturer wouldn’t even dare breathe the same air as the dean…
Amid envious glares, Berhal offered a faint, enigmatic smile.
“You were closest to the action, were you not, Instructor Xiel? Furthermore, had you not intervened, an irreversible tragedy might have occurred. Thus, I would value your perspective.”
Quick, just nod and agree with the department head!
He’s a contract climber. His answer is obvious.
The surrounding faculty watched with bated breath, but Xiel’s reply took a completely unexpected direction.
“It is not my place to judge what is right or wrong.”
It was a total non sequitur. The professors blinked in utter disbelief.
Everyone, that is, except Berhal.
“Not your place to judge?”
“I simply prevented a student from getting hurt.”
A blunt, emotionless answer stripped of all rhetorical polish. To the assembled faculty, it sounded dangerously close to an outright refusal to answer the department head’s inquiry. Several gasped, expecting a reprimand, but—
“It seems my question was poorly framed, Instructor Xiel. My apologies. You are quite right—it is not for us to jump to conclusions regarding whether it was voluntary or coerced. What matters most is that, thanks to your vigilance, Cadet Deleve was spared injury, and Cadet Yon’s offense remained an attempted one.”
At Berhal’s warm praise, the professors quickly adjusted their expressions, chiming in with strained chuckles.
“Q-Quite right, haha. If not for Instructor Xiel, we would have had a catastrophe on our hands.”
“Truly impressive. When was the last time we saw an elective lecturer with such remarkable reflexes? Ha, haha…”
Before the sycophancy could swell, Berhal delivered a cutting remark.
“Instructor Xiel performed a duty that should have fallen to someone else.”
Several professors flinched, their smiles freezing. Berhal said nothing more, but the silence pressed heavily against their chests.
I heard catching that blade in mid-strike was superhuman…
Sitting here feels like sitting on a bed of nails.
Berhal looked over his colleagues and clicked his tongue inwardly.
Obsessed with nothing but saving their own skins.
They were second, third, or fourth sons of noble blood who had fled family politics for comfortable academic sinecures, so their cowardice was understandable. Even so, not a single one among them commanded respect. Every last one of them cared only about clinging to their titles and flattering whoever held power.
In contrast…
He truly is an intriguing instructor.
Berhal found himself taking a genuine liking to Xiel. At the very least, the young man refused to peddle cheap flattery.
Steelheart, was it…? Where have I heard that name before?
Berhal cleared his throat and addressed the room once more. “So, what are the council’s thoughts moving forward?”
“I agree with the department head! We must not rush to judgment. Perhaps we should table the disciplinary ruling regarding Cadet Yon for the time being?”
“Indeed. It would be far wiser to conduct an exhaustive investigation while holding final judgment in reserve.”
“Cadet Yon Riversong undeniably committed a grave error, but if there is truly an instigator pulling the strings from the shadows, we must drag them into the daylight!”
Sensing the shift in the wind, the professors scrambled to echo Berhal’s sentiments.
Why is the dean suddenly steering the room like this…?
Dakeus felt panic clawing at his throat. He had never anticipated the consensus of the faculty—the very body holding disciplinary authority—turning so completely against his intended narrative. He had walked into this meeting expecting Yon’s immediate expulsion, or at the bare minimum, an indefinite suspension that would silence him permanently.
How had the conversation derailed so terribly?
“Department Head, rather than leaving this to the guard, why don’t we summon Cadet Yon and conduct our own independent inquiry? The guard’s methods can be terribly heavy-handed! He is only a first-year boy, and if he truly acted under duress… one can’t help but pity him.”
The room had swung so far that professors were now openly expressing sympathy for the boy. Berhal let out a quiet scoff at the spectacle, then turned his gaze toward Professor Elkanto.
“Professor Elkanto?”
“……”
“Professor Elkanto?”
“Ah! Y-Yes! My apologies, Department Head!”
“You have been remarkably quiet today. Were you not present at the arena when the incident unfolded?”
“Ah, well, as for me…”
Elkanto was uncharacteristically subdued. A heavy shadow hung over his fleshy features, his brow furrowed with immense dread. In truth, he hadn’t absorbed a single word since the session had begun.
I’m going to lose my goddamn mind.
He had spent the entire night trembling in a cold sweat, unable to close his eyes for even a second. His mind felt like thick sludge.
“Is something troubling you?” Berhal asked, noting his pale complexion.
Right at that moment—
Knock, knock.
A sharp rap echoed against the heavy double doors of the conference chamber. Every head snapped toward the sound. Interrupting an executive faculty session was virtually unheard of.
Unless, of course, the matter was of the utmost urgency.
“Who is it?” Berhal called out.
“Personnel Bureau of Edelbein Academy. Open the door immediately.”
The Personnel Bureau!
The administrative enforcement branch operating directly under the academy dean—an office feared by every faculty member and staffer on campus without exception.
The Personnel Bureau?
Now? Why?
For them to barge in here directly…
The Personnel Bureau oversaw all administrative matters concerning staff: hiring, promotions, disciplinary tribunals, and—most terrifying of all—internal audits.
While the rest of the professors squirmed in their seats, privately searching their guilty consciences for past infractions, the one who looked utterly terrified was Professor Elkanto.
“What business brings the Personnel Bureau here…?”
Berhal unlatched the door. A stern, severe-looking man strode into the room, followed by five uniformed investigators.
The man radiated an icy, razor-sharp aura. His gray hair was swept back with immaculate precision, accentuating a prominent aquiline nose, an elongated face, and wire-rimmed spectacles resting on his bridge.
“Are you Dean Berhal Abuera?”
“I am.”
The man’s cold gaze swept over the seated professors before settling on his mark. Then, with chilling clarity, he delivered words that shattered the silence of the room.
“An anonymous whistleblower report has been filed against Professor Dakeus Altman.”