Chapter 3 | The Assassin Arrives at the Royal Knights Academy
One month had passed since that shopping trip to Milteu. Dia, Tarte, and I had finally arrived at the academy…or rather, the town surrounding the academy.
The academy was a two-hour carriage ride north of the royal capital. Apart from being a school, the place also functioned as a stronghold. It safeguarded the capital from any invaders coming south. Nowhere else in the world could you find so many mages in one place. Even students could be called upon to fight.
Concealed within the most massive bulwark in the country rested a modest-sized town.
My two companions and I were headed for the academy located in the middle of that settlement.
“We’re here, my lord. It’s almost time to put all of our studying to the test!” Tarte exclaimed.
“I’m exhausted from all the studying we’ve done this past month. It’s gotten so bad that I’ve even had dreams about Alvanian history,” Dia groaned.
The three of us had been spending the recent weeks preparing for our entrance exam.
The test didn’t determine admission to the school, but rather, what class you were placed in. No noble’s education was exactly the same. All students were divided into groups based on their level of knowledge to ensure efficient instruction. We’d been studying hard to be assigned to Class S, the best of all. I had a particular reason I needed to be placed high.
After passing the time by chatting, we arrived at the Royal Academy at last.
We told reception we were there to take the entrance exam, after which we were guided to an entrance that doubled as a plaza.
“Wow, there are so many people here,” Tarte remarked with wonder.
“There are more adults here than there are students, though,” observed Dia.
“Most of them are likely parents who’ve come to see their children off. I imagine they’re worried about how their kids will do. The test score has a large impact on your family’s worth,” I explained.
“Wow, really? That’s a little sad… Wait, what’s that?!”
I followed Dia’s line of sight and spotted an outrageously dressed individual.
“Didn’t expect to see Prince Charming here at the academy,” I quipped.
“Wha—? Surely that’s overdoing it,” Tarte added.
“That is a little much,” Dia agreed.
Ahead of us was a boy riding a white horse. Perhaps in an attempt to match his steed, the young man was garbed in fancy alabaster clothing embroidered with gold thread. Everything about him was showy.
It did, however, look like he had the mana to back up that ostentatious attitude. He was quite handsome, and he wore his outfit well.
Quite unlike myself, he was flaunting his mana for all the world to see. The emblem on his mount’s bridle made it clear that he was the heir of House Gephis. He was one of the people Dad had told me to look out for at the academy. Not only did his family hold a dukedom, but it also possessed a spot in line for the royal throne.
The flamboyant young man winked as he passed by us. I initially thought it was directed toward Tarte and Dia, as those kinds of advances so often were. After a moment, I realized it had definitely been meant for me.
“What in the world is the heir of House Gephis thinking?” I muttered.
I hardly had any time to ponder the question, however, as an even greater commotion began to attract new onlookers. There was only one person who could cause a bigger stir than the son of a duke.
It’s the hero.
He didn’t introduce himself to anyone, but his overwhelming mana alone betrayed his identity.
It was such an intense amount of mana that you didn’t even need Tuatha Dé eyes to perceive it.
The hero was surprisingly short. It was actually difficult to tell whether he was a boy or not. He looked utterly flustered. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he broke down crying.
He bore absolutely no resemblance to Setanta, the man I’d fought when I’d saved Dia. For some reason, however, this timid kid gave off a similar aura.
People swarmed the poor boy, hoping to curry favor with the hero. I watched the scene from a distance. I also had plans for getting close to the hero, but it was too early to make my move.
If this teary-eyed young man really was the hero, then he’d surely be placed in Class S. That’s why Dia, Tarte, and I had studied so hard for the entrance exam. Being in the same division would afford many opportunities to approach the hero.
Out of the nearly one hundred mages in attendance, only eight were going to make it into Class S. Winning out over all the nobles was not going to be easy. To make things more complicated, I couldn’t use House Tuatha Dé’s special assassination techniques or any of the original magic I had created.
“It’ll be hard…but not impossible.”
I’d gained plenty of knowledge and experience during both my lives. Even without using my unique strengths, Dia, Tarte, and I should’ve been capable enough to accomplish anything the academy threw at us.
When it came time for the test to begin, students filed through the school entrance. A chorus of encouraging cheers echoed at our backs.
Things hadn’t even commenced yet, and there was already such a huge ruckus. The posting of the exam results was liable to be pure pandemonium.
We followed a professor to the testing site, passing through many spacious hallways along the way.
First came the written portion.
“I’m so nervous. I know I’m going to end up in the same class as you, regardless of my grade, but as your retainer, I can’t afford to embarrass you with a bad score.”
Servant students took the test the same as everyone else, but they were always placed with their masters. They also didn’t count toward the number of people in any given class. This was because a servant’s primary purpose for coming to the academy was to support their master.
