The Special Support System

When Ziel was first appointed to the Edelbein Academy's Sword School, Professor Elkanto had handed him the official academy rulebook.

Ziel had promptly memorized every single word.

As a result, should anyone inquire, he could recite the dense, leather-bound volume cover to cover without a moment's hesitation. Hidden within those forgotten pages were institutional policies that the Sword School's students had never heard of—and that the faculty had long since neglected.

Or rather...

Policies that a select few were quietly monopolizing for themselves.

One of those very ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠policies was the Special Support System.

"A Special Support System? I've never heard of that before."

"It is written in the academy regulations," Ziel replied evenly. "It is an institutional provision that covers dormitory fees and tuition for students who meet specific qualifying criteria."

"Something like that actually exists?"

"Yes. The regulations state it quite clearly."

Karen tilted her head, her expression clouded with disbelief. Yet beneath that lingering skepticism, a flicker of desperate hope began to surface.

"If that's really possible... then I..."

"You will have no reason to visit this district again."

"Sir! Thank you so much!"

Karen lunged forward and grabbed Ziel's hands. Through her calloused palms, he could feel both the warmth of her grip and the rapid, pounding rhythm of her pulse.

In truth, Ziel could not genuinely empathize with the hardship Karen endured. An ever-mounting mountain of familial debt, the suffocating burden of carrying an entire noble house on young shoulders, and the grinding poverty that forced her to scout the capital's rough slums for cheap lodging—none of it resonated with his emotionally detached nature.

Even so, that did not mean he lacked a reason to intervene.

"You are my student. That is why I am helping you."

"Sir..."

The following morning, after returning to the academy grounds, Ziel paid a visit to the faculty offices.

"Pardon? The Special Support System?"

"That is correct, Professor. It is explicitly stipulated in the academy regulations."

Elkanto blinked in utter bewilderment. The Special Support System? It was abundantly clear the portly professor had no idea what he was talking about.

"Something like that... Ah, wait. I think I might vaguely recall..."

"Article fifty-nine of the academy regulations, concerning the Student Support System, paragraph eight."

Elkanto scrambled to pull a thick, dust-caked tome from the back of his shelf. As he flipped to the designated page, his doubtful squint stretched into wide-eyed astonishment.

It's actually there?!

Had this man truly memorized the entire blasted book?

"Ahem! Yes, of course. It slipped my mind for a moment, that's all. Right, right, we do have such a program. But why do you ask, Instructor Ziel?"

"One of my students requires it."

'Dormitory fees, next semester's tuition, and a living allowance determined by the council... Who on earth is he trying to give this to?'

Elkanto tilted his head in thought. Until just a few months ago, back when he had been supervising the first-year cohort, he had never bothered paying attention to any student who didn't hail from immense wealth.

"It is for Cadet Karen Aswan."

"Ah. Ahh, her." Elkanto's recollection was hazy at best. Who was that again?

"Cadet Karen Aswan's household is facing severe financial distress. I intend to secure dormitory subsidies for her."

"I see. Hmm. Allow me to look into it. Since it's right there in the regulations, as long as we secure the consent of the faculty..."

In academic politics, one always had to build consensus from the bottom up before approaching the top brass. And that was precisely where the problem lay.

'Professor Marchen will never sign off on this.'

Their relationship had already soured considerably after the Exchange Event. Elkanto had broken their mutual alliance during the tournament and ordered his second-years to assist the first-years instead. Ever since, Marchen had been so furious that she wouldn't even acknowledge his morning greetings.

'Still... isn't this worth a try?'

Elkanto had witnessed firsthand how dramatically Ziel's standing had risen since the tournament. It was common knowledge throughout the campus that the patriarchs of both House Kundel and House Rihardt had attempted to scout him. There were even whispers that the Second Prince of the Valdrain Empire had taken a personal interest in him.

'This is a golden opportunity.'

It was the perfect chance to earn major favor with the man.

"I'll look into the matter immediately. It shouldn't be terribly difficult."

"Understood. Thank you."

"Haha! Don't mention it! It's the least I can do when it's a request from Instructor Ziel! I will make sure—absolutely make sure—to see this through."

Elkanto laid it on thick. His sycophantic motives were transparent as glass, but shameless opportunism had always been his chosen method of survival.

Puffing his chest out with boundless confidence, Elkanto set off on his mission. Yet only a short while later, he was struck upside the head by a bolt from the blue.

"Pardon? What on earth do you mean, Professor Idel?"

"I mean it's utterly impossible. As far as I'm aware, that program is practically exclusive to the Arcane School."

"W-What?!"

