Please, I Beg You, My Daughter Is Watching
The sheer presence of all the great family heads had already made this year's Exchange Event unprecedented. Yet now, another reason—one just as historic—had been etched into the academy's records.
"This is insane. The first-years reached the summit before us?"
"And on Route D, no less!"
"This can't be happening..."
The second-years were utterly despondent. Upon dragging themselves to the peak, an unthinkable result had been waiting for them: dead last.
Worse still, word spread that the first-years had even overtaken the third-years. While technically crossing the finish line moments behind them, the freshmen had been awarded bonus points for braving a far higher difficulty course.
The final standings were set: fifth-years in first, first-years and fourth-years tied for second, third-years in fourth, and second-years in fifth.
An unprecedented tie for second place!
"W-We tied for second?"
"Really? Seriously?!"
Never in the history of the Sword School had a freshman class placed anywhere other than the very bottom. The first-years erupted in wild cheers, while the second- and third-years stood in stunned silence, as if gathered for a funeral.
"Ahem! That is the natural outcome of following my lead!"
For once, not a single soul contested Quantus's shameless boasting. The accomplishment was simply too staggering. In truth, Quantus had performed admirably—stubbornly executing their predetermined tactics against the magic puppets, and immediately obeying Professor Elcanto's directive to press on toward the summit when the three rogue puppets ambushed them.
"Well done, Leader! It's all thanks to your orders!"
"Gwahahaha!"
The students were far from the only ones reveling in the triumph.
"It is a shame the scrying feed cut out, but what a marvelous achievement nonetheless, My Lord!"
"Congratulations, Lord Kundel! Truly fitting of the scion of a great house!"
"Young Master Deleve's talent is undeniably peerless!"
The vassal lords gathered around Amos Kundel showered him with effusive praise.
"It was all thanks to Lady Celia's brilliant leadership, of course!"
"Who could ever hope to rival the genius of House Rihardt? My heartfelt congratulations, My Lord!"
"I knew she would pull off a miracle! The first-years practically rallied as one under Lady Celia's command!"
The subordinate houses under House Rihardt were equally fervent in their congratulations to Darren Rihardt. The patriarchs of other families whose children had competed also basked in their share of praise. The head of House Hopel, upon learning his son had served as the unit's commander, puffed out his chest until his buttons strained.
"Ahem! My son was the leader of the first-years! The leader!"
Patriarchs of lesser noble houses shared the same unbridled joy. Only Match 1 had concluded, yet the celebratory mood was already at its zenith—though the parents of the second- and third-years could hardly muster a smile.
"By the way, I hear the elective instructor in charge of the first-years is a peerless educator. Where on earth has he been this whole time?"
"Who knows? I don't believe I've seen him up here today..."
"An elective instructor, not a professor? Wait, does the Sword School even have elective instructors?"
"My, you're terribly slow on rumors. Anyone who matters already knows. Ah, but then again, perhaps you're someone who doesn't?"
"Now see here! You don't have to be rude! A man can be a little late to hear the gossip!"
"Well, you hail from the eastern boondocks, so I suppose it cannot be helped."
"What did you just say?!"
Many of the gathered lords were actively searching for Xiel. An unprecedented second-place finish for the first-years, engineered by the rumored elective instructor, Xiel Steelheart! Yet the very man at the center of the fervor was nowhere to be found.
Two patriarchs in particular—Amos Kundel and Darren Rihardt—were scouring the grounds with restless urgency.
Where in the world is he? My son wouldn't stop singing his praises; I need to see him with my own eyes...
My little girl said she wants to make him her personal escort knight, so I must speak with him...
The festive atmosphere was undeniable.
Yet not far off, Department Head Berhal and the assembled faculty were in no mood to celebrate.
"Department Head, the guards have returned. However..."
Berhal's expression hardened the instant he recognized the figure accompanying the guards.
Lena—an operative of the Personnel Bureau and Rocus's most trusted subordinate.
"...Why are you here?"
Well aware of the frosty relationship between Rocus and Berhal, Lena broached the subject with measured care.
"Department Head, what I am about to disclose has not been cleared with Director Rocus. However, I believe it is vital that you are informed."
