You're So Bad at This - 4
The inter-class competition remained a fierce three-way race, with the Imperial faction—more precisely, Ainter's class—holding a slim lead over Ryutis's and Later's classes.
Of course it did. The vast majority of Imperial Academy students were citizens of the Empire, and nearly all of them had united behind Ainter's victory. If anything, it was astonishing that Ryutis and Later were still only trailing by a hair despite that wall of Imperial solidarity.
"The Empire always wins!"
"Long live the Empire! Long live His Excellency the Marquis of Idrafen!"
Slim lead or not, there was no denying the Empire was winning. From the horse races onward, Ainter's class had not surrendered first place even once, and the Imperial students were losing their minds over it.
"There's still plenty of events left, and they're already acting like they've won."
"Ever heard the saying that it isn't over until it's over?"
Naturally, foreign students bristled at a level of celebration that made it sound as if the Empire had already locked up the championship. But the Imperial students just laughed them off as sore losers refusing to face reality.
"So who's in first, again?"
"Don't be so hard on them. They only ever come in second—maybe they can't even read the number one."
"""Hahahahaha!"""
Yes, the competition wasn't finished. But the Empire had held first place the entire time, so of course they assumed the Empire would be the one still standing at the end.
These lunatics.
I quietly shook my head as I watched the spectacular teabagging. Even as a third party I was impressed by the sheer shamelessness of it—I could only imagine how furious the foreign students must have been. If the Empire somehow blew the lead now, this would become a black mark they could never wash off before graduation.
Still, I didn't step in to stop the "cheering" (read: teabagging). No matter how unhinged it got, this was ultimately kids fighting kids. Academy students throwing themselves into an Academy event. As the Emperor had said, it was not something an adult—let alone an outsider—needed to meddle in.
Besides, looking at the state of them, they wouldn't have listened even if I'd tried. The moment I told them to tone it down, I'd probably get hit with "Is the Inspector not happy about the Empire's victory?" and slapped with a non-Imperial label for good measure.
At this rate I'm going to end up under investigation myself.
Unifying public opinion and crushing anyone who pushed back—as the Minister-designate of the Inspectorate Ministry, I had to admit it was a textbook inspection technique. If a few of these kids had been born a few years earlier, they might have gone far.
Which was why I found myself half looking forward to it. Maybe a handful of them would turn into the fresh new blood that would prop up the Inspectorate one day.
They'll sort themselves out.
I watched the feverish cheering a little longer, then turned away. Unless the students went completely feral and decided "in that case, we storm the ringleaders," a little trash talk like this was fine to let slide.
Even a rice cooker needs a vent for the steam, or the whole pot blows. Students needed somewhere to let off heat so their passion wouldn't explode into actual violence.
"What do you even have left if the Knight Kingdom puts down its swords?"
"Funny words coming from a so-called magical superpower that still loses to the Magic Lord."
"Don't fight, you two. In front of the Empire you're both the same bottom tier anyway."
...It wouldn't explode, right?
They're not about to start a bench-clearing brawl, are they?
I was seriously worried. Students who had spent their whole lives living with noble dignity, charging onto the field throwing punches? While screaming their nationalities?
Just imagining it made my chest seize up. If something like that actually happened, it would go down in Academy history forever.
And it would be a black mark neither the headmaster nor I would ever live down.
Shit.
I almost felt tears coming on. Why, in the twilight of a career where I was supposed to be careful even of falling leaves, was this kind of disaster landing on me?
That damn little brother of mine.
Yes—no matter how I looked at it, this was Erich's fault. Ryutis and Later going berserk was an annual tradition, and Ainter had been living quietly until Erich filled his head with nonsense. Those three at least had some mitigating circumstances.
But Erich? I could think about it a hundred times and still not forgive him.
Just you wait.
I pictured Erich out there throwing himself into the events with all his heart, and made myself a promise.
One day I was going to beat him legally, under the sacred banner of sparring.
Enen was truly a merciful god.
"The Empire won again!"
"Hey, don't hang your heads! Second place is still great! We're just in first!"
"Hold your heads high, my friends! Losing to the strong is nothing to be ashamed of!"
If He weren't, this kind of thing would never have happened in the final semester before graduation. Surely He was granting me this novel spectacle as a farewell gift before I returned to Armein.
It was so moving I could hardly open my eyes. I wanted nothing more than to crawl into a corner and pass out.
"Father."
