Though they had met by chance(?), Ihan wasn't so uncouth as to disregard the woman who had gathered the courage to approach him.
"Sure, even meeting by chance is a kind of fate, so let's walk around together, Chick Number 2."
"Can't you just call me by my name?"
"...What was your name again?"
"?!"
"I'm joking, Cadet Irene."
"F-for a moment, it sounded like you seriously forgot, so it didn't feel like a joke."
"I'm not that much of a trash."
"Hehe, I was joking too."
"Got me there."
Though awkward at first, the knight and the girl's conversation flowed without end.
They were next-door neighbors to begin with.
Seeing each other's faces so often, it would be strange for them to feel unfamiliar with one another.
But if there was any hint of awkwardness between them—
"It does feel a bit strange having a conversation like this at the Academy."
"Even if we're neighbors outside, here we're in an instructor and cadet relationship."
"Yes, definitely."
It was likely the tension that came from being instructor and cadet.
Irene Windler nodded in agreement with Ihan's words, but she felt that today, at least, she didn't need to worry about their mentor-student relationship.
After all, it was the exam period.
All departments had paused their education, and it was a time when instructors, lecturers, and professors alike did not interfere with the cadets.
...And so this was also why Irene had gathered the courage to approach him first.
'Hmm, b-but it won't look like a man and woman together, right?'
A romance beginner was especially conscious of others' eyes.
Worried they might look like a fresh couple.
And if it truly appeared as she thought—
'I-It would be a little embarrassing.'
Irene Windler's cheeks changed to a red color as if dyed with henna.
...However, unfortunately for her.
"Oh, it's Lady Irene. Who's next to her? A guard knight?"
"More like a mercenary, right? Well, this is Galahad, so of course she'd have a guard attached."
"Huh? Isn't that the Swordsmanship Department instructor?"
"Ah! Right, did the Galahad family request a guard from him?"
"Maybe so."
To others' eyes, they didn't look like a couple at all.
How should one put this—
"Wow, seeing the two of them together like that, it's kinda..."
"The art style is different, right?"
"Exactly..."
One side looked like a romance manga, and the other gave off a strong end-of-the-century vibe...
The cadets sent peculiar glances, thinking there couldn't be a more mismatched combination.
* * *
Originally, Ihan didn't need to come to the Academy today.
During the two-week evaluation period, most faculty members rested at home or handled remaining work.
So rather than a rest period, it was closer to a preparation period, and faculty members should normally be somewhat busy as well.
- W-why am I doing this!
But in Ihan's case, a screaming assistant was organizing everything for him, so he had an overflowing abundance of free time.
He simply thought once again that he was lucky to have saved a slave—no, an assistant.
And so, while devoting himself to training during this precious rest period, Ihan was wandering around the Academy because he was curious about how his disciples would fare.
'A sense of duty? Or is this also affection born of familiarity?'
Whatever it was, after spending three months with them, affection was bound to develop, and it was simply human nature to want to see what kind of performance the Swordsmanship Department members would deliver.
Irene agreed with this, and the first place they headed to was—
Smack!
Smaaack!
"That Number 7 chick is doing quite well."
"Lady Rose's motor skills are amazing, aren't they?"
The tennis court, which was like a battlefield of flowers.
There, the chicks were showing their prowess.
"It's completely a flower garden."
"My nose hurts from the perfume smell."
"...I feel like the things the man and woman should be saying are swapped?"
"What is?"
"......Am I the weird one?"
Perhaps because most noble ladies chose tennis as their sports subject, the female ratio was overwhelmingly high.
And the ones performing exceptionally well in the examination venue were the chicks of the Swordsmanship Department.
Smack!!
"I-I won!"
"Woooah!"
"Huh? It's the instructor?!"
"Instructor, I won—!"
Perhaps because they had been trained by Ihan and even attended special lectures.
The girls displayed overwhelming athletic ability and seized victory, seemingly leaving a good impression on the evaluators as well.
'As expected of my members—no, my chicks.'
Was it about time for the yellow fuzz to start falling off?
'Hmm, but here I could call them fighting chicks, right?'
Ihan knew that noble ladies were the type who didn't even walk for exercise, yet starved themselves to lose weight, and then bragged about their skinny frames as successful dieting.
On top of that, they religiously ate cake, black tea, and snacks every day under the excuse of having tea time.
Yet they claimed to manage their bodies through horseback riding and starving...
'No wonder their bodies are ruined.'
So those ladies who were frustrated at losing to the chicks shouldn't be feeling frustrated right now.
Before feeling frustrated, there was something more urgent.
'Nutritional imbalance and extreme lack of exercise...'
