Chapter 52
Chapter 52
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 52
Chapter Title: A Meal Interrupted
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Adjusting to life at Venderford wasn't very difficult.
The ten years of grueling training that filled my youth forced me to do everything myself.
But here, there was almost nothing I had to do personally, from meals to laundry.
It was because they provided everything, allowing us to focus solely on our studies.
'I'm looking forward to today's meal, too.'
Two weeks had already passed since I enrolled.
During that time, the Venderford student dining hall had delighted my palate.
As a place teeming with the highest-ranking nobles, the quality of the food was also excellent.
I heard they had even sent down a royal chef for the princes.
Thanks to that, I was able to spend my days as pleasantly as I had during my time as the Young Lord of Riverune.
Today, too, I was on my way to the dining hall to partake in some high-class cuisine.
"This lowly thing. How dare you step on my foot?"
*Smack! Crash!*
An irritated shout was followed by the heavy sound of a blow.
The person who had been unexpectedly accosted was a student who had been looking around for a seat.
Judging by the "lowly thing" comment, it seemed he had run afoul of a noble's son.
'A cliché, but an inevitable phenomenon.'
Cramming royalty, nobles, foreign royals, and commoners into one place was bound to cause discontent.
On top of that, revoking their existing privileges and treating everyone equally?
It was like pouring oil on a burning house; problems were sure to erupt all over the place.
Just like right now.
"Ugh!"
The student, who had been knocked to the ground by the blow, staggered to his feet.
He seemed to be an endowment student, as his clothes were quite high-quality.
Outwardly, he didn't look much different from a noble.
But in the eyes of the true upper class, the gap was visible.
'You can tell just by their demeanor. Anyway, he looks a bit familiar. What was his name?'
It was still early in the semester, so there were many unfamiliar students.
But since he had a place in my memory, he must have had some unique history.
Soon, I was able to recall the boy's identity.
'Was it Frixon from the advanced class?'
Most endowment students were assigned to the basic class.
Their skills were inevitably going to be relatively weaker.
After all, they had been admitted in exchange for their parents' massive donations.
How could they have known Venderford would be established and prepared for it?
Even I, who was in the continent's greatest assassination guild, hadn't known.
In any case, the reason this guy was in my memory was due to his considerable skill.
Frixon, caught by the surprise attack, opened his mouth as if to protest.
But he couldn't say a word.
*Scrape! Scrape!*
That was because the men next to the one who had struck him all rose to their feet.
"What? You got a problem? You commoner cur."
"You should be grateful we even let you breathe. Who gave you permission to open your mouth?"
"A commoner daring to dine with noble blood. How absurd."
Judging by their large builds and considerable presence, they seemed to belong to the advanced class.
But from behind them, a voice full of ridicule could be heard.
"Let him be. Let's see what he does."
"Hehehe! Should we?"
The four men cleared a path, but Frixon couldn't move.
He couldn't think of any way to beat them.
Fighting them recklessly would only get him beaten up.
Frixon, who had squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them, tried to end the situation by ignoring them.
But it seemed they had no intention of letting their ensnared prey go.
*Step! Step!*
"Seeing as you don't even think of protesting after getting hit, you're definitely a commoner."
The owner of the sneering voice was Bizolt Railton.
The very same guy who had caused a disturbance in the stables during the entrance ceremony.
'Reddish-brown curly hair and a wickedly crumpled face. That's him.'
He was exactly the type of person to trip someone on purpose just to start a fight.
If he was willing to throw his weight around with the administration staff, what wouldn't he do?
"What are you looking at? You want to end up like this too?"
When Bizolt threatened them, the students who had been sending pitying glances toward Frixon scattered in an instant.
They didn't know what trouble they might face if they got on the wrong side of that foul-tempered noble.
"I'm just leaving, so don't pick any more fights."
"Oh? And who gave you permission?"
*Stomp!*
Glancing over, I saw Bizolt stomping on Frixon's foot.
But Frixon just clenched his teeth and backed away, showing no intention of attacking.
It made sense; endowment students and recommended scholarship students were all aiming to climb the social ladder.
Either to be scouted by a high noble or to return to their home country with a Venderford diploma and gain recognition.
Because of this, they tried to avoid causing trouble whenever possible.
If a problem were to arise, they, with no backing, would be the only ones at a disadvantage.
'Unless it's an incredibly serious incident, Bizolt won't face any real consequences.'
Blood is thicker than water, as they say.
As long as it wasn't a major incident, they wouldn't be able to expel the heir of the Railton family.
It was obvious that only Frixon would suffer the consequences.
I was in a similar position, so I didn't care what happened over there.
But then, the face of the second prince, who was in the middle of his meal, caught my eye.