Professor Idel, who supervised the fourth-year class, simply shook his head with an air of tired cynicism.

"The regulation exists on paper, yes, but it's virtually impossible for anyone in our department to make use of it."

"Even though it's written plain as day in the academy bylaws?"

"Come now, Professor Elkanto. You know how this academy works as well as I do."

The Arcane School. He had run straight into an adversary far more formidable than Marchen could ever be.

The Sword School's prestige was a shadow of its former glory. Ever since the imperial throne began pouring unprecedented funding into magical research, the Arcane School's influence had skyrocketed past all reasonable bounds.

"That program is monopolized entirely by the Arcane School. Across the entire academy, only three students are selected each cycle."

"..."

"You're surprisingly naive, Professor Elkanto."

There was a reason no one in the Sword School had ever so much as breathed a word about the provision. It wasn't ignorance; it was resignation.

'Damn ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it all! After I boasted so loudly that he could count on me!'

If the opponent was the Arcane School, there was zero chance of victory. The disparity in treatment within the academy walls was night and day. There was a reason people said mages had eclipsed knights in modern warfare, and why a noble house's prestige surged by leaps and bounds if even a single mage emerged from their bloodline.

"I-Is there really no other alternative?"

"Other programs exist, of course, but this year's scholarship recipients have already been finalized. Besides, first-year students aren't eligible for general scholarships anyway."

"Ah..."

"I don't know what prompted this sudden crusade, but take my advice: drop it. You're barking up the wrong tree."

"Why on earth would the Arcane School bother monopolizing something like this...?"

"Because it's the easiest legal way to siphon institutional funds, obviously. Are you truly that blind?"

Tuition and boarding costs were trivial sums in the grand scheme of things—at least to high-ranking nobles.

"You saw the clause about the living stipend, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"That's where the real meat is."

"Ah..."

The picture snapped into focus. The Arcane School was exploiting a bureaucratic loophole for financial gain, and because the payout was so lucrative, they guarded the monopoly with an iron fist. After all, the size of a living stipend was entirely subjective, dictated behind closed doors by committee.

'Good grief.'

Elkanto trudged back toward his personal quarters, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"This is maddening..."

He had told Ziel to leave everything to him. How terribly disappointed would the man be?

"Of all the obstacles, it just had to be the Arcane School."

In plain terms, it was a systemic monopoly. The mages were hoarding every scrap of privilege for themselves. The deadline for applications was at the end of this week, but considering that not a single Sword School student had ever successfully claimed it...

'Submitting an application is completely pointless.'

There was no helping it. Swallowing his pride, Elkanto met with Ziel once more.

"Instructor Ziel, I regret to inform you that the program won't be viable."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. After looking into it, well... the situation is rather complicated."

Elkanto began spinning an explanation that made Ziel furrow his brows in mild confusion.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Even if we submit the paperwork, it won't be approved."

"What is the reason?"

"Because of the Arcane School, essentially."

Elkanto let out a deep, self-pitying sigh, but Ziel merely regarded him with an impassive stare.

"What does the Arcane School have to do with this?"

"To be blunt... even if we apply, it will be rejected out of hand. The Arcane School holds a virtual monopoly over the program."

"According to the academy regulations, the program is not restricted to the Arcane School."

"Yes, I know that. We all know that! But there is something called institutional politics..."

Institutional politics. That, too, was a concept entirely foreign to Ziel.

"I have never heard of such logic."

"Well, it exists, and it governs this place whether we like it or not. Instructor Ziel, let us look for another way. If worse comes to worst, we could try finding an outside patron..."

Had Elkanto offered a rational, practical constraint, Ziel would have nodded and adjusted his course. But in the absence of any logical justification, his response was already decided.

"I was informed the application window remains open until the end of this week."

"Y-You still intend to apply?"

"Yes. I will submit the paperwork."

"Listen to me, it's an exercise in futility! A screening committee will convene to evaluate the applicants, but they'll just rubber-stamp the Arcane School's candidates no matter what we—"

It was a foregone conclusion. Pursuing it would achieve nothing except inviting ridicule upon themselves. The Arcane School's disdain for martial practitioners was already infamous. If the Sword School threw its hat into the ring only to be crushed, the mages would mock them mercilessly.

Yet nothing Elkanto said could sway the man standing before him.

"Her qualifications are more than sufficient. Her outstanding performance in the recent Exchange Event provides strong grounds for recommendation, and her personal domestic circumstances are dire. I believe these factors meet every stated requirement."

"That's why I'm telling you, the paperwork doesn't matter! The slots are already guaranteed to go to the mages, so even if you apply—"

"Then I will formally raise an objection regarding that disparity."

