A Favorable Wind
The past three days had been a whirlwind of chaos for everyone in the Sword School.
First came the selection match incident.
Then came the Dakeus affair.
To everyone's shock, the disaster that had unfolded during the selection trials turned out to have been orchestrated by none other than a faculty member.
The decision that followed was swift.
"Then, we shall resolve on dismissal. We will decide by a show of hands. All those in favor of dismissal?"
As if they had been waiting for the cue, a dozen hands shot up into the air.
"Eight votes in favor. I cast my vote in agreement as well. That makes it unanimous."
Rocus stamped the official seal onto the document ordering the dismissal of Dakeus Altman.
"With this, Dakeus Altman is hereby stripped of his professorship at Edelbein Academy's Sword School, effective today."
The proceedings moved with ruthless efficiency.
The evidence was undeniable, and Dakeus had ultimately confessed to the charges.
Rocus carried the decree straight to Dakeus himself.
Thud.
As the papers were tossed onto the table before him, the last glimmer of light faded from Dakeus's eyes.
"Dakeus Altman. You are dismissed as of today."
"...Damn it all."
"Your personal belongings will be forwarded once packed. Should you fail to receive them, consider them slated for disposal. Though I imagine you won't be in any position to collect them anyway."
Disciplinary action was hardly the only thing awaiting Dakeus now.
There was the imperial punishment for a blatant criminal offense.
And—
"If you had spoken when I offered you the chance, things wouldn't have ended quite like this, Dakeus."
There was the retribution of House Kundel.
"Did you truly act entirely on your own initiative?"
"..."
Dakeus kept his mouth shut tight.
Watching his silence, Rocus clicked his tongue in disdain.
Is his backer so terrifying that he'd rather take the entire fall alone?
Even a cursory glance revealed that Dakeus had no plausible motive to orchestrate such an attack.
Unless he harbored some deep personal vendetta, his motives were paper-thin—just like Yon's.
Yet Dakeus insisted to the bitter end that he had conceived and executed the entire plot by himself.
There is unquestionably something more beneath the surface.
Since the man refused to speak, there was little that could be forced right now, but Rocus despised this sort of cowardice above all else.
Puppeteers pulling strings from the shadows.
It was disgust with that very rot that had driven him to leave the Imperial Knights in the first place.
Those days when investigations could never proceed as they ought to, always bending beneath external political pressure.
Back when he had walked away from the order on his own two feet and wandered aimlessly, the Academy President had reached out, offering him a position here in the Personnel Bureau.
Though his jurisdiction was confined within the academy's walls, at the very least, no one here could order an investigation halted from on high.
It was vastly preferable to swallowing down filth day after day.
"I truly detest situations like this, Dakeus."
"..."
"I will grant you one final opportunity. Tell me who ordered you to do this."
Flick.
Rocus struck a flame and lit his pipe.
He exhaled a long breath, pale white smoke gradually filling the interrogation room.
Yet Dakeus still refused to part his lips.
"You truly intend to shoulder everything and die alone?"
Dakeus lifted his head, his hollow gaze locking onto Rocus.
"Just kill me instead. That would be far better."
Rocus realized there was no room left for persuasion.
In truth, this outcome suited him just fine.
"Very well."
Snap.
At the snap of his fingers, the door to the interrogation room swung open as if on cue, and agents of the Personnel Bureau stepped inside.
"Banish him from the grounds."
"Understood, Director."
Flanked and seized by the agents, Dakeus was dragged from the room.
His feet moved across the floor, but it could hardly be called walking; he was merely shuffling along like a hollow shell.
Watching Dakeus's retreating figure, Rocus wore a bitter grimace.
He refused to utter a single word to the very end.
If the man was this determined to keep his silence, there was nothing more to extract here.
Not that they were entirely out of options, of course.
"Lena."
"Yes, Director."
"The moment Dakeus is expelled beyond the gates, trail him. This will be a long-term assignment."
"Understood."
"Watch your back. If you sense even the slightest whiff of danger, pull out immediately."
The woman named Lena offered a bright, easy smile.
"You know my temperament, don't you, Director?"
Rocus gave a dry chuckle.
"I do. But exercise caution all the same. For a man to seal his lips to this degree means there is an immense power standing behind him. One terrifying enough to silence him completely."
"Understood."
"Ah, before you depart. How are things on Deleve's and Yon's end?"
"Both students remain quiet. However, House Riversong has sent word that their head will visit the academy as soon as humanly possible."
"I see. And Kundel... are they merely observing the situation?"
"It is more likely that they are keeping their eyes fixed on Dakeus."
"That sounds about right. Understood. And lastly..."
Rocus brought up an individual who was intimately tied to this affair, yet oddly detached from it all.
"What of Xiel Steelheart?"