They might not realize it while young, but once they got older, they'd probably spend their lives constantly ailing.
'Compared to them, our chicks are phoenixes.'
Unlike the scrawny patients, the chicks overflowing with healthy vigor were swinging their arms vigorously with smiles.
When they first met, they were no different from the aforementioned patients, but now he felt they had grown significantly.
"You rascals, making a man moved."
"...What exactly are you moved by?"
"Perhaps the joy of seeing a patient stand up healthy? Something like that exists."
"??"
...It was a sentiment that Irene Windler couldn't help but find still somewhat distant to understand.
* * *
Even after that, Ihan and Irene Windler observed various things.
"Kunta goes!"
"R-run away! Don't collide!"
"Aaaagh!"
A barbarian charging across the football field like a bull and constantly sending cadets flying.
"If you don't want to get hurt, get out of the way!"
"What the hell is that ridiculous horseback acrobatics?!"
"He's just a mercenary...! Cough!"
The disciple of the Mercenary King who became the ruler of polo, displaying insane horsemanship that made one suspect he wasn't a mercenary but someone from the steppes.
"You hit it over!"
"Crazy bastard!"
"As expected of the Sword Duke's heir!"
"...I don't understand what hitting a ball well has to do with being the Sword Duke's heir."
The descendant of the Sword Duke who became the hero of cricket by hitting a walk-off home run when the scores were dead even.
Beyond them, all members of the Swordsmanship Department produced excellent results.
Truly overwhelming.
As the one who taught them, his shoulders naturally puffed up with pride.
Was this the joy of showing off a carefully cultivated bonsai to others?
Unlike Ihan, who was enjoying his inner satisfaction, Irene Windler expressed a question.
"Hmm, those are the 2nd and 3rd year seniors, right?"
"That's right."
Naturally, among those taking this exam were 2nd and 3rd years who had been absent from the Swordsmanship Department classes.
Both Ihan and Irene were seeing plenty of unfamiliar faces, and Irene frowned at them.
"Those people, you said they were the ones who skipped your classes and received private lessons from tutors, right?"
"I did."
"...Then why are they so weak?"
"Huh?"
"No, they're just too weak. Compared to their peers, they seem far lacking. Even the bear kids could beat them."
"......"
"W-why are you looking at me like that?"
"Just thought you were cute."
"Yees!?"
"Hmm."
Unknowing that he had made the girl's heart skip a beat, Ihan gave her a new gaze.
Was it because she was a mage, or because she had abandoned her original occupation and practically lived in the Swordsmanship Department?
The mage girl had developed quite an eye for observing the gap between warriors.
Or perhaps.
'Is bloodline really that overpowered?'
It might be a talent that existed from the start.
'With a father who's a Duke sweeping through enemies with that Demon Sword, even if she was raised as a warrior instead of a mage, she'd probably be quite good.'
Ihan valued effort, but he clicked his tongue at the fact that in such a world, bloodlines couldn't be ignored either.
Thus, Irene's eyes were as accurate as Ihan's admiration suggested.
Just as she said, the 2nd and 3rd years were being overwhelmed by the 1st years, and even at a glance, the difference in skill level was considerable.
'In game terms, a newbie level that hasn't even finished their 1st job advancement?'
Compared to them, considering that the 1st years were on the verge of their 2nd or even 3rd job advancement, it was an absurd gap.
'...They say the level of new knights drops every year, was this the reason?'
Seeing them reminded him of the new recruits who, except for that bold junior knight who had challenged him before coming to the Academy, had felt like frightened sheep with no trace of ambition.
Those sheep and these people were the same.
'Their physical stats haven't even properly developed. On top of that, they're awkward at projecting killing intent and presence. At best, they've probably accumulated experience from beast hunting.'
And even that felt like they'd only hunted rabbits or foxes.
The presence emanating from their bodies was that mild.
'The basics, they don't have them.'
To say it again, he had never half-assed his work as an instructor.
He had approached everyone sincerely and trained them.
And the one thing he had emphasized more than anything else was none other than the 'basics.'
To hammer these basics into their bodies and minds, he had drilled it into them like a mental restructuring.
Perhaps thanks to those results.
Even though the 1st years had been taught by him for less than 3 months, if they were to fight their past selves from 3 months ago, they would win overwhelmingly.
And conversely, those who had learned for 2 years longer than the 1st years—
'What a pity.'
Ihan wanted to evaluate the 2nd and 3rd year guys like this.
'Those are hollow bread.'
They were empty inside.
"Are the basics that important?"
"To compare it to a mage, it's like someone who can't even do cat's cradle with psychokinesis calling themselves a mage."
"Wow, that is seriously serious."
Since the example was given in magic, Irene immediately understood.
