Chapter 234
Chapter 234
Blue Light had received his name about seven years ago.
That was when he'd become the head of Blue Moon.
Before that, he'd been Blue 3772.
A name given roughly twenty-five years prior.
It meant he'd been the 3,772nd person taken in by Blue Moon.
Before that, he'd had a name given to him in Aislard.
Samuel.
He'd discarded his surname himself when he was sold to Blue Moon.
If his family was going to abandon him, he figured he should abandon them in return.
He'd been seven at the time.
Perhaps that was why, after nearly thirty years, his surname was completely lost to him.
The fact that he'd recalled the name Samuel at all was itself remarkable.
For all he knew, his name might not have been Samuel.
It didn't matter.
What mattered was simply that he was no longer Blue Light or Blue 3772.
"Being a teacher was never in my future. Even during undercover assignments, I was never asked to do this."
"You'll be fine."
I meant it.
Blue Light delivered the information he possessed logically and clearly.
When context was needed for a given piece of intelligence, he provided that cleanly too.
If we were truly going to become a large-scale union on the level of an empire, we'd need people like him.
"I'm not asking you to teach the Empire's intelligence division's dirty underbelly."
"You want to raise the kids safe and clean?"
"No. Rather, I want them to have a solid center so that when they do encounter the ugly parts, they won't be easily tainted."
"......That's a tall order."
We would soon be admitting outsiders under the banner of an "Academic Exchange Conference."
Without students and faculty to vet them, verifying newcomers would be difficult.
"In the meantime, please recover your health and get properly acclimated to the Academy."
"Understood."
Samuel nodded, and I turned to Gwen.
"Then I'll be heading out."
"All right. I'll stay and hold a meeting with Samuel on matters of state."
"Please."
I left the Chairman's office, leaving Gwen and Samuel behind.
After that, time passed quickly without major incident.
Equipment arrived rapidly, and the students' abilities climbed at a brisk pace.
Bridget's Sword Expert level matured fully, and Hati seemed to have found the beginning of the path to Master.
The Spear God's temperament had soured even further, which suggested he'd realized something.
Duke Crownhardt had entered seclusion—he, too, appeared to have grasped something.
"There are so many Sword Masters now. With this kind of firepower, you don't need all two thousand students—can't you just go with the Special Class, Teacher?"
"We can't confuse who the enemy is. We're not going to fight Aislard—we're going to deal with Aislard's demons and monsters."
A Sword Master was undeniably a nation-level strategic asset.
But a Sword Master was still just one person.
To traverse a vast continent and save diverse groups of people, large numbers were needed.
"At least it's summer break. It'll be the hottest part of the year."
"The snow will have melted, but that makes it more dangerous—you know that, right?"
Aislard's continent was a mix of earth and ice.
In the height of summer, Aislard was a landscape of treacherous, soft ground that could give way at any moment.
A wrong step could plunge someone into the earth and kill them.
"Heightened senses should help, but...... be careful. Once the fighting starts, there's no telling what could happen."
"Understood."
The students' abilities grew steadily.
Whenever I had time, I'd call in the instructors—ostensibly to learn pedagogy—and quietly tune up their swordwork and stances.
It had been a while since I'd engaged in academic exchange on topics other than swordsmanship.
The conversations were enjoyable, and time flew.
And at last.
"We depart."
About two weeks before summer break.
Our expedition began.
***
"The Akarind Academy contingent has departed as expected."
"Hmm......"
The King of Triban sank into thought.
"Have you still not reached a consensus?"
"We beg your forgiveness."
His nobles were no better.
Arrayed along both sides of the corridor leading to the throne, every noble averted their gaze from the king's.
The Knight Commander, the Finance Minister, the State Minister.
Regardless of rank or office, no one had an answer.
"Damn...... what kind of situation is this."
The relationship between the Triban royal house and Akarind Academy was deeply complicated.
It all began with the youngest prince, Dwayne Traivan.
The Triban royal family had worshipped martial strength for generations.
Only the most outstanding knight of royal blood could become king; the rest were culled.
The lion's share of taxes went to national defense, with the focus on producing elite knights.
For a single reason.
To stand against the Empire.
— The Empire could swallow us at any moment!
In truth, this fear was shared to varying degrees by every kingdom beyond the Empire's borders.
The Triban house's fear was simply a great deal larger.
Dwayne had despised that fear.
The philosophy he'd learned at Akarind Academy had hardened his convictions.
'The very act of fixating on the Empire and arming ourselves against it is what gives the Empire its power.'
The way to escape the Empire was to stop caring about it.
That kind of argument was never going to fly.
'The sort of armchair nonsense only philosophy students would spout!'
'Disarm? And after we're conquered, you'll say the fear is gone?'
'Imbecile! You are a disgrace to the royal house!'
The prince couldn't understand.
Why must he spend his entire life fearing an Imperial power he'd never experienced?