As she recounted the events, shock washed over Berhal's face.
"...These men seized control of the magic puppets?"
"Not only that, they deliberately scattered these items across the mountain."
Lena handed Berhal a bundle containing badges stamped with the crest of House Rihardt, alongside several other incriminating trinkets.
"This is..."
"Their objective was to orchestrate a catastrophic incident and frame House Rihardt. Considering that Student Deleve Kundel was previously targeted, their intent was almost certainly to incite an armed feud between Kundel and Rihardt."
"Unbelievable..."
House Siren was involved. That alone was scandalous, but infiltrating the Exchange Event to manufacture a disaster and pin the blame on House Rihardt bordered on outright treason.
"Did Rocus... Did Director Rocus order you to track them?"
"Yes. Originally... my task was to surveil former professor Dakeus."
"Dakeus?"
"Yes. Suspecting undeniable links to other factions from the prior incident... our pursuit confirmed that these operatives made contact with Dakeus, followed by receiving direct orders from House Siren."
Lena laid out every detail without holding back. Without absolute transparency, she had no hope of gaining Berhal's trust. Just as Kundel and Rihardt were bitter rivals, Berhal and Rocus were perpetual adversaries whose mere eye contact was enough to spark an argument—though their friction stemmed from an entirely different kind of history.
"Can I take your word for all of this?"
"I stake my honor on it."
Berhal fell silent, absorbing the weight of her claim. Outrageous as it seemed, the motive was airtight. Siren was forever marginalized in the shadow of Kundel and Rihardt, and the Siren patriarch had never bothered to conceal his naked ambitions.
An unprecedented Exchange Event in more ways than one.
To think such a crisis would erupt during his very first year as department head. Amid his grim contemplation, Lena spoke again.
"Furthermore, had it not been for someone who stepped in to assist me, I would likely be dead by now."
"Assisted you?"
"Yes. A man suddenly appeared and subdued them both... His combat prowess was staggering."
A face instantly sprang to Berhal's mind—the same man who had saved Elcanto.
"Could it have been Instructor Xiel?"
"Instructor Xiel?"
Right at that moment, Xiel came into view, ascending the summit alongside several teaching assistants.
"Him. That instructor over there."
Lena studied him intently, then shook her head.
"No. His face and hair color are different, and the build does not match." She hesitated, a slight crease forming between her brows. "Though if I heard his voice, I could be certain."
"Hmm."
Xiel approached their position.
"Department Head. Our sweeps confirmed there are no further threats beyond the magic puppets discovered near Professor Elcanto."
"Ah, I see. Excellent work, Instructor Xiel."
Berhal glanced toward Lena. She offered another subtle, definitive shake of her head. Not him.
A third party, then?
If it wasn't Instructor Xiel... who could it possibly be?
It stood to reason. Effortlessly disabling three magic puppets was impressive enough, but subduing assassins of that caliber was an entirely different matter.
Berhal turned back to Lena. "When did you rendezvous with Instructor Xiel?"
"Shortly after we dispersed following your instructions."
"I see."
Berhal could not banish his suspicions entirely, but with the eyewitness herself denying it, there was little more to say.
"Department Head, may I transfer custody of these two to the Personnel Bureau first?"
Berhal weighed the proposition. An internal Sword School investigation would be ideal—it would minimize leaks and provide immediate answers. However, the Exchange Event was in full swing, and concluding his inaugural tournament without scandal was paramount.
It cannot be helped.
Berhal set his conditions.
"I will permit it, on the strict condition that you provide complete copies of all investigative findings whenever we request them."
"...I will do everything in my power to persuade the Director."
Berhal gave a firm nod before adding, "If the Personnel Bureau assumes custody, will operatives be sent up here?"
"They will."
"Then I attach one more condition: someone other than Director Rocus must come to take them into custody."
"..."
Just how much does he despise him?
"Understood. I will relay your terms."
The immediate crisis was temporarily settled, though a tempest loomed on the horizon.
Siren will undoubtedly feign innocence.
