Chapter 17 - A Status Window Opened on the First Day of School (1)

In late February, the streets near St. Jansk University were packed with people. Founded by order of the former king, the finest educational institution of the postwar era was finally holding its entrance ceremony. With the entrance exams held back in November, it had been quite a wait.

Prizhenkaya's merchants were busy swindling freshmen and their families who had come from distant foreign lands, while pickpocketing and various other "traditional pastimes" ran rampant. Despite the biting cold of the early-spring morning, the new students could not contain their excitement and happiness as they filed through Jansk University's gates alongside undergraduates who regarded them with pity.

"What's that?"

That was, until someone pointed at the sky and cried out in confusion.

One by one, more people began behaving strangely, pointing skyward. Soon, a long shadow blotted out the dawn glow and fell across Jansk University's campus.

"A ship...?"

"An aerial... battleship...?"

"Holy shit! Isn't that—that's Kallion's national emblem!"

Panic swept through the crowds gathered outside the campus.

"Y-Your Excellency! There's a Kallion warship over Prizhenkaya...!"

"Sir, I have eyes."

A certain silver-haired Palace Minister tore at her hair and ground her teeth.

"... Wasn't Elpihera supposed to come overland through Thilles?"

"Well... Ahaha! Exactly! They even used a concealment veil above the clouds..."

"Yes. The weather has been poor lately. So you couldn't tell whether our honored guest from Kallion was coming by road or crossing our airspace aboard a fully armed warship. Reasonable."

"Come on, sir. How could we possibly plant agents in Kallion? It's..."

It was elven territory... How were they supposed to plant... humans there...? They'd be spotted at once...

As a certain counterintelligence officer broke into a cold sweat, repeatedly muttering, "I'm fucked when I get back to headquarters"—

In an age when peace had become a vulgar joke, a warship was descending from the sky.

It was early spring.

* * *

Hopefully, Elizaveta wouldn't kill any elves.

Ivan walked on, ignoring the people still milling about in confusion. He could probably guess what the elves were thinking.

'Look, it seems to us that the Hero's Party's kids are being singled out for terrorist attacks.'

'Just how shit does your border security have to be for us to resort to this?'

'Elpihera is the jewel of our archipelago, you know? How could we entrust her to you? We'll protect our own children from now on. Keep up the good work. We look forward to your cooperation.'

It was hard to argue with that. Both Isabelle and Esidisi had been caught in train derailments, and their survival was nothing short of a miracle.

Elizaveta had even received advance warning from Ivan. But who would dare provoke Krasilof at a time like this? A nation in turmoil, where the Princess and Crown Prince were locked in a vicious struggle that had kept its military strength almost entirely intact even after the war. What foreign enemy would dare?

Not unless they had a death wish.

Elizaveta must have felt wronged. She surely hadn't expected lunatics like that to actually exist. In any case, this incident would most likely be brushed off as a minor disturbance. The elves of Kallion would hardly commit a diplomatic affront beyond a "show of force."

'She'd be devastated if I told her there would be countless terrorist attacks at the academy from now on.'

The prospect of seeing Iron-blooded Liza cry again was rather tempting, but he decided to refrain. He had no