War on the Table (2)
Private training ground of the Gibraltar count's family. I arrived at the training ground without Noir or even Father and quickly swung my staff.
"Sir Robert. You're an academy graduate, aren't you?"
"Yes!" Robert gripped his wooden greatsword and swung it hard at my long staff.
"After graduating from the academy, I came straight to Gibraltar!"
"Not to the Empire?"
"Y-Young master!" Robert faltered, but he easily blocked my thrusting strike with the staff.
"If you're trying to throw me off to score a point...!"
"No. This is just pure conversation."
"During a spar?!"
"A spar? You're unilaterally blocking all my attacks right now."
I swung the staff once more. Beating an intermediate knight with a 13-year-old body was impossible, even using mana.
"This time, I'll go with this."
"Ugh, I'm not a scarecrow!"
"But no one else takes it this well for me."
"Kuh!"
I kept swinging the staff. Robert occasionally countered with swings of his greatsword, and I narrowly dodged them while steadying my stance.
"Exile and enrolling in the Imperial Academy was an option too."
"Of course, it might've been easier there!"
The biggest difference between the kingdom and the Empire? Undoubtedly, the academies.
"A fake noble like me would've been no better than a stone if I'd gone to one!"
The kingdom's academies were 70% nobles. Not just students— even the faculty were all nobles.
"Hanging out with commoners?"
"What dangerous talk! You'd be treated like an idiot among the nobles!"
The remaining commoners were either rich merchants' kids or servants brought by noble heirs.
"It's not ignoring commoners—they'd say you're insulting all nobles!"
"Fair enough." Or lowly staff doing odd jobs.
"Nobles are superior from birth. Can't even compare to commoners."
Students who miraculously passed the exams were rare enough to count on one hand per year.
"So the academies just became a marriage market for burning love before weddings."
"M-Market?!"
"Not wrong, though."
Thus, the kingdom's academies often served as social venues.
"Men prefer bootleg booze and debauchery over training."
More about networking than education.
"Women enjoy tea times daily, debating which noble bachelor is prime stock and competing."
Seeking connections over learning—a place for noble heirs to scout marriage prospects before adulthood.
"Romance like your parents is rare. Most come out of the academy having found a match, right?"
Both Father and Mother had attended the academy. It didn't care about entry age, so despite their age gap, they'd met there around the same time.
"If you'd gone to the Imperial Academy, you'd have been dumped by some noble lady... whoops."
"That's not a feint!"
But what about the Empire?
"If I'd gone to the Empire, I'd have just studied and trained like a madman!!"
The Empire's academies were pure education mills.
"Three years straight of nothing but studying! That's not an academy—it's an officer school under the military!"
"Can't argue."
"They'd squeeze out masters however they could! Up at dawn to study, studying till midnight before collapsing!"
"Spot on."
If the kingdom birthed heroes in crises, the Empire built academies everywhere to hunt talent systematically. All under fancy slogans like holistic growth through diverse experiences and talent cultivation—
'The Empire starts its kingdom domination at the academies.'
To rule the kingdom someday, they'd establish academies there.
Crack! The moment the greatsword met the staff, it couldn't withstand the weight and splintered.
"Ah, young master?! Are you okay?"
"Fine. As expected of you, Sir Robert. Thanks for going all out."
I'd dodged everything, but the grazed spots stung like scratches.
"That's because you've grown so fast."
"Beginner knight level yet?"
"You could be a knight by infusing mana into weapons, but if beginner knights went all-out to kill you..."
Robert crossed his arms briefly.
"...In a spar, you'd win."
"Real combat?"
"......2:8?"
"That's plenty. Thanks."
In a kill-or-be-killed scenario, 20% win rate against beginner knights. At just 13.
"Young master. I'm genuinely scared. When you become an adult, will you just pull out a master title like candy from your pocket?"
"Didn't know? I'm actually a genius. Can't use swords, but decent at everything else."
"Like how I wonder what it'd be if I'd been born in the Empire instead of the kingdom—you wonder the same if not born a Gibraltar..."
"Meaningless hypothetical. You and I are here in Gibraltar, in Nostrum."
I set down the broken staff and massaged my muscles to loosen them.
"Sir Robert. Time for a quiz."
"Ugh. How about we keep sparring?"
"A knight who graduated the great Nostrum Academy can't even answer a 13-year-old's politics quiz?"
"Politics wasn't in the curriculum!"
"That's why nobles from such academies just keep inheriting power—"
And the kingdom fell.
"Never mind. Simple question. Why does the Empire want to build an academy in the capital? Just say the first answer that comes to mind."
Three years. Robert had been my sparring partner, and in return, I'd taught him diverse ways of thinking.
"Hmm... To foster friendship between Empire and kingdom for peace. Surface reason for the public."
"25 points. Hint: The academy site's been prepped by the royals since three years ago."
Three years prior, the kingdom had started land prep. Morgania handled it directly.
"Not a truce, but an armistice?"
"50 points. The academy's the start."
I snapped the broken staff in half at the middle.
"Current generation's grudges aside, let future youth live in harmony without strife. That's the pitch for an Imperial-style academy right in the capital."
"But the kingdom runs it? They're just dumping money into an enemy state? Fine by us."
"They'll pull profits equal to the investment. Guess one, get 100 points."
"Then this Q&A ends! Hmm..."
Robert pondered more seriously than when blocking my attacks.