Yet would Kundel and Rihardt sit idly by once the truth came to light? House Siren had likely dealt itself a fatal blow. Still, had it not been for the mysterious stranger who rescued Lena, Siren's scheme might have unfolded without a hitch. First, Xiel had neutralized the runaway puppets; second, the unknown warrior had dismantled the conspiracy in the shadows.
Just who is he?
As he turned the puzzle over in his head, a startling hypothesis seized him.
The Imperial Palace!
Professor Elcanto's words echoed in his memory: "Instructor Xiel... do you think he has the imperial family backing him?"
He had laughed it off at the time. Why would someone backed by the imperial throne settle for an elective instructor's post at an academy? A posting in the Personnel Bureau would make far more sense.
Wait...
From another perspective, it made even more sense. Surveillance from the roots, not from the canopy! If the throne was indeed watching Instructor Xiel's back, it was entirely plausible that an imperial powerhouse had been dispatched to intervene in this crisis.
If that is true...
A chill crept down his spine. The imperial throne. Berhal had served as Commander of the Imperial Knights for over a decade, yet the late Emperor had always remained an enigma. And the reigning Emperor carried that same inscrutable blood more purely than anyone.
I need to look into this. The situation is slipping entirely beyond my predictions.
For the briefest instant, Berhal questioned his decision to take up this academy post.
Instructor Xiel is not merely... suspiciously capable.
If the imperial family was actively shielding him, something immense was taking shape behind the curtain. He needed to handle Xiel with far greater care going forward.
Matters will only grow more complicated. The Arcane School is entangled in this too.
One captive was an assassin presumed to be under House Siren's employ. The other was an Arcane School mage dispatched for this very Exchange Event. The Arcane School would undoubtedly deny all involvement.
Leaving it to the Personnel Bureau eliminates that headache.
That was the real calculation behind Berhal's ready concession. Inter-school friction involved political maneuvering beyond the Sword School's jurisdiction. The Personnel Bureau, however, answered directly to the Headmaster, wielding absolute authority that made the entire academy shudder whenever they mobilized.
At times like this, one might as well put them to use.
Berhal had not survived over ten years as the Knight Commander in the treacherous waters of imperial court politics for nothing.
"Go have your injuries tended to. I will return shortly."
Berhal decided to redirect his focus to the Exchange Event. Walking alongside Xiel toward the gathering crowd, he spoke.
"Instructor Xiel."
"Yes, Department Head."
"Have you seen the results? It was so chaotic today; this must be your first time reaching the summit."
"It is."
"Congratulations. You have educated the first-years magnificently. They achieved a joint second place behind the fifth-years, matching the fourth-years stride for stride."
A brilliant outcome! What was more, Berhal had personally wagered one million sel on the first-years breaking their historic record.
Think of the payout!
"I see."
Xiel offered only a flat, unimpressed nod.
Berhal tilted his head. "Are you not pleased?"
"Were any students injured?"
"Ah...!"
Berhal blinked, caught off guard.
Right. What does a ranking matter?
The students he had personally instructed had just braved mortal peril; their well-being took precedence over all else. Berhal felt a sudden twinge of shame. A truly dedicated educator truly was built differently—
"It is regrettable that, despite avoiding injury, they failed to defeat the fourth-years."
"Pardon?"
"I will ensure they do so in Match 2."
Regrettable that they didn't beat the fourth-years? Did he genuinely expect them to take first place outright?
What an intensely peculiar man.
Ensure they do so in Match 2? Match 1 was an obstacle race where each grade tackled an isolated course. Match 2, however, was a direct, chaotic melee.
There are only three days to prepare... I wonder what he will conjure up.
At the same time, another thought surfaced. Xiel and Elcanto deserved proper compensation. Thanks to their decisive actions, a catastrophe had been averted, allowing everyone to celebrate these results in peace.
Would a cash incentive suffice?
While Berhal contemplated rewards, the first-years caught sight of Xiel and came stampeding over.
"Instructor Xiel! Instructor! We tied for second place!!"
"Instructor! Where have you been all this time?!"
Beside themselves with excitement, the students sprinted forward. Quantus, hurtling at the front like a runaway siege engine, was impossible to miss.
Xiel took an instinctive step backward.
A collision will result in unnecessary impact.
