Chapter 15 — Historic Achievement
“I'll need to get confirmation from the Head of Student Affairs. For now, would you please secure the area?”
The inspection officer said it casually, crouched over checking the corpse's head.
Bedrick, pale as a sheet, nodded and moved to comply. He never met my eyes again.
'So the Head of Student Affairs has entered the picture.'
The Head of Student Affairs was the Republic specialist. Identifying a Republican agent would be trivial for him.
The problem was that volatile temperament of his — the kind that turned feral the moment the Republic came up.
Before long, the smell of cigar smoke drifted over. A thickset, broad-shouldered middle-aged man appeared, his face plastered with exhaustion, flicking ash from his cigar.
It was the Head of Student Affairs.
"A Republican has shown up?"
"Yes, sir. We haven't yet verified whether he's genuine."
At the officer's explanation, the man's gaze swung toward me. In those wrinkled eyes, a rusted, weathered authority gleamed plain as day.
"Don't recognize the face."
"A new guard assigned to Squad 42."
"The quality of our elite guard has certainly improved."
The Head of Student Affairs wore his mockery openly. Fortunately, his attention soon shifted to the head on the floor.
"Hmhm."
He crouched down and examined it closely. For a moment he looked exactly like a detective surveying a crime scene — and then came the shocking part. He scooped up the blood that had trickled from the neck with his thumb, tasted it, and checked the scent.
"He used a curse?"
The Head of Student Affairs said, looking back at me.
The Empire maintained an official stance of suppressing black magic, but at Elysium Academy, black magic was simply one field of study. There was even a professor of it, in fact. The logic went: if a sword stabs someone, the fault lies not with the sword but with its wielder.
Granted, black magic was handled with that much more rigor — but there was no particular reason to hide the fact that I could use it.
"Yes, sir."
"Surprising. You don't have a sinister look about you."
"That's discrimination against black magic users."
"Always bickering about something."
When the listening inspection officer pointed this out, the Head of Student Affairs clicked his tongue softly, straightened his back, and rose to his feet.
"He's a Republican, all right."
"A... a real Republican?"
As Bedrick blurted this out in desperation, the man's gaze slid over to him.
"Do you have a problem with my decision?"
"N-no, sir."
"Good. For a second I thought I had another Republican on my hands."
The Head of Student Affairs clamped the cigar between his teeth and smiled, and it was a savage thing to see. Bedrick, visibly startled, backed away three full steps.
Exhaling a long plume of smoke, he turned his eyes back to me.
"A brand-new guard catches a Republican. A historic achievement."
"Just good luck, sir. He ambushed me with a curse, so I couldn't react."
"Good luck, was it—"
The Head of Student Affairs chuckled low, as if he'd just heard a very amusing joke.
"Things are about to get rowdy enough as it is, so keep this quiet until the entrance ceremony. Everyone stay disciplined. That's an order."
It was the reaction I'd expected.
In the Empire, Republicans were considered vermin. The kind that carried a truly virulent disease, at that. The entrance ceremony was just around the corner — you couldn't exactly advertise that a bug had crawled out of the woodwork. Covering it up was the natural move.
"You'll be rewarded, so don't worry on that account."
"The reward is fine."
I said the thing the Head of Student Affairs most wanted to hear. His thick, plentiful eyebrows climbed upward.
"Fine, you say?"
"Yes, sir. I only did my job."
"Did his job, did he—"
The Head of Student Affairs stared at me in silence for a long moment, as if trying to read what lay beneath. Fat chance of that.
"We've got an interesting one. What's your name?"
"Grave."
"Fine name. I'm Logan."
Logan extended his hand. It was a hand like wrought iron, calloused raw.
I clasped it.
"A pleasure, Logan."
"The pleasure's mine."
Logan, the grizzled old Sword Master, laughed heartily.
* * *
Logan's handling of the matter was refreshingly swift and decisive.
Thanks to him, everything wrapped up without a hitch—
And the day of the entrance ceremony dawned.
'Hm.'
At the sound of furtive rustling, I opened my eyes slowly.
There was Milo, creeping into position for an ambush.
I'd shown Milo a rather vicious side of myself yesterday. A normal person wouldn't have dared even make eye contact, yet here he was, trying his luck again.
'The man certainly has guts.'
Guts couldn't be trained into a person. You had to be born with them. In that sense, Milo had real talent.
Granted, he was still a hopeless mess of it.
"AAAGH! He was definitely asleep!!"
Milo, bruised across the face yet again, erupted in fury.
"What's the assignment today?"
"It's the entrance ceremony, so everyone's probably getting deployed to the Auditorium."
"Front entrance of the Auditorium would be good."
"No, that's not how task assignments work—"
Grumbling all the while, Milo fell in line. He was catching on much faster now.
Soon the roll call began. The mood was heavier than yesterday — though even at that, the whole squad still had the same one-screw-loose feel to it.
The Chief Guard mumbled his way through some suitably dignified remarks, the guards barked their responses with proper spirit, and the roll call was done.
Then Hanswel distributed the assignments.
The men I'd killed yesterday had originally been assigned to the Auditorium's front entrance, apparently — so our entire squad was posted around the main doors.
"Do not cause any problems today."
Hanswel warned, eyeing Milo. Milo stared back at me with a face full of things he wanted to say, but I brushed him off lightly.
We set out for the Auditorium.
The hall was decorated exactly like the entrance ceremony I'd seen in the game. Floating candles, tables laden with food — the quintessential academy entrance banquet straight out of a romance fantasy.
Squad 42's post sat a little apart from the main doors, which gave us a full view of the hall.
I took my time surveying the bustling space.