“You’ll be fine. If you’ve memorized the stuff I’ve taught you in preparation for this exam, you’ll do just fine. Or do you not trust me?” I inquired.
“Of course I trust you! I can do it!”
That honest simplicity was one of Tarte’s best traits.
The instructor arrived punctually to announce the end of our break.
“Greetings, young fledglings who will soon bear the weight of the Alvanian Kingdom on your shoulders. Welcome to the Royal Knights Academy. First, you will take a written assessment, and then, after a one-hour break, you will take a practical evaluation. There are a couple of things you should be aware of before we start. I will take no questions, and leaving your seat is prohibited. If you leave your chair, your answers will be collected. That is all. I will now distribute the test booklet.”
Packets of paper were placed facedown on everyone’s desks.
“You may begin!”
No sooner had the proctor said those words than I flipped my test over and quickly scanned its contents.
The questions were largely what I’d expected. I hadn’t spent the last month studying blindly. I’d used Illig Balor’s information network to look into recent trends for the exam, and I’d shared what I’d learned with Dia and Tarte.
The first section was about Alvanian history and law. I was relieved to see that much of the material was composed of things I’d taught to the girls.
I had to laugh a little to myself at some of the problems. This assessment had clearly been written with a strong bias. Most of it was made up of history and laws the country wanted its nobles to be aware of. You could say it was exactly the sort of thing you’d expect from an academy that aimed to bring its aristocracy together for a common cause.
The next portion consisted of problems that tested cognitive ability and mathematics. I had no doubts that Dia and Tarte could handle that section.
The way things were progressing, I didn’t suspect any of us would have trouble placing among the top scores. Sure enough, Dia and Tarte, who were sitting next to me, were flying through the test, their pencils racing.
As far as I could tell, only about 30 percent of the room was doing well.
Young nobles should’ve had no problem answering questions about their native history and laws, but that wasn’t the case for lower-ranking aristocrats. Their parents typically taught them a version of the past that painted their lineage in a favorable light. They were only instructed on the parts of history their parents wanted them to know.
Even if a young person in such a position possessed a genuine interest in the past, books were expensive, and it was challenging to figure out which tomes contained true historical accounts and which had been modified. Many volumes were filled with complete nonsense.
On this assessment, the environment in which you were raised was even more important than your intelligence. Once again, I felt grateful to have been born a member of House Tuatha Dé.
Doing well on the written portion ensured that I’d be able to get away with holding back during the practical exam. I had to make sure I got high marks.
The first half of the test ended, and our break time began. It had ended up taking three hours, so we were all understandably exhausted. None of it had been broken up by subject, so we’d had to do the entire thing in one go.
One applicant had been fighting the urge to go to the bathroom the whole time. Eventually, they gave in and had to leave their seat, flushed and crying. An even more incredible student peed their pants intentionally so they could continue to take the test. Clearly, they didn’t want to sully the reputation of their family name by leaving the exam for something trivial.
We all staggered outside like weakened zombies.
Dia, Tarte, and I walked into a spacious courtyard and found a bench to rest on.
Dia immediately set to talking excitedly about her performance on the test. “I’m sure I got over ninety percent right. That’s a good score, but I’m nervous about how that will compare to everyone else.”
“I don’t think I did quite as well as that,” Tarte admitted. “It was entirely stuff you taught us, though, my lord, so it was pretty easy for me, too!”
“I’m glad it went well. High marks should put you in the top ten,” I praised.
“I can’t wait for the results. How did you do, Lugh?” Dia inquired.
“Unless the teaching materials I used or the problems themselves were wrong, I got a perfect score,” I stated.
“I’m not surprised. You’re so smart, Lugh,” praised Dia.
“We’ll have to celebrate if you get the top grade! I’ll treat us by making some delicious food!” Tarte declared.
“There’s no need for that. There’ll probably be something happening at the dorm to commemorate the new students entering the school,” I responded.
“Aww, that’s disappointing. I’ll make some great dessert anyway!”
I forced a smile. Tarte was always putting me before herself.
Producing a basket, Tarte said, “A tired brain needs sweets! I got up early this morning to make these snacks.”
“You must have been feeling really confident about the test if you felt you could get up early to make these. I thought you’d be the type to keep studying right up until the last second,” Dia remarked.
“I just wanted to make both of you happy, Lord Lugh and Lady Dia,” Tarte answered.
“I appreciate it. These look exceptional,” I said.
The basket was full of steamed yellow buns. In Milteu, it was becoming a trend to steam bread instead of baking it. This gave the stuff a soft and spongy texture. A fair amount of egg yolk was then added to the bread to provide a rich flavor.
“All right, let’s eat.”
I tore off a piece of the squishy bread and put it in my mouth. A sweet, eggy sort of taste spread across my tongue. It was exactly the sort of thing I needed to relax and recharge my brain.