According to his trajectory calculations, the boy intended to launch himself into a flying embrace.
And precisely as predicted—
"Oof!"
Thud!
Quantus dove cleanly through empty air and slammed face-first into the dirt.
"W-Why did you dodge my embrace?!"
"I assessed that I would sustain injuries."
Xiel delivered his flat assessment, then swept his gaze across the gathered first-years one by one. Fortunately, none were gravely hurt. They bore a few light scrapes from their initial skirmish with the magic puppets, but nothing beyond minor abrasions.
"You all performed adequately."
At Xiel's single line of praise, Celia looked on the verge of tears.
"It's all thanks to you, Instructor!"
"I am aware. I taught you well."
"..."
For once, none of them took offense at his unyielding bluntness.
"They said first-years have never taken second place in the history of the academy!"
"Thanks to your stamina drills, we didn't even lose our breath on the climb!"
"And the reflex drills too!"
The training had yielded magnificent dividends. Long-distance endurance runs and hand-to-hand self-defense drills had fortified their stamina and sharpened their reflexes, proving invaluable when scaling treacherous cliffs and fending off arcane automata.
The fundamentals. Match 1 had once again driven home their absolute supremacy. The same held true for the cooperative drills, trap disarming, and toxic herb identification lectures Xiel had conducted in preparation for the event.
He was, in every sense, an elite instructor.
"Look at them... showering him with gratitude like that..."
"Ahem. Hmph."
The other supervising professors watched the scene with thinly veiled envy. The students swarmed around him like chirping chicks!
I'm so jealous!
If only our third-years showed that kind of affection!
Seeing fourth-years do that would be grotesque, but even so...!
Only Elcanto, sequestered away while having his fractured ankle treated, missed the display.
Berhal let out a quiet chuckle. Has there ever been an instructor quite like him?
He was entirely unlike the professors who obsessed over posturing and prestige. Instructor Xiel carried an undeniable weight of authority, yet never went out of his way to put on airs.
So that is what true education looks like.
A strange sense of enlightenment washed over him.
"Well, well, Commander. We finally have a chance to converse."
A booming voice called out from behind.
"Ah, Lord Rihardt. You have no need to address me by that title anymore."
"Nonsense! To one who trained under your command, you will forever be my Knight Commander. Hahaha!"
Berhal was sixty; Darren Rihardt was fifty. Darren had once served under Berhal as his subordinate in the Imperial Knights.
"How have you found this Exchange Event?"
"Don't get me started! I haven't felt this elated in years!"
"Father!"
"Oh, my sweet Celia!"
Celia bounded over like a child and threw herself into Darren's open arms. Darren beamed, stroking his daughter's hair with boundless pride before turning his gaze toward Xiel.
"By the way, the gentleman you were just speaking with..."
"Ah, forgive my delayed introduction."
Anticipation shone in Darren's eyes. At long last, he was about to meet the fabled elective instructor—
"Allow me to introduce you, Instructor Xiel. This is Darren Rihardt, head of House Rihardt."
Darren got a good look at him.
"Uh... wait..."
The face was startlingly familiar.
"This is not our first meeting, but our second. Greetings, Lord Rihardt."
"Ho? You two are already acquainted?" Berhal asked.
Ah!
The knife-throwing game!
Son of a—
"Wait, Father, you've met Instructor Xiel before?" Celia asked, blinking.
Xiel gave a calm nod. "We have met once. As for the location—"
"HA! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Darren lunged forward, throwing his arms around Xiel in a desperate, bone-crushing bear hug.
Then, with the blinding velocity of Rihardt Fast Swordsmanship, he hissed directly into Xiel's ear:
"PleaseIbegofyoumydaughteriswatchingdonotsayasingleword!"
Indeed.
Darren Rihardt was an incurable, hopelessly doting father. A father who desperately needed to remain the cool, invincible hero in his daughter's eyes!
Under no circumstances could those lips utter that he had been brazenly swindled at a festival knife-throwing stall!
And worse still!
He could never let it slip that while he had missed, Xiel had struck every single target dead-center!
"Iwillgrantwhateverrequestyouhavejustplease!"
Faced with that desperate plea, Xiel made his decision.