Being unable to do cat's cradle with psychokinesis, the essence of magic, was like a child holding a hammer.
There was nothing more dangerous than being unable to control one's own power.
"Why is their level so low?"
"The war ruined people in many ways."
"Huh?"
"Things like that happen."
The kids probably didn't know.
That the main players of the Britain War were not the knights of the current generation, but the knights of the previous king's era.
And that all the knights of the previous king's era had retired, and what remained were those who only partied during the war now leading the military.
'The absence of the War God is taking a heavy toll.'
War God.
That is, the former king of Pendragon, a legendary king who ruled the kingdom for 120 years and elevated the kingdom's standing to that of a great power.
One might wonder how the arrogant title of "god" could be given to a person, but looking solely at his achievements, it was indeed beyond human level.
'He was someone who could have built a nation all by himself.'
The specialty of the previous king that even Ihan, who only knew of it through records, admired was none other than the 'talent for selecting talent.'
If he picked someone, they would become a famous general or a great minister—that said it all.
Thus, Pendragon, once filled with talents personally selected by the War God, was feared even by the Empire, and among the talents representing the War God's eyes was a young Baltar Grace, it was said.
But now, 17 years had passed since the king called the War God departed for Avalon.
The figures of the same generation as the Warrior King had already passed away, and the elders who had barely held on were all just waiting for the day they would depart to the previous king's side after their efforts in the last war.
It was time for the young generation to lead the kingdom, but that young generation, well...
'If it seems like a war will break out later, I really need to leave this country.'
Watching those nobles who were supposed to lead this nation, he had a strange conviction that this kingdom had no 'next.'
* * *
"-So that's why it was ruined."
"Huh?"
"......Never mind. It's nothing."
"??"
He, Roan, swallowed his words.
Because it wasn't something to mention to anyone yet.
He simply swallowed it inside.
At that moment.
"Is this what you wanted to show me, you insolent brat?"
"...Seeing once is better than hearing a hundred words, wouldn't you agree?"
"I see, certainly watching it does make my blood boil."
"......"
Roan's guts turned cold with the man exuding a cold presence toward him behind him.
He thought he knew.
That the opponent was one of the pillars supporting the kingdom alongside Pendragon and Lionel.
But even so, he thought he could stand proudly even before the pillar.
He had believed there was no one who could make him feel tension.
However.
'...He's terrifying.'
Roan was terrified of him—Blake Vivian de Galahad.
Was it the man himself that was terrifying, or perhaps—
'Is the blood of the sleeping lion within me fearing him?'
Whatever it was, it was not something to let his guard down over.
"Shall I, my lord?"
"Enough, I didn't come to fight today."
"He's someone who insolently summoned and dismissed my lord. He shouldn't be left alive."
"...It feels like I raised a butcher rather than a knight."
"If you just give the order, I'll become a butcher."
"......Haa."
...Right, that guy was here too.
'Rak de Duron. Galahad's Last Sword.'
This wasn't a story about the present.
A title he would acquire in the distant future.
At the same time, he was the 'Slaughterer' who would make all the kingdom's people tremble in fear.
'No one must have known that such a brutal and horrendous evil star slept within him...'
The only one who had put a leash on that evil star was the Duke who owned the Demon Sword.
And in the kingdom without the Duke, there was no one who could restrain that wicked 'madman.'
'But now it's different. No matter how vicious a hound, if it's obedient to its master, then it's merely a future that hasn't arrived yet.'
And so he intended to take a gamble.
While the Duke was alive and well, and in the present when the kingdom's worst slaughterer was still a 'loyal hound'—
"...Your Highness, I came to make you a proposal."
"You insolent—!"
"Stop."
"......"
"Continue, brat."
"......"
Insolently making a proposal before the Duke was nothing short of a life-risking act.
But the dice had already been rolled, and Roan was without hesitation.
"Duke, no—man who carries the blood of the previous king most thickly. ─Ascend to the throne."
"You bas——!!"
Rak drew his sword, and Roan grabbed Jack as if he had already predicted this.
"I'll hear your answer next time."
Whoosh!
......They vanished in an instant.
An incredible concealment of presence, almost approaching [Mystery], that evaded even a high-ranking knight's senses.
But Rak would have been confident in chasing and killing them even if the opponent was a Mystery Awakener, and the moment he was about to move—
"Stop."
"...My lord?"
"Hmph, rat-like bastards. They were like that before, good only at hiding."
"......"
"...Still."
The corners of Duke Blake's lips gradually curved into a smile.
However.
"-It is true that it's an interesting proposal."
A bone-chillingly cold gaze revealed that his mood was far from pleasant.
It was the 4th day of the exams.