Chapter 28
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 28
Chapter Title: Going to Pick Stars
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For a very brief moment, I doubted my own ears. No, I seriously wondered if the mana circuits in the communication orb had degraded and were now spouting nonsense.
"Hey, Princess. Is this communication orb busted? What did you just say?"
[......]
"Our own allied commander heard I was coming and ran away? Not the enemy, but our guys?"
[......That's the truth.]
"Is that something a human with a brain would do? It's not even a battlefield—I'm just heading to the training grounds, so why run? Do I look like I'm gonna eat them or something?"
[Rumors have spread. After word got out that you, Sir Kasian, and the great mage who just returned had smashed the Magic Tower and turned the mages into hellish slaves, everyone figured the knight orders were next on the list...]
"From the way you're talking, sounds like they've got plenty of skeletons in their closet too, huh?"
[Well... it's embarrassing, but I'll tell you the truth.]
Elicia hemmed and hawed for a long while before letting out a deep sigh and confessing.
[The Imperial Knight Orders right now... don't have many knights who can actually wield a sword properly. More precisely, you could say hardly any have ever drawn a blade in real combat.]
"What?"
Knight orders without knights who knew how to use swords. What was the difference between that and a chef who couldn't chop and only boiled instant noodles?
"Don't joke around. If the knights can't use swords, what do they fight with? Their mouths?"
[......Fighting with their mouths is about right.]
"......"
[I looked into it late, but... over the last hundred years, the standards for joining the knight orders changed. On the surface, it's merit-based, but dig deeper, and it's all about family titles and donation amounts—the selection process got corrupted.]
Elicia's voice grew quieter, almost shrinking.
[Sword training took a backseat to etiquette lessons. Real talent from commoners or low nobles couldn't advance without money or backing, so they all left for mercenary work or retired to the countryside...]
"....."
[The knights left now are mostly high noble brats... who handle silver forks at dinner better than heavy steel swords...]
"So, in other words."
I pressed a hand to my forehead. My blood pressure had shot past rising and straight into deranged laughter territory.
"The so-called commanders of the Imperial Knight Orders are parachute kids who bought their uniforms with bribes, posing around without swinging a sword once—like decorative houseplants?"
[......I can't deny it. I'm sorry.]
"This is insane..."
The mages had turned into a circus troupe, the blacksmiths into artsy weirdos, and now even the knights were ballerinas?
How rotten was this country? I thought the roots were gone and only the pillar remained, but even that pillar was crawling with termites.
No point handing the world's finest sword to someone who couldn't swing it. Give a monkey the latest assault rifle, but if it doesn't know how to pull the trigger, it's just a heavy club.
"Haa..."
I let out a deep sigh and asked again.
"Hey. Who's the Knight Commander?"
[......Yes. It's Minister of Finance Geller's nephew.]
"......"
That lard-ass duke I'd threatened in the conference room by stabbing the round table and poking his gut. His nephew was in charge of the empire's national defense... I could picture it without even looking.
"What a circus. Truly spectacular."
Back in my day, the Knight Commander was the Swordmaster called Ironwall Lios. Pure swordsmanship and physical prowess, no dirty mage swords or black magic—he was a monster who fought better than me.
A hero who'd single-handedly held off a demon legion commander.
And now that noble seat was occupied by some piggy noble who'd bought his title with cash. If Lios underground knew, he'd bust open his coffin and hack them all down.
I gripped the communication orb tightly.
"Did that bastard run too?"
[Yes.]
These guys had survival instincts sharper than anyone. Like rats sensing an earthquake first—spot on.
[Word spread far and wide that a rabid imperial mad dog with no mercy had been unleashed...]
"What the actual fuck..."
I was so flabbergasted that curses spilled out loud. They hadn't fled from enemies on the battlefield—they ran scared from a friendly commander who might train them? And they hadn't even seen my face yet?
What kind of brains did they have for their thought circuits to spin like that...?
"Hey, Elicia."
[Yes?]
"How the hell haven't you guys collapsed already?"
If elves or beastkin ever got serious and pushed hard, the capital would've been wide open and the empire doomed in a flash.
Was this a country? Or just a luck-based trash game scraping by on prayers?
[Well... looking into it, all that peace turned poisonous. Nearly 200 years of golden age led to demobilization over time, and the orders devolved into honorary positions...]
"......"
[......As a princess, I have no face to show.]
Yeah, what would she know? Just bad luck with her ancestors and parents.
Human nature doesn't change. Over 200 years without war, it's no wonder holding wine glasses felt more natural than sword hilts.
Even right after the peace ended, the empire's reputation probably held things together somewhat. Even rotten fish has its shine—past glory as a shield.
But that shield's tattered now, and starting with the elves, the subraces we'd crushed by force are testing the waters, pushing until it's come to this.
'My mistake, huh.'
Bitter regret washed over me.
Back then, maybe I should've spared a demon legion commander or two, contracted them to periodically poke the borders and keep tension high.
You need some virus for immunity; raise a nation in a sterile room with no germs, and its whole immune system crumbles.
But spilled water can't be gathered. First, fix the current mess. I stroked my chin, pondered, and reached a decision.
