Wait, Is This an Academy Story?

Clang! Clang! The crisp ring of metal clashing against metal echoed across the training grounds.

Every Monday morning, this familiar scene unfolded in the Roze Tail family training yard. He'd lost count of how many times it had happened. But today felt a little different. Spotting a tiny opening, he lunged first, thrusting his sword ‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠forward.

"Ngh!"

His opponent scrambled into a defensive stance, startled. She blocked the blade, but the force overwhelmed her, crumbling her footing. Instinct kicked in—he channeled mana into his sword. A blue haze shimmered at the tip.

Sching!

He swung with full power. She desperately raised her blade vertically to parry, but it was futile. Her sword split clean in two like a sheet of paper.

"W-Wait! Sword Aura is cheating!"

She cried out in panic, staring at her beloved weapon now halved. She even thrust her hand forward like she was yelling "stop."

Only then did he shrug and pull back his sword.

"Ah, sorry. Can't quite control it lately."

He flashed an awkward grin, and the onlookers surrounding them erupted in boos.

"Boo! Excuses are for cowards! Die already!"

"Hey! Getting crushed by someone young enough to be your son!"

"You've been eating Roze Tail paychecks for years! Suck it up!"

...Hang on, he was the one who used Sword Aura. Why were they getting roasted? Regardless of seniority, the crowd turned on his opponent without mercy. She stood there dumbfounded, at a loss, so he sheathed his sword and stepped forward.

"Hey, good work today. Let's call this one my foul."

"...No, sir. Even without Sword Aura, you'd have beaten me."

The female soldier scratched the back of her head, mumbling sheepishly despite her cool act. But he knew it too—she'd have lost either way.

Sword Expert. The realm where one could stably coat a blade with power born from burning mana. He'd reached it over a year ago. No soldier in the household could beat him with the sword anymore.

When he'd first arrived, he was just some gutter rat who'd rolled in from nowhere. Demanding to be the eldest daughter's personal bodyguard? Of course they'd eyed him like he thought swordplay was child's play.

But after wallowing in the mud together, sweating it out side by side, and crossing blades every Monday morning like this... at some point, everyone started calling him "young master."

"Can't just call the future lady's partner whatever."

"Hey, even joking like that—if it reaches the family head's ears, ‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you're dead."

"Eh... she's been seriously considering it lately, though?"

"What bullshit."

He tried to brush off the female soldier's joke with a laugh when—

"Young master! The lady's here!"

A rookie soldier came sprinting up, relaying the message like a herald.

"Oh, yeah? Guess I'll head out then."

"Go on in!"

He'd hoped to cool off a bit first, but no rest for the weary. Still, with the master here, he couldn't exactly make her wait. He hopped up and hurried outside.

"Aren!"

Beyond the fence ringing the training grounds, the lady waved enthusiastically at him. As bright and sunny as ever.

"Must be a hassle—why come all the way out here? We'll meet at the dining hall anyway."

"Hehe, 'cause it's nice going together."

"Fair enough."

Two's better than one, after all. He just hated meeting her drenched in sweat like this. He probably reeked. Didn't she care?

Speaking of which...

"Aren, why're you suddenly avoiding my eyes?"

‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Nah, just... blinded for a sec."

"Suddenly?"

"Sun's too bright."

...He was struck anew by how much she'd grown. The lady. Her hair, obviously.

After scrubbing off the sweat and finishing breakfast, he ended up sharing tea alone with the lady, who wanted some afternoon time.

He knew squat about tea, so he just tilted the cup out of habit when—

"Aren, check this out. Know what it is?"

"Hm? What's that?"

She suddenly got all excited and shoved something at him. A ‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠single sheet of paper clutched in her hand, crammed with sleek, hard-to-read script.

Skimming past the fluff, he eyed the bold title at the top.

Let's see... Teleos Academy Enrollment Proposal?

"Ahem. You know how I wrote that paper on spirit arts a while back, right?"

"Yeah, 'course."

She puffed up proudly, referencing the event from about six months ago. How could he forget? It was the culmination of seven years of her blood and sweat. And the academic world had reacted pretty well, from what he'd heard.

"They must've liked it at Teleos Academy. Got a scouting offer."