But as the officer responsible for Armein's escort force—and the de facto representative of the three kingdoms' military presence—I was not permitted that luxurious escape.
"What is it?"
"Well... the knights' mood is rather unstable."
Perosa spoke with obvious embarrassment, and I let out a quiet sigh. If even Perosa was using a word like "unstable" in front of me, the knights' patience had already hit its limit.
"They're making a fuss about teaching the students a lesson this instant."
"I see."
I managed a nod at the more concrete report.
It was a bitter situation. Knights who had come all the way to the Empire to guard His Highness Ryutis—knights stationed here as Armein's representatives—had worked themselves into a frenzy. They were no longer watching a student contest as adults. They were watching the struggle of junior knights as knights of Armein.
I understand how they feel.
Of course I did. I was a proud knight of Armein myself—how could I not understand? I only endured because my position forbade reckless movement, and because I feared what would follow if I moved.
An escort force could not act for personal reasons. If Armein moved, the other nations might move as well. And if an incident broke out over this, the blame would fall first on Armein for acting first.
That was why we had held back even after the Academy's inter-class competition had become a contest of national pride. At the same time, we had been trying to keep the students' rivalry from spilling beyond the Academy walls.
"This contest must be decided by the students' own strength. A victory won with outsiders interfering will never be recognized. If they truly care for Armein, tell them to endure and cheer."
And even if adults stepped into a children's fight and won—could anyone call that a real victory?
"Yes, Father. I'll see to it."
Perosa understood my meaning and nodded.
A small mercy. If Perosa, younger than the rest of them, showed restraint, the other knights would hold on a little longer as well.
"I'll also drop a quiet word with the Yuven side."
"Do that."
The follow-up caught me off guard for a second, but I answered naturally enough.
So Yuven had been on the verge of intervening with their students too. At least the Holy Kingdom was staying quiet—that was something.
...Why now, at the very end.
No. It wasn't something. The mere fact that this was happening at all was a nightmare.
I, who was supposed to protect His Majesty the King and the royal family, had followed His Highness Ryutis into a foreign country and been turned overnight into the "representative of the three kingdoms"—which was just a fancy way of saying a human shield. That alone was torment enough.
I had believed I was finally about to escape that torment. Then this blew up with a single step left to go.
Maybe my offerings were too thin.
Apparently my devotion to Enen had grown a little faint.
Villar's and Olivia's faces had grown darker by the hour—until, at some tipping point, both of them settled into an unnatural calm.
They've achieved enlightenment.
I had a rough idea what had happened, and a heavy solemnity pressed down on my chest. They had simply given up because they couldn't take any more.
It was pitiful. Both Villar and Olivia had been standing on the threshold of a glorious graduation at the end of this very semester—and then a certain little brother's sky-high mess had detonated everything. As the older brother of the culprit, I would have been failing basic human decency if I didn't feel guilty.
Unfortunately, there was nothing I could actually do for the two newly enlightened souls.
"Call everyone nearby! We've got the numbers!"
"Finish it before they can gather! Pile on all at once!"
"What are you sitting around for?! Get in here!"
Somewhere around the midpoint of the inter-class competition, the bench-clearings finally started erupting for real.
With reports of brawls breaking out on every side, I had no bandwidth left for anyone else's feelings. I was already drowning—what good was guilt, and what did decency even mean right now?
Damn it.
I moved toward the latest bench-clearing as it unfolded. If a fight was happening right in front of me, I at least had to make a show of breaking it up.
Stranger still: this world had never even had bench-clearings—or anything that could properly be called a sports match—and yet these idiots had spontaneously turned the inter-class competition into a professional sporting event.
Dead-serious athletes. Passionate fight songs. Home-team-obsessed crowds. And now the players themselves clearing the benches.
In what universe is this a romance fantasy?
No matter how I looked at it, this was a modern sports story. Had this world drifted genres without telling anyone?
And it was almost impressive that kids who had known nothing about any of this had climbed, entirely on their own, all the way to the bench-clearing stage. Maybe fistfights between athletes really were a human instinct—
Huh?
As I pushed toward the athletes to break up the violence, a familiar face appeared among them.
Erich.
...
You little bastard.
Caught you.
"Stop this at once! This is a place for fair competition—what is this chaos?!"
The moment I saw Erich's face I charged in with a full-throated roar. I had to subdue him by force before the bench-clearing wound down on its own.
This was a blessing the gods had sent to comfort me.
A blessing that let me beat Erich completely legally.