Come to think of it, this wasn't half bad.
"Perfect. The trash sorted itself out for recycling."
Better this way. They were dead weight anyway, just eating rations and getting in the way. Saved me the bloodshed—maybe I should thank them.
"So, only the remnants are left in the knight orders now?"
[Yes. Mostly commoner soldiers with nowhere to go, and low-ranking knights with skill but weak families who couldn't promote. They... don't have the money to flee to their estates.]
"Fire all the runaways wholesale. Expel them so they never set foot near a knight order again."
[Ah, already handled that.]
Strength entered Elicia's voice.
[Issued expulsion notices and warned their families of wartime desertion charges. Slapped them with hefty fines too.]
"Good. At least you're turning normal."
Seemed she'd properly learned Alexander's school of hard management.
"So, no real talent left right now?"
[Exactly. No one with actual combat experience at the moment.]
"Fine. I'll fetch some."
[Pardon? But the skilled ones have scattered everywhere—finding them again is like plucking stars from the sky.]
"That's why I'm off to pluck stars. There's one place swarming with them: the empire's future, the shining stars of the empire."
The elite training ground tasked with the empire's tomorrow. A mine crawling with unpolished gems untouched by the world.
"The Academy."
[Ah... the Imperial Academy? But it's just full of students...]
"Students are perfect. Brains still soft, prime for brainwashing—er, education. Way faster to grab blank slates and paint them my way."
[You almost said brainwashing just now, didn't you?]
"Your imagination."
Plus, it was the Imperial Academy, no less. Bound to have some usable talents.
"When does the final semester end there?"
[Let me see... checking the academic calendar, about two months from now.]
"Timing works. Seniors should be field-ready right away. Empire's top elite hub—gotta have at least one gem."
I pulled a cigar from my pocket and lit it. Calculations raced through my head.
Anyway, I had to pick up Erendel's disciple, that Yuria girl. She'd helm the Magic Tower down the line.
Two birds, one stone—scout talent, beat real combat into the seniors till some standouts emerge. Four or five keepers for sure.
Harvest season.
"Elicia, contact the Academy Dean. Tell him the palace is sending two special inspectors."
[Special inspectors? Should I say you, Sir Kasian, and Lady Erendel are coming personally? The dean would line up the whole school for a welcome ceremony...]
"No. That's the problem. Don't reveal our names. Mine or Erendel's."
[Uh... why hide your identities? Mention your names, and the dean would sprint out barefoot.]
"Exactly why we're hiding. If they know who I am, they'll all tremble and put on a show. I don't want fake theater."
I continued flatly into the orb.
"Strip the ranks, the reputations— that's when true skill shows."
[Ah...]
"Then we'll see where to cut—or if we should just burn it down and rebuild."
[As expected... you always have a plan, Sir Kasian. Understood. I'll notify them of a visit from palace-direct special inspectors. Identities strictly confidential.]
"Good. Thanks."
Call ended.
Of course, even then, we won't see raw reality. Palace inspectors scream "agenda."
But way better than war hero and legendary mage arriving.
Let's see how the empire's "future" is growing.
I switched frequencies and called Erendel.
[You idiots!! Are your brains just decorations?! Why the hell is the mana array twisted like a pretzel! Are your brain folds twisted too?!]
The connection hit with Erendel's savage roar blasting my eardrums. Background screams from mages and explosions meant Magic Tower training was going swimmingly.
"Hey, granny."
[What! I'm dying here! Reforming these blockheads has my blood pressure exploding!]
Erendel snapped back with irritation.
[These morons can't even make a proper fireball—it's like fireworks! Hang up! Every second counts!]
"Got a trip. Pack up."
[No. Can't. Absolutely not.]
She shot it down flat.
[Gotta drill basics into these fools by tonight. Plus basement inventory, and cost estimates for the magic tool lines you ordered! Even if the emperor begs, no dice!]
"To the Academy."
[Academy schmademy—no way. That's a den of even rottener fossils. No. Hanging up.]
"To meet your disciple?"
[What do I need to pack?]
"......"
Her tone flipped 180 degrees. Gone was the rage; now it bubbled with grandma excitement heading to see her grandkid.
"Weren't you swamped just now?"
[Shut it. Remote puppets can watch them. Where do we meet?]
"Front gate. I'll have the carriage ready."
[Got it. Gimme a sec.]
Click.
Line dead. I chuckled dryly and pocketed the orb.
Disciple love like that. Whoever put up with her temper... Yuria must be one tough cookie.
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The central garden of the Imperial Academy.
This place usually hummed with noble kids' laughter and teatime peace, but today it buzzed like a kicked hive.
"Hey, hear that? Inspectors from the palace are coming!"
"Inspectors? Just routine inspection, right? They come every year."
"Nah! Special inspectors this time. Profs are in full panic mode!"
Gaggles of students buzzed with words like "inspectors," "restructuring," "purge"—lethal stuff.
And amid the chaos, one girl sat on a corner bench, watching impassively.
She closed her book and furrowed her brow.
'Palace special inspectors...?'
Her eyes flickered with doubt.
'That's... not in the scenario...?'
An unknown variable was approaching the Academy.