"There appear to have been no particular approaches made toward him by any other noble houses."
"Is that so?"
"Does he weigh on your mind?"
Her question carried an implicit undertone: He's merely a general education instructor, after all.
"No. I am simply exercising due diligence. Strictly speaking, this whole mess only ended as cleanly as it did because of him."
According to their investigation, had that elective instructor not leapt between the two students to intercept the strike, the 'incident' would never have come to light at all.
Deleve would have fallen in defeat, Yon would have received his payment as planned, and Dakeus would have achieved his objective entirely undetected.
Judging by the nature of the poison, Deleve might never have even realized he had been poisoned.
Put simply, Xiel was the sole reason a catastrophic disaster had been strangled in the cradle.
"I doubt the Sword School will offer him any proper recompense, however."
"They are likely far too preoccupied with saving face to bother."
"Hmph."
Still, how on earth had he noticed and thrown himself between them in time?
It had all transpired in a fraction of a heartbeat.
Xiel Steelheart, is it?
A flicker of genuine curiosity stirred within Rocus.
"The Exchange Match is just around the corner, so I intend to keep my attention focused there from now on. So please, if at all possible, return in one piece."
Lena brushed back her reddish-brown hair and nodded firmly.
"Of course. You can't get anything done without me around, can you, Director?"
"Yes, yes. Thank you so very much for that glowing assessment."
"Don't mention it! Oh, and one more thing."
Just as he wondered if she had something serious left to say—
"Cut back on the pipe, Director."
With that parting shot, Lena slipped out the door as if fleeing the scene.
"Good grief."
Rocus watched the closed door with an affectionate, lingering worry before finally returning to his desk.
Lost in thought, he ran a hand through his gray hair, his mind suddenly drifting back to the clash that had unfolded in the Sword School's conference room.
"That stubborn old man."
A soft smirk escaped Rocus's lips.
Ties of blood were truly a troublesome thing.
The Sword School had hoped to bury the scandal beneath the rug, quietly ushering Dakeus out the back door.
Rumors, however, had a way of slipping through every crack.
"Did you hear? Yon only did it because Professor Dakeus put him up to it."
"Does that even make any sense?"
"Think about it! Do you think Yon would ever touch a Kundel unless he'd lost his mind?"
Before class began, the students gathered in the gymnasium were eagerly dissecting every whisper and theory they had heard.
"But why would a professor do something like that?"
"How should I know?"
By all accounts, it was a horrifying breach of trust.
A professor entrusted with guiding and educating students had hired another student to intentionally harm one of his own pupils.
That was precisely why the Sword School had scrambled to suppress the news.
The school's credibility was plummeting through the floor!
Outraged protests from parents were bound to pour in by the cartload.
The fallout promised to be catastrophic.
Yet the victim at the very center of the storm, Deleve Kundel, was simply standing in his usual spot in absolute silence, waiting for class to commence.
"Hey, Deleve."
Someone approached and called out to him.
"What?"
"You're holding up all right, aren't you?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Why wouldn't you? After everything that happened?"
It was Celia.
"What's with the sudden concern?"
"It's not concern, just curiosity. I wouldn't want you making excuses when you embarrass yourself at the Exchange Match later."
"Did you come over here just to pick a fight?"
Celia smirked.
"Same as always, then. As long as you're fine, that's enough."
"Quit making so much noise and get lost."
"Prickly as ever, just like when we were kids."
In truth, Deleve's mind was consumed by a single thought: the upcoming Exchange Match.
Third-year Aken Kundel.
Fifth-year Agres Kundel.
Both of his older brothers would be participating.
This is my chance to prove what I can do.
If he showed them his true caliber, his brothers would look at him with new eyes.
They would acknowledge his strength and perhaps even let him hang around with them like they used to.
Being left behind just because I'm the youngest ends here.
"If you need a sparring partner, just say the word," Celia called over her shoulder. "I'll educate you just like the old days."
"Would you just go already?!"
Turning away, Celia let out a quiet sigh of relief.
It seemed the incident hadn't shaken him nearly as deeply as she had feared.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the hall...
"Karen, does it feel like our selection is getting completely buried under all this?"
"A little, yeah."
Having defied every odd to secure spots on the Exchange Match roster, Yurio and Karen found themselves in an odd position.
They should have been the talk of the school, but an unprecedented scandal had completely stolen the spotlight.
Not that their achievement had gone unnoticed entirely.
Among their fellow first-years, their victory had caused immense shock, and the pair had already struck up friendly conversations with several classmates.
The invisible social walls built by their modest backgrounds were slowly crumbling away.
And alongside that progress...
"Instructor's here."
The sheer brilliance of Instructor Xiel had become an undeniable topic of conversation in its own right.
