Chapter 3: Deneb (2)
“Starting today, you are students of Imperial Herden Witagium, a proud institution with two hundred years of history…”
The middle-aged woman at the podium wore a military uniform heavy with medals, her hair swept into a flawless bun. She radiated such authority that no one would have dared make a joke in her presence.
“As guardians not only of the Empire but of all humanity,” she continued, “I sincerely hope that every one of you will grow into someone capable of bearing that responsibility and fulfilling that mission, with no one left behind.”
After delivering her short but powerful address, Marianne Tilschwitz surveyed the three hundred young students, their faces taut with nerves. She had said she hoped no one would be left behind.
In reality, while most students in the academic division completed the eight-year program, many of the martial arts division’s one hundred and fifty students would never graduate.
“Headmistress Tilschwitz,” a voice echoed in her memory, “if the number of graduates keeps falling every year, the government funding allocated to Witagium will be reduced. You failed nearly half the students this year alone…”
“Are you suggesting I graduate students who cannot even protect themselves, only to send them into battle to die?”
“N-No, of course not. There is no need to take it that far. I only meant that you should somehow train them more effectively…”
More effectively? How could anyone train them more effectively than they were already being trained? Marianne had been doing her best to remain polite, but her eyes sharpened.
Her contemptuous gaze dropped to the finance minister’s well-fed belly, wobbling with every breath. The minister flinched under the unspoken abuse in her stare and quickly looked away.
He had been born into a wealthy, prestigious family and spent his life in luxury without ever lifting a finger. What could he possibly know about the brutal training her students endured for eight years?
He had never even seen a monster, yet he spoke as if fighting one were child’s play. Even now, countless witians were risking their lives in battle to protect people like him.
“Training cannot manufacture talent, I’m afraid,” Marianne retorted. “I understand your grandson turns thirteen next year. If you can efficiently train him well enough to pass Witagium’s entrance exam, I will see what I can do about raising the graduation rate.”
The finance minister’s round, pasty face flushed crimson. Struck precisely where it hurt, he finally fell silent, his expression sour.
It was common knowledge throughout the empire that the finance minister had spent two generations trying to produce a Witagium graduate from his family for the sake of his political career. Yet not one of his children or grandchildren had managed to pass the entrance exam.
Generation after generation, his family had shown no talent for martial arts. A blood test had unfortunately revealed that his bright eldest granddaughter, whom he had hoped might at least enter the academic division, was not a witian.
Of the handful of witians they had found even after searching every branch of the family, none had passed the seven-to-one competition for admission to the imperial military academy.
Witagium graduates were required to serve at least five years in the monster subjugation force under the emperor’s direct command. Completing that term alone brought enough wealth and prestige to secure a comfortable life.
Those who remained in military service afterward received generous salaries, tax exemptions, and numerous other privileges. Even so, no reward could ever be considered excessive when one’s life was the price.
Battle against monsters bore little resemblance to human warfare. Marianne had stood at the heart of such battles herself. She would never throw unqualified students into that horror merely to preserve her own position.
Anyone sent into battle against monsters needed the skill and nerve to defeat at least a mid-grade monster alone. Any graduate of Witagium’s martial arts division could easily subdue a low-grade monster like a Tamacula barehanded. Yet poison was far from the only danger monsters posed.
A Piniros, for example, was roughly the size of a condor. Despite its beautiful appearance, it was vicious enough to tear a person apart with its talons. A Piniros was also the reason Marianne, who had once intended to remain a soldier for life, had been forced to retire.
How many of these children would graduate? And how many would survive? Marianne’s heart grew heavy as she looked over the freshmen, who were still so plainly children.
Someone had to do this work, and she believed it was both her duty and her fate. But no amount of repetition could make it easier to see students she had personally taught return home as corpses.
Still, this year’s class was stronger than usual. Several students had shown real promise.
There was Luina Stello, who had stunned everyone with an unorthodox style of swordsmanship no one had ever seen before. Her reflexes and speed were extraordinary, though her technique had no formal foundation. If she were trained correctly from the basics, she might one day become a swordswoman three or four times as capable as Marianne herself had been.
“Stello? I have never heard that name before.”
“Well… she is from the Libentia Orphanage.”
If Luina had been the daughter of even some minor noble from a tiny border estate, her future would already have been assured. It seemed a terrible waste that she had no family or connections behind her at all. Still, anyone skilled enough to enter the martial arts division at the top of her class would at least be capable of protecting herself wherever she went.
Her face made her look at least three or four years younger than her peers, which might invite contempt in the military. Hopefully, she would look a little older by graduation. Better yet, she might also learn enough political acumen to stand up to the imperial bureaucrats.
Still, anyone bold enough to begin speaking informally with a prince almost at once clearly had nerve. Marianne studied the girl, who looked young enough to pass for ten, then sighed softly and turned away.