It went from bad to worse. Rather than enduring a quiet brush-off, Ziel was planning to turn this into a full-blown administrative dispute.

'Why does everything have to spiral out of control?!'

All Elkanto wanted was a comfortable, low-effort faculty career that would quietly carry him to retirement. Yet here he was, watching his colleague leap headfirst into the eye of a political hurricane.

"A-Are you truly set on doing this, Instructor Ziel?"

"The policy exists, and there is a student who requires its aid. It is only natural to utilize it."

There was no stopping him. True to his word, Ziel submitted the formal application a few days later.

The committee review was scheduled for later that week. The final recipients would be decided by a panel of reviewing professors. When Elkanto heard the paperwork had officially gone through, he could only bury his face in his hands.

Naturally, the rumor spread across the campus like wildfire.

"I hear Instructor Ziel actually filed for the Special Support System?"

"What on earth were you doing, Professor Elkanto? Why didn't you stop him?"

Seizing the moment, Professor Idel and Professor Marchen wasted no time piling on the criticism. Marchen, in particular, looked positively gleeful at Elkanto's misfortune.

"Tsk, tsk. Fancy being unable to rein in a mere contract lecturer."

"..."

"Do you have any idea how loudly the Arcane School is laughing at us right now?"

Elkanto had no defense. Anyone was technically free to submit an application, but when the outcome was rigged from the start, no sane person ever bothered.

No one except Ziel.

'I should have just offered to pay her tuition out of my own pocket,' Elkanto lamented bitterly, shedding metaphorical tears of regret.

Before long, the scheduled Sword School faculty meeting was called to order. As expected, Ziel's audacious maneuver was brought to the floor.

"That concludes our scheduled agenda items... Ah, Professor Marchen. Do you have something to add?"

"Department Head Berhal, have you heard the news? It seems Instructor Ziel has submitted an application for the student Special Support System."

That insufferable snake! Elkanto gritted his teeth so hard they nearly cracked. Look at her, rushing to tattle the very second she found an opening!

"Ah, is that so?" Berhal asked, his tone neutral.

"Indeed. When the outcome is entirely predetermined, of all things..."

"Predetermined? What do you mean by that?"

"Well... it is somewhat awkward to put into words, but as you know, that particular program has essentially become the Arcane School's private reserve."

Berhal's expression tightened imperceptibly at her words. Blind to the shift in his demeanor, Marchen pressed forward with growing excitement.

"If this proceeds, our Sword School will become the laughingstock of the entire institution once again. Applying when he knows full well it's impossible... and worse, a certain supervising professor among us couldn't even bother to talk him out of it."

Though she said 'a certain supervising professor,' Marchen shot a pointed glare directly at Elkanto, driving the dagger home. Elkanto balled his fists, sorely tempted to plant one right on her smug nose.

"If Instructor Ziel is not currently conducting a lecture, please summon him to the conference room."

The corners of Marchen's mouth curled upward in triumph. 'A public reprimand. He's going to tear him apart in front of everyone.'

Serves them right. In the Sword School, one had to abide by the established hierarchy. Ziel and Elkanto had been thorns in her side ever since the tournament—Elkanto for defying her orders and forging an alliance with the first-years, and Ziel for orchestrating that absurd victory that dragged her own class's prestige through the mud. This was her golden chance to ruin them both in a single stroke.

Knock, knock.

Moments later, the door swung open, and Ziel stepped into the conference room.

"I was told you were looking for me."

"Ah, Instructor Ziel. Please, have a seat."

Berhal paused for a brief moment, studying the young instructor before speaking. "I understand you have submitted an application for the student Special Support System."

"That is correct."

"May I hear your reasoning for doing so?"

"One of the students under my instruction is unable to pay her dormitory fees and tuition. Because she required institutional assistance, I filed the application."

His answer was completely flat, devoid of hesitation or theatricality. Internally, Marchen sneered with haughty derision. 'To think he caused such an uproar over something so petty...'

"And which student would that be?"

"Cadet Karen Aswan."

"Aswan... Hmm."

The eastern frontier. A family tucked away in the most desolate, impoverished corner of the rural provinces. Eastern noble houses were universally destitute, but obscure lineages whose names barely registered on imperial registries were poorest of all. House Aswan was the textbook definition of such obscurity.

"Was that your sole motivation?"

"There was no other motive," Ziel answered calmly. "I discovered that a policy existed to aid students in need, verified that she met all qualifying criteria, and submitted the paperwork accordingly."

"I see."

Marchen leaned forward, practically vibrating with anticipation as she waited for Berhal to teach this upstart contract lecturer a harsh lesson in academy politics.