"I will now take attendance."
Xiel called out their names in his usual flat, unhurried cadence, acting as if nothing out of the ordinary had ever occurred.
"Everyone is present. Then we will proceed with today's lesson. Fall into formation."
Only then did the students finally shake off their distraction.
The restless excitement stirred by the selection trials began to settle into focused resolve.
One milestone had passed, but their motivation was burning hotter than ever.
As long as we follow Instructor Xiel's teachings, we can get stronger.
Every single student from Professor Elcanto's specialized class was eliminated, wasn't he?
These lessons were no waste of time.
Students who had been lagging behind were rapidly closing the gap with their peers.
Those who were already talented were growing sharper and more formidable by the day.
They had felt it during the grueling drills, but seeing the undeniable proof during the selection trials had set every soul in the hall ablaze.
"Hup!"
"Oof!"
"Guh!"
Of course, that didn't mean they had suddenly learned how to intercept surprise attacks.
"Urrrgh, my back..."
"How are we even supposed to block that?!"
Today, like every other day, students were sent sprawling across the gymnasium floor beneath Xiel's strikes.
They knew they needed to defend themselves, but their bodies simply couldn't react in time.
A single trial wasn't going to grant anyone an overnight miracle.
Even so, they gritted their teeth and poured every shred of concentration into anticipating Xiel's movements, desperate to catch him off guard.
Among them, the one who stood out most glaringly was Maris.
"Student Maris Sophen. If you had raised your left arm a fraction of a second earlier just now, you would have deflected the blow."
"Shift your left foot more swiftly."
"When an ambush comes from behind, you must sense the subtle shift in the air."
Maris ground his molars together.
He could feel himself improving, step by agonizing step.
Yet it was still nowhere near enough.
To think I lost to Yurio...
The sting of that humiliating defeat had ripped away his delusions.
What a pathetic, embarrassing disgrace.
For most of his life, nearly every problem could be resolved by tossing money at it.
This was the first time that rule had utterly failed him.
His family had poured astronomical fortunes into high-grade breathing techniques and premier private tutors to manufacture his 'skills'—only for him to be crushed so thoroughly.
I will beat him next time. Whatever it takes.
For the first time in his life, Maris held a goal born entirely of his own will.
Until now, his ambitions had been manufactured by others.
Entering the academy.
Being selected for the Exchange Match.
Upholding the family honor.
All of it had been external expectations. But this time, it was a fire ignited by his own pride.
"Gah!"
"Student Maris Sophen. Focus."
Of course, he still had a very long road ahead of him.
While Maris clutched the back of his head and groaned in agony, Xiel turned his attention toward another student.
The moment Xiel extended his hand—
Smack!
The strike was stopped clean.
"What?!"
"Whoa!"
"No way!"
A collective gasp of astonishment ripped through the hall.
It was a first.
There had been a few lucky grazes before, but this was the first time someone had executed a flawless, absolute defense against Xiel's attack!
"Well done."
For the first time today, a word of genuine praise slipped from Xiel's lips.
"Student Deleve Kundel."
With wide, slightly stunned eyes, Deleve stared down at his own forearms, still locked in the defensive cross that had intercepted the blow.
A triumphant smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as raw confidence surged through his veins.
"I can block anything now, Instructor."
"That is not true."
The words had barely left Xiel's mouth before he vanished from Deleve's sight. Reappearing instantly behind the boy, he gave his back a brisk pat.
"Oof!"
"You have merely blocked one strike. Strive to maintain that standard consistently."
"..."
Deleve's shoulders slumped in disappointment, but the words that followed instantly brought the grin rushing back to his face.
"Well done. I see clear improvement, Student Deleve Kundel."
A faint, nearly imperceptible curve touched the corners of Xiel's own lips.
He was beginning to recognize this sensation.
It was fulfillment.
He actually blocked it?
Meanwhile, watching the scene unfold, a wave of fierce envy and urgency swept through the rest of the students.
None felt it more acutely than Celia.
They had been neck and neck, their rivalry fierce and undecided across the entire first-year class.
Yet in this single moment, it felt as though Deleve had taken a massive stride ahead of her.
Instructor, hurry up and attack me next!
It wasn't just Celia silently screaming that plea; every student in the room was burning with the same desperate hunger.
Deleve hadn't just blocked a single strike.
With that one defense, he had poured oil over the flames in their chests.
Though the Sword School remained fraught with political turbulence, a gentle, favorable wind was steadily swelling the sails of the students under Xiel's charge.
Later, once the lesson drew to a close...
"Instructor Xiel."
Tyron approached with hurried steps.
"Instructor Xiel, Professor Elcanto is looking for you."
And it wasn't merely Professor Elcanto who awaited him.
"The head of House Riversong has arrived."