“Tarte, this is delicious,” I praised.
“Yeah, it really is. You should make more of these sometime,” added Dia.
“I’d be happy to! These did turn out quite good.”
Tarte’s steamed sweets were a kind that neither my mom nor I had ever made before.
When did Tarte start finding recipes on her own? I wondered. It was good to see her gain more confidence.
Dia prepared some tea as thanks for Tarte. She didn’t have any tea utensils, but she created some using earth and fire magic.
In the middle of our intense entrance exam with the dignity of every royal house riding on it, the three of us enjoyed a laid-back respite, eating buns and sipping tea. It wasn’t long, however, before someone arrived to ruin our peaceful moment.
“Hey, it’s the Tuatha Dé family. Would you mind if I joined this tea party?”
A handsome boy with bright blond hair was approaching.
I didn’t want anyone to ruin our precious break time, but this boy belonged to one of the four major dukedoms.
“Not at all,” I replied.
“Thank you. I’m sure you know my name already, but allow me to introduce myself anyway. I am Naoise Gephis.”
“My name is Lugh Tuatha Dé. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“Ha-ha-ha, come now, you don’t need to be so polite. At this academy, strength is everything. That’s what the royal family says. And don’t you think that we, who have sworn our unfailing allegiance to the king, should comply with the word of the crown?”
That’s not something I would’ve expected someone from a duke’s family to say.
“All right, I’ll speak freely,” I agreed.
“Please do. I feel much more at ease that way. Hey, would you mind if I tried one of those treats you’ve got there?” Naoise asked, turning toward Tarte.
“N-no, not at all. But I’m sure they fall short of the sort of sweets a noble of your standing is used to tasting…,” Tarte answered shyly.
Heedless of Tarte’s warning, Naoise grabbed a steamed egg bun and ate it.
“That’s delicious. It has a simple appeal that the confections of my castle lack. I like it. I think I’ll have another.”
He wasn’t acting at all like an aristocrat. However, Naoise cut such an elegant figure that he could do anything, and it’d look as beautiful as a painting.
“What do you want? I imagine you have a purpose beyond eating,” I pressed.
“I just wanted to meet you. I was hoping you’d consider joining me and helping me to achieve my dream. Before my graduation, I want to gather the very best the academy has to offer so that we can achieve great things together. Most especially, I want you, Lugh Tuatha Dé. That’s why I approached you first,” Naoise replied.
…How much does he know?
I hadn’t demonstrated my real strength yet, and there was no way Naoise wanted to talk to a simple baron’s son. Many people at the academy hailed from much more distinguished lineages. I would’ve understood if he knew of my covert profession, but the only ones privy to that secret were the royal family and a certain dukedom.
“Why me?” I questioned.
“Because you’re more skilled than anyone here,” Naoise returned.
“Surely the hero dwarfs me.”
“The hero is strongest in terms of brute strength, and that certainly has its uses, but you are more impressive overall. But we can leave things at a greeting for today. Think it over for me… Let’s change this rotten country together. You, of all people, should understand how necessary that is. If we don’t act soon, it’ll be too late. Those sweets were truly delicious, by the way. Take this as thanks.”
Naoise tossed a handkerchief toward Tarte and walked away. Tarte spent a few seconds sitting there dumbfounded before she looked down at the cloth.
“Wow, this is really nice.”
“It’s made of the very best silk, and the gold thread embroidered into it is top rate, too. Selling this would net you enough money to live on for a year,” I explained.
“I—I can’t take this. I’m going to go give it back to him!” Tarte insisted.
“No, don’t. He would actually see that as rude,” I cautioned.
Tarte didn’t know how to handle aristocratic gestures. She still clung to some of her old low-class habits.
“Hey, Lugh. What do you think he meant by changing this country?” Dia asked.
“…Any noble with a decent understanding of current affairs can see that Alvan is headed in the same direction as your Soigelian Kingdom. Naoise probably knows that. He might be trying to prevent ruination, or he may want to flip the country on its head if he believes it weak enough to suffer the same fate as Soigel. Either way, he seems quite ambitious,” I remarked.
…The Royal Academy was a fitting place to gather personnel. You could approach people without the constraints of the nobility. It was a place unlike any other.
“I’ve never actually met anyone who’s so openly stated that they want to change Alvan,” Dia said.
“I can’t tell if I should be impressed or think he’s an idiot,” I admitted.
When I first saw Naoise riding that white horse, I thought he was just some foolish dandy with overinflated self-esteem, but it turned out he had some fire in him. Perhaps he’d ridden that steed simply to leave a lasting impression.
A trumpet sounded. It wasn’t signaling the end of the break, but rather the posting of our written test results. Dia, Tarte, and I headed toward the gathering crowd.
All right, time to see how we did.
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