"...Got it! The answer!"
"What?"
"Sending Imperial beauties to study abroad and seduce you with a honey trap!"
"......Ha."
A hollow laugh escaped me.
"Sir Robert. You applied for leave recently. Four days."
"Y-Yes! Um, if it's okay..."
"Take the full week. I'll tell Father."
"Pardon?"
Robert's mouth curved to his ears.
"200 points."
"......Suddenly scared to take leave?"
Robert beamed at first, then turned serious.
"The Empire's building the academy to poach the kingdom's top talent, right?"
"Yes."
"Sending handsome studs and beauties to seduce kingdom youth into defecting or betraying!"
"Exactly."
Academy construction? Minimum hundreds of billions initial, similar annual ops. And not just any—university-level?
'Trillions easy.'
Cash raises flags, but under "education," folks buy it.
"Empire'll send exchange students. They'll enchant kingdom youth."
In the future, countless boys and girls fell for Imperials and defected.
"I see... But young master, did the passing grade go up?"
"Huh?"
"It was 100 before. 200 means..."
"Sir Robert. A knight's intuition—"
"Dodging means I hit the Empire's core?"
"......."
Knight instincts, always sharp.
"That's their ultimate goal. The count won't spill, but you're unmarried."
"Yes. Correct."
Four years from now.
"Imperial academies standardize: all 17-year-olds enter year one."
"Pardon? Age..."
"Imperial style."
I'd entered the joint kingdom-Empire academy at 17.
"So tons of Imperial girls your age. Haha, wow."
"Why laugh?"
"Your status needs at least an Imperial princess. Possible?"
"Heh."
A chuckle slipped out.
"Yeah. At least a princess."
* * *
The appointed day arrived. Gibraltar bustled more than ever, the whole family in formal attire to greet the guest at the county seat.
"Her Highness Queen Carmen arrives."
Rumble. Hooves thundered.
The carriage halting at the mansion's main gate was top-grade ebony wood.
'Same taste.'
Morganias favored the antique. They claimed solid people need no flash—sounds profound, but it's peak luxury.
'Ebony carriage from Elf Forest, centuries old.'
Clunk. The door opened. No coachman needed—mana flared, auto-unlatching.
Click, click. Queen Carmen descended. Green shoes matching her eyes, black dress like her hair. Sheer cardigan over shoulders. Minimal jewels or ornaments, rare in the capital, but her aura dominated.
'Over 10 billion.'
Dress, cardigan, shoes—price screamed.
"Long time no see, Queen Carmen."
"...Grey Gibraltar."
She walked straight from the gate, stopping before me.
"You've grown so much taller."
"Yes. Growth spurt."
"......."
I'd once looked up at her; now eye-level.
"Taller than the countess? Or am I wrong?"
"A bit."
"......I see. Anyway, where's the count?"
"Reception room, naturally. Here to greet you."
I extended a hand to Queen Carmen.
"Allow me to escort you."
Some knights behind her frowned. A Gibraltar heir escorting? Even the count personally would suffice.
"Enough."
She waved them off lazily.
"Only Mente follows. Rest wait outside."
"Yes!"
Knights positioned instantly.
'Impressive.'
Truly—
"Like 'Why does everyone question my orders?'"
"...Your Highness."
"Hehe, I was like that young too."
She offered her hand; I took it per etiquette, leading up the stairs.
"Mother can't join, FYI."
"I know. No plans to meet..."
"If you're okay, she said meeting's fine."
"......."
Queen Carmen entered slowly; I matched her pace.
"New baby's a boy?"
"Don't know."
"Count didn't say?"
"Father didn't check."
Masters sense gender via mana waves, but he hadn't.
"Loves the child regardless. Hah."
She smiled bitterly.
"Stepmom to three, why not four?"
"Bold words indoors. Father's listening."
"Let him. A queen visits, and he hides in the reception—"
"Rough mouth."
She gripped my hand tight.
"Told you. Divorce? Over my dead body."
"Wha...?"
The red-haired man descending the central stairs, hands behind back—Queen Carmen blinked, frozen.
"Grey."
"Yes, Father."
"Good work. I'll take over."
Father approached grumpily; I released her hand and stepped aside.
"......."
Glancing at the gate, Morgania knights outside fidgeted, eyes darting.
"Grey. Guide Mente. I'll escort personally."
"Yes, Father."
Did she know the sacrifice to drag Father from reception to central stairs?
'Really went big.'
Post-meeting, hell from Father awaits. Fine by me.
"Carmen."
"Ah, y-yes. No."
Effect? Tremendous. Queen glitched.
"...C-Count? If you're okay..."
"......."
Father whispered in her ear; she bowed head, offering her hand.
"Grey. What just..."
Mente approached. Months apart, but no time for reunion.
"How in the world...?"
Seeing Father escorting with her hand—like witnessing a flying pig. Or capital folk hearing Father betrayed, opening gorge to Empire.
"Unless I misheard..."
"Lady Morgania. Father's old pet name for Queen Carmen."
That face.
"Game over once he calls her 'Carmen.'"
To Father, she's always easy.
"Mente—no, Master."
Then, now.
"Personally."
And in the future, after becoming governor, Father's breakdown, betrayal, execution.
"If not Gibraltar, not their son, I'd root for Queen Carmen wholeheartedly."
She'd loved him enough to suicide on his death news—loves still.
"Unrequited love? Makes me cheer hardest."