It was the first time I'd seen it from this angle.
In the game, only the ceremony itself ever got any spotlight, so I'd never noticed it — but now I could see the guards hiding in every spot the students couldn't see.
"You ever try the meat? Snagged some when they brought it out. Ridiculously good."
"I had the bread. Meat seemed popular, though. Bread was great too."
"Think there'll be leftovers?"
"There always are. Freshmen are too worked up to eat properly."
"Good thing they'll all be dead later anyway."
The guards chattered away in low voices.
Then the freshmen began trickling in.
"Whoa! It's gorgeous!"
"There's food! It really is a banquet!"
Wide-eyed, the freshmen gasped at every turn. I swept a casual glance across them.
Just then, the guards began murmuring among themselves. Listening closely, I caught that they were placing bets.
"Most handsome? Obviously Kilian! Sole heir to the Magic Tower Coalition — the man's money is rotting!"
"Money isn't everything, you idiot."
"Then what matters?"
"Faith, obviously! Have you seen Karel's skin? It practically glows!"
They were conducting a deadly serious debate over the most trivial subject imaginable.
"Most handsome? Clearly it's His Highness the Crown Prince."
At the last man's words, everyone went quiet. Not a single rebuttal was offered.
Right at that moment, a commotion broke out near the main doors.
I turned to look, and saw students bowing their heads and backing away one after another. A path had opened through the packed crowd.
An extremely handsome blond man strode down it as if the way had been cleared for him by right.
'The Crown Prince.'
The Crown Prince was a man who lacked for absolutely nothing.
He'd been born with innate talent, his character was upright, and his blood was the most noble in the Empire. On the surface, he looked like a flawless specimen — not a single flaw to pick at.
The reality was slightly different.
'A protagonist-complex bastard.'
The Crown Prince was utterly certain that he was the protagonist of the world.
In a way, it was only natural. Imperial Crown Prince, genius of the sword — a man like that could reasonably believe himself the lead of the story.
The problem was that the real protagonist was someone else entirely.
"Screeeech. Screeeech."
Evangeline made her entrance, glasses squeaking noisily as she cleaned them. Beside her, Andy kept his head buried low.
Truly a shame, but that was the protagonist.
'If something like that is the protagonist, I'd go insane too.'
Familiar figures began gathering around the Crown Prince.
Karel, the templar raised directly by the Holy Nation. Kilian, heir to the Magic Tower Coalition. Taros, son of the Lord of Death. And Raven of the Full Moon—
All of them men I knew well.
Because they were Evangeline's male lead candidates from the game.
The hall's attention converged on that group.
Mine, however, went the opposite direction.
At the very tail end of the freshman crowd stood several figures who kept apart like oil that refused to mix with water. A girl so gloomy that even black mages — gloomy enough themselves — avoided her. A woman draped in a cape, badge of a saint candidate, whose entire body was wallpapered in tattoos. A fat princess sweating as if she stood in a rainstorm. And then, simply, Evangeline.
Ranked from the very bottom by entrance exam scores, it was a rock-solid lineup, every one of them.
"Now, the professors will enter."
The voice of the woman presiding over the ceremony cut through my musings. Soon the professors began to file in.
"The Twin Witches!"
"The King of Adventurers is here too!"
The freshmen buzzed with excitement.
It was a faculty worthy of the hype, all things considered. A bit short of my expectations, but.
'Not bad enough, either way.'
I clicked my tongue briefly. I'd felt it since Leon, but the professors' level was disappointing.
"Introducing Professor Roxveil, the Knight of Radiance, who oversees swordsmanship."
At the words Knight of Radiance, a cheer went up.
A middle-aged man in a black uniform ascended, soaking in the applause.
'The Knight of Radiance.'
True to academy-romance-fantasy form, Evangeline's male lead candidates weren't limited to students.
The Knight of Radiance Roxveil was a professor — and a male lead candidate entangled with Evangeline all the same.
Which was exactly why my eyes narrowed whenever I looked at the man.
"Where is he?"
"Oh, right. Him—"
Just then, the freshmen started looking for someone.
The Knight of Radiance, the Twin Witches, every heavyweight professor had already taken the stage.
Come to think of it, the presiding woman hadn't yet put down her magical implement. The entrance ceremony was, at its core, a banquet — and being called last meant you carried that much weight.
Who on earth ranked below the Knight of Radiance?
Then the emcee spoke into the implement.
"Professor Leon."
She added only a brief explanation, and at the same moment a roar of cheers crashed down.
"Whoa! That's him — the unofficial Imperial Sword from those rumors—"
"No, I heard he's the Magic Tower Coalition's ultimate weapon!"
"They say he caught a black mage on the train to the Academy! A black mage who commands demons, no less!"
Only then did I understand what was going on.
'Andy did outstanding work.'
I'd asked Andy to inflate Leon's reputation as much as possible, and he'd apparently outdone himself with dutiful precision.
Soon Leon ascended, face drained white. He wore the expression of a man climbing his own execution platform.
To me it looked exactly like a deathbed—
"Wow, his presence is unreal."
The freshmen began interpreting on their own.
'Good prospects.'
I nodded in satisfaction.
"His Eminence Cardinal Sen Vandro, who serves concurrently as Vice Principal."
At the woman's words, the hall fell silent in an instant. It was a different silence from any they'd shown the other faculty — one shot through with awe.
Soon an old man with a kindly smile ascended the podium.
With his benevolent face and stark white vestments, the old man looked every inch a saint to any observer. His nickname, in fact, was the Saint.
The reality could not have been more different.
'The Pope of the Apocalypse.'
Watching him, I drummed my fingers lightly against the hilt of my sword.