'Is he smiling?'
Frantz was watching the ridiculous drama unfolding in the student dining hall and let out a smirk.
He seemed quite amused by the sight of Bizolt, one of his followers, thoroughly stomping on an endowment student.
Of course, it was only for a moment, and he quickly wiped the expression from his face.
Subtly turning my head, I saw that a few students from high noble families had similar attitudes to the second prince.
The reason they were tacitly condoning this bizarre behavior was easy to guess.
'They were stripped of their natural rights. It's understandable they'd be displeased.'
From a high noble's perspective, eating with commoners and receiving the same treatment would be incomprehensible.
Perhaps for that reason, they seemed to feel a subtle sense of satisfaction from Bizolt's power trip.
Of course, I couldn't care less and happily waited for the next course of my meal.
In this respect, I have pretty thick skin myself.
However, it was at the very moment I was about to pick up my appetizer.
*Smack! Splatter.*
"Ah..."
Suddenly, bright red blood splattered onto my plate.
Naturally, my last piece of boruto was now inedible.
I scowled and turned around, but the perpetrators of the outrage didn't seem to care in the slightest that they had ruined my food.
They were just glaring at each other, radiating insane amounts of hostility.
"Hmph! Do you think getting into Venderford opens the path to success for a lowly peasant? Listen up, you pathetic worms. Know your place and stay down."
Bizolt roared at the students.
It was a tirade clearly aimed at the endowment and scholarship students.
*Snap.*
It was then that I felt the thread of my reason snap.
"My precious boruto..."
I shot up from my seat and strode purposefully toward the guy.
Though I approached him openly, my presence was almost nil.
To muffle my footsteps even in a situation like this must be an assassin's instinct.
"Hmm?"
As I got right behind him, one of the lackeys who had been swaggering and creating an intimidating atmosphere suddenly turned his head.
It seemed he had only just now sensed my presence.
But my arm was already swinging wide.
*Thwack—!*
"Heok!"
As the immense impact shot through his temple, Bizolt collapsed onto the floor.
I had struck him with the edge of the plate, so the pain must have been considerable.
But soon, he turned to look at me, his eyes flashing.
Oh, this one's tough?
He'll be fun to beat up.
"Who the hell are you?"
In response to his question, I showed him the blood on my plate and answered.
"The owner of this food."
"What does that have to do with this situation?"
"You splattered blood on it."
"You're hitting me over something so trivial? Are you out of your mind... Wait a minute, I've seen this bastard somewhere before."
Even in his confusion, Bizolt seemed to recognize me.
After all, I was the student who had received the most attention from Professor Hot.
With the princes also watching me, how could he not know?
He looked me up and down and said,
"You seem to be the son of some backwater lord, but you'd be wise not to challenge the authority of Railton. That is, if you don't want to end up like that good-for-nothing from a merchant family."
Bizolt mistook me for the scion of a provincial noble house.
Since a mere endowment student wouldn't dare confront him, it was a natural assumption.
However, he didn't seem to want to fight right away.
It appeared he was trying to avoid an unnecessary clash since the princes were watching with interest.
Even now, Frantz and Ellington were observing the situation over here.
To Bizolt, I was probably just a target to be skillfully coaxed and recruited.
'He wouldn't want to get on the princes' bad side.'
But when has a conflict ever been so easily controlled?
I drove my fist deep into his face and said,
"That good-for-nothing from a merchant family is me, you bastard."
*Crack—!*
"Keoheok!"
After sending Bizolt flying with a single punch, I shrugged and dusted off my hands.
I hadn't stepped in merely to discipline this damn degenerate.
Nor was I particularly angered by the 'merchant family' comment.
Although, ruining my precious boruto was a rather large offense.
Ultimately, the reason I got involved in this fight was because of Frixon.
His father was a merchant in Poben, in the western part of the empire.
And the owner of a very, very large merchant guild at that.
'It's all part of the bigger picture for the future.'
To find the 'Tomb of Swords' that Vice-Guildmaster Zimmerman had mentioned, I needed a reliable ally.
The southernmost part of Reilhasch was a region adjacent to Felton territory.
Finding a survivor from Riverune in such a place would not be easy.
The great merchant guild of Poben would probably be of great help to me.
'Connections must be made in advance to be used effectively later.'
Especially in a dramatic situation like this, what better opportunity to capture someone's heart?
"You, you bastard...!"
But Bizolt, who had been sent flying by my iron fist, shot back up, spewing curses.
He strode up to me and said in a growl,
"Draw your sword. I'll personally teach you just how worthless your talent is."
Ugh, please don't shove that ugly face at me.
I need to cleanse my eyes