Why must the kingdom's citizens be exploited from birth under the pretext of serving the nation?
What meaning did a kingdom exist for if its sole purpose was to grow its military and knight orders?
So he'd staged a rebellion, and failed.
The place he'd fled to was Akarind Academy.
"Among the incoming personnel......"
"Yes. The traitor Dwayne is among them."
Akarind Academy had been a peculiar place.
Situated in the harshest terrain within the Belmein Kingdom, surrounded by large-type and flying monster swarms.
It housed a 4th-circle mage—kingdom-level—and a number of decent swordsmen.
A determined assault could have razed it, but the consequences would have been unmanageable.
The former Chairman had been a problem too.
Akarind Academy had deep history and tradition; attacking it risked backlash from around the world.
So Triban had maintained a surveillance posture.
The rebel prince couldn't do anything meaningful anyway.
The moment he stepped outside the Academy, he'd be assassinated without anyone knowing.
Think of it as a form of de facto exile or imprisonment.
It required little of their own manpower or funding.
Things had been proceeding safely.
"Damn. What in the world is that Academy......"
And now that prince was marching north at the head of a formidable military force.
Two thousand Akarind Academy students.
Not mere students—a formation that was essentially an army.
No, there were actual soldiers included.
Knights and soldiers formerly of the Duchy of Crownhardt, reputed as the most fearsome force on the Empire's border.
A force of two thousand including them.
And on top of that, they were crawling with users of that bizarre power everyone was talking about—Aura.
"What are our odds?"
"......The knight order stands ready at full alert."
The Knight Commander couldn't give a straight answer and deflected.
Everyone knew.
If they fought, they'd lose.
An overwhelming defeat.
"What are we supposed to do......"
Depalmer—Dwayne's eldest brother and the current king leading the Kingdom of Triban—let out a sigh.
That was when.
"Your Majesty. An envoy has arrived."
A chamberlain approached with the news.
"From Akarind Academy. They request passage authorization."
"Show them in."
Passage authorization.
He barely had time to scoff at the audacious phrasing.
Seeing the people who entered as "envoys" only made his blood boil higher.
"It's been a while."
There were two envoys.
One appeared to be in his mid-twenties.
Beneath golden curls that screamed royalty, a pair of gold eyes shone—gentle yet strong.
His frame was slender but clearly well-trained, his posture impeccable.
Even from the way he stood, one could tell he had considerable skill with a sword.
But no one in this throne room noticed such details.
Of course not.
"Dwayne...... what gives you the nerve to come here."
Because the envoy was none other than Dwayne Traivan.
Dwayne himself seemed uncomfortable being here, his gaze flickering cautiously.
These were people who wanted him dead.
Just a year or two ago, he'd lived like a dead man, making sure not even his shadow caught their attention.
"I didn't want to come either. But I was told that my coming would itself be the message."
"By whom?"
"My teacher."
"......You mean the instructor, Cassian?"
"My teacher is rather well-known."
At Dwayne's words, every member of the royal court let out a groan.
Cassian—the originator of Aura, the slayer of demons not only of the Triban house but the Kingdom of Namress, a mass of destruction.
The man who'd stolen the Holy Sword from the Holy Kingdom and lived to tell the tale, all while consorting with the world's mightiest.
And such a man had personally sent Dwayne as an envoy?
That was a threat in itself.
"We will do nothing and simply pass through to Aislard."
If you don't interfere.
An unspoken addendum that seemed to hang in the air.
"And we'll bring people out of Aislard on our way back."
"That place should be in ruins."
"We might bring back people. Or we might not."
Instead of people, they might bring back demons or monsters.
That was the implication.
"You're not planning to use that force against us, are you? Surely, you...... you don't hate us?"
Depalmer had carefully avoided words like "despise" or "kill," forcing out the mildest phrasing he could manage.
Dwayne smiled bitterly.
"I know I was young and foolish. I failed, and I don't wish to be greedy again."
He meant it.
He'd spent the early days at the Academy dodging Cassian's training, wanting nothing more than to live out a quiet imprisonment forever.
With the Empire's blade dulling and crumbling on its own, the Triban royal house would find its own path to survival.
"So I'd appreciate it if you'd simply open the road."
Then—CLANG—a knight drew his sword.
A newly commissioned royal knight.
"Insolence! A mere traitor—do you know where you stand, running your mouth like that?!"
The nobles moved to reprimand the knight, then paused.
They were curious to see just how strong the prince had become.
But no fight occurred.
A translucent blue barrier materialized between them and Dwayne.
"We'll be leaving now."
"Who are you?"
"Yuria."
"Yuria—as in...... the Holy Kingdom's Saintess candidate?!"
Whatever happened, just bring him back alive.
Yuria had accompanied Dwayne under those instructions from Cassian.
Beyond the transparent barrier.
Dwayne turned away from the assembly.
"Leave us alone and we'll leave you alone. But if you touch us, we'll create a justification. That is what I was told to convey."