"Instructor Ziel, were you aware that this program has historically functioned as an exclusive benefit for the Arcane School?"

"Yes. I was aware."

"And you submitted it nonetheless. Why?"

"The written regulations contain no clause restricting the program to the Arcane School. So long as the qualifications were met, I judged it appropriate to apply."

"Even knowing the established precedent?"

"Refusing to make an attempt simply because of precedent is not a constructive choice."

For a fleeting second, the faint trace of a smile tugged at the corner of Berhal's mouth.

"Refusing to attempt something simply because of precedent is not a constructive choice... Hmmm."

'Wait, what?' A prickle of unease ran down Marchen's spine. Something about this felt terribly off.

"He is not wrong," Berhal said, his voice ringing clearly across the quiet room. "If the institutional regulations allow any department to apply, and if it exists to aid deserving students, then submitting an application is precisely what we ought to do."

"B-But Department Head! Isn't that needlessly stirring up a hornet's nest...?"

"Then would you prefer we remain cowed forever?"

Berhal's sharp rebuke caused both Marchen and Idel to flinch.

'What choice do we have?'

'The Arcane School has the full backing of the Imperial Palace behind them!'

The imperial policy prioritizing magical supremacy—that was the root of the problem. Ever since the great war concluded, the political influence of mages had expanded relentlessly, culminating in the current status quo. Children no longer aspired to become knights. They only turned to swordsmanship as a bitter second choice when they lacked the innate talent for magic. Over time, an insidious sense of defeatism had taken root within the Sword School.

Berhal struck directly at the heart of that rot.

"If we continue down this path, fewer and fewer promising students will seek admission to our department. And every time we cross paths with the faculty of the Arcane School, we will be expected to bow our heads."

"..."

"To be quite frank, I was thoroughly disappointed during the last general faculty assembly. While the professors of the Arcane School debated their agendas with pride and vigor, the faculty of our Sword School sat in meek silence..."

A heavy stillness settled over the room. Several professors cast their gazes downward, flushed with shame.

"Perhaps this is a tremendous opportunity for us, esteemed colleagues. Even if the petition fails, it matters not. If we allow this state of affairs to persist, the Arcane School will look down on us for all eternity."

The professors gathered around the table harbored vastly different ambitions, petty rivalries, and conflicting personal agendas. Yet beneath all their differences, there was a single sentiment they all shared.

"Since when did mere mages stand above knights?"

A deep, simmering resentment toward the Arcane School. Or more precisely, an instinctual, deep-seated aversion toward the entire breed of mages.

Berhal had tapped directly into that collective grudge. The unspoken, decades-long tension between martial practitioners and spellcasters had reached a boiling point in recent years.

'This is precisely why the Dean appointed me to this post,' Berhal thought.

To check the runaway arrogance of the Arcane School and restore the Sword School to its rightful glory. This small administrative petition was shaping up to be an impeccable casus belli.

'Wait... if I think about it...' Marchen's self-serving mind began spinning furiously. 'If this fails, we can simply pin the blame on Ziel. But if it succeeds, we land a glorious blow against the Arcane School!'

Realizing that stubborn opposition would only paint her in an unflattering light, she swiftly changed her tune.

"The Department Head speaks the absolute truth! The time has come to teach those arrogant mages a lesson!"

Berhal offered a quiet, wry smirk and nodded. "Excellent. What say the rest of you?"

"I, too, have grown thoroughly sick of the Arcane School's condescension lately," Idel chimed in, adjusting his spectacles. "I believe this is a worthy pursuit."

"Very good, Professor Idel."

Elkanto naturally backed the motion with eager nods, and even Professor Isabella—who held the greatest authority among the senior faculty after Berhal—offered an amused, graceful nod of assent.

"I concur."

"Splendid. Then with the unanimous consent of the faculty... we shall move forward with the submission."

Swept up in the sudden wave of bravado, Marchen shot out of her chair with a raised fist.

"Let us strike the Arcane School where it hurts!"

Naturally, an awkward silence followed. Not a single person joined ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in her theatrical outburst.

'There she goes again, making a fool of herself...'

'Good grief, does she think no one can see right through her?'

Flushing crimson, Marchen cleared her throat and slid sheepishly back into her seat.

Regardless of her embarrassment, the motion had passed. The entire department was now committed to the fight.

Watching the exchange unfold from across the table, Ziel nodded slightly to himself, thoroughly impressed.

'Cadet Karen Aswan will be deeply moved,' he mused in earnest. 'To think the professors care so profoundly about the welfare of a single student.'