The handsome boy with vivid blond hair standing beside Luina smiled at once, his eyes curving into cheerful crescents. The smile itself looked open and guileless, yet any freshman who could meet the headmistress’s eyes and smile without a trace of intimidation was no ordinary child.
Then again, Rowen was the sort of boy who could grin after being soundly defeated by a girl half his size in front of everyone. The memory of sword instructor Arthur’s normally forbidding face turning white still amused Marianne, though not enough for it to show.
“What are we supposed to do, Headmistress?”
“What do you mean? The results are final.”
“But her opponent was a prince… What if the imperial family pressures us?”
“They won’t. I went to the palace last week and gave them a piece of my mind.”
“Again? I keep telling you to control your temper, even when you’re displeased.”
She had only been blustering to reassure Arthur, who was surprisingly timid beneath his intimidating exterior. Even without her visit, however, the imperial family would not have interfered.
The neglected fifth prince stood far removed from the line of succession. He was unlikely to have been assigned a first-rate instructor, which meant his skill was largely innate.
But despite his overwhelming physical advantage, Rowen had hesitated at the decisive moment. That hesitation had cost him the top position.
If Rowen had occupied a position where he was free to excel—if he had been the crown prince, expected to surpass everyone around him—he might have taken first place. Unlike Luina, who had barely scored above average, Rowen had also performed exceptionally well on the written exams.
A gifted all-rounder who is not the empress’s son… Marianne sighed inwardly.
She could only hope he would avoid getting dragged into a pointless struggle for power, though it was already too late for Rowen to make himself seem harmless through incompetence. His only path to survival was to establish an unassailable position within the military. He must have known that, which was likely why he had come to Witagium.
Marianne’s gaze, now slightly troubled, settled on a tall, black-haired boy standing at the far end of the lined-up new students. Even Marianne, who had no interest whatsoever in anyone’s looks—least of all a boy’s—had to admit he was remarkably handsome. Though his expression was languid, there was something in his eyes that made others instinctively shrink back.
The boy was Ferken Alios, the only heir to House Alios. The first time Marianne saw him wield a wooden sword, she had been certain he would take first place. Then he had inexplicably dropped his weapon midway through a match and been eliminated.
Had he deliberately lost to the prince? Whatever his reason, his complete lack of regret after dropping his sword in an official match had made a lasting impression, especially for a thirteen-year-old boy who would’ve had complete faith in his own skill and was at the most competitive age of his life.
Talented though they were, this year’s freshmen would not be easy to manage. Marianne rubbed her brow at the sudden premonition of countless headaches to come. Unfortunately, her instincts were even sharper than she realized.
* * *
“Can you believe they said they wouldn’t let me study just because I’m a girl? In this day and age?” Sharon exclaimed, her voice animated.
“So I stuffed a few changes of underwear into a bag, stole two of my mother’s jeweled rings, and ran away from home. Once I became a Witagium student, even my parents wouldn’t be able to drag me back.
“I read the Monster Encyclopedia for the first time in the carriage on the way here. I ran out of time, so I only skimmed the names in the last two chapters.”
She added casually, “Luckily, I didn’t have to spend time studying biology or geometry.”
“That’s incredible,” Luina said, genuinely impressed. “I barely passed geometry.”
Luina listened in admiration as her new roommate recounted how her hunger for learning had driven her to run away from home. Sharon was a charming girl with soft brown curls and round glasses, and she had placed first in the academic division with perfect scores in every subject.
Applicants to the academic division at Witagium took fourteen exams. The monster-related subjects included questions nearly impossible to answer without memorizing most of the Monster Encyclopedia. Yet Sharon had read the book, more than two hundred pages long, only once on the way to the exam.
Martial arts applicants also had to pass six written exams to qualify for admission to Witagium. Luina had spent nearly two years drastically reducing her sleep to prepare.
Sacrificing her own sleep had been bearable. What burdened her was forcing the already overworked director to share the burden of her studies.
“Please go to bed, Director Dominic. I’ll study on my own and ask you tomorrow if I get stuck.”
“That would be far too inefficient. You don’t have enough time. Noble children begin learning material like this at five or six.”
Of all the subjects Luina had struggled with because of her limited education, geometry had tormented her the most—the very subject Sharon had aced without studying.
Why would I ever need to calculate how much water fit inside a cylinder? Luina wondered. It made far more sense to bring plenty of water, pour until the container was full, and stop.
And what was the point of calculating the shortest route? Calculating the distance did not make the journey any shorter, and no formula could realistically account for every obstacle or danger along the way.
“What are you talking about?” Sharon argued. “Being the top swordsmanship student is much more impressive. My brothers made me swear never to run. Once I go more than twenty steps, I always trip, even when there’s nothing there.”
“But if there’s nothing there, why do you… fall?” Luina asked hesitantly.
Luina and Sharon stared at each other in silence.
Without saying a word, they agreed to accept each other exactly as they were and changed the subject.