"Scouting offer?"

His eyes widened at the unexpected bombshell. Teleos Academy—the pinnacle of prestige in the Valkadia Empire? People from other countries flooded in just to study there. For them to want her?

Which meant...

"That's insane."

"Totally insane."

Their reactions synced perfectly. Yeah, "insane" was the only word for it. While others clawed through brutal entrance exams and sky-high competition, she'd basically clicked "paper submitted" for a free pass.

Whoa, their lady was glowing with a halo today.

"You should've seen Mom's face when it arrived. Wish you'd been there."

"How was it?"

"Kinda awkward, like 'Hm... well, go ahead then.'"

"Pfft. Sounds hilarious."

He nearly spat out his tea imagining Camilla the knight's expression. Made sense, though. For seven years, the lady and Camilla had clashed endlessly—a mother pushing her daughter toward knighthood, a daughter stubbornly pursuing spirit arts. Like water and oil.

But realizing her talent had caught the eye of the empire's top institution? Must've been a trip. Impressive enough that even after all that stubbornness, she couldn't deny it. As he gazed at the lady—finally claiming her hard-won prize—with something like paternal pride,

"Oh, yeah—that means you're coming with me to the academy! Got Mom's permission too."

"Me?"

He blanked at the one-sided announcement. He didn't mind going, but... could he even?

They preached merit over birth, letting commoners in if talented, but...

"A guy like me gets in?"

"Yup, no prob! See this special clause?"

She pointed to some ant-scrawl at the bottom, explaining. "Guess they cut special admits some slack. Up to one escort—like a squire or guard—for student convenience."

"Damn, real VIP treatment."

"Right? And it's not just tagging along as a squire—you get to attend classes and live the academy life as a full student."

"Ooh..."

Nice. In a fantasy world, who wouldn't wanna check out an academy? Plus, she was a bit scatterbrained—sending her alone felt like tossing a kid by the riverside. Thanks to her, he was living way above his station.

"If that's the deal, count me in. Was worried you'd cause trouble out there alone."

"When have I ever caused trouble?!"

"Hm."

Lots to say, but he'd keep quiet. Protecting her dignity was part of the job.

"Hey, Aren—heard the news?"

"What news?"

She cupped her mouth like sharing a secret and whispered.

"Rumor is, the prelim enrollment list for the academy is stacked."

"Stacked how? Some big shots coming?"

Not super interested, he leaned back and munched a snack.

"Don't freak, okay? The Magic Tower Lord's disciple is enrolling."

"For real? That's huge—she's famous everywhere."

"Yeah, everyone's buzzing."

"Impressive."

Genuine awe. Even in this backwater barony, the Tower Lord's rep was legendary. Her disciple? A once-in-a-century genius, they said. For her to get scouted there? Go, lady.

"And the saintess is coming too. From the Libertan Holy Kingdom."

"...What?"

His eyes flickered as another bombshell hit. Saintess? That was a whole different league. The continent's most influential faith made flesh—some called her above even imperial princesses. Her enrolling?

"...Seriously?"

"Yup. Admission's approved; she's even doing the opening speech. Exciting, right?"

"......"

Her excited voice droned on, but it didn't register. That made two. Magic Tower heir. Holy Kingdom icon. Surely that was it—then her lips parted again.

"Oh, and the Bronheim ducal heir from the north is starting this term too."

"...Isn't that military brass?"

"Yep. Silvena Bronheim. Heir to the barbarian suppression commander."

"...Why would a battlefield vet bother with school?"

"Noble education requires academy credits, apparently. Empire's military kids are on edge."

His mouth went dry. Powerhouses who could spark international incidents, all converging? Same year?

...Hold up.

"Uh, no princesses?"

"There is. Luendel Kingdom's second princess, Siel Balshutain. Enrolled last year, second-year now. Didn't know?"

Magic Tower. Church. Military. Royalty. The four rival pillars, crammed into one school at once. Too perfectly staged for coincidence. Oh, and the sole special admit based on raw talent—no exam. A genius spirit mage (from a knight family) who wowed even the principal and profs.

Déjà vu hit hard. He knew this setup too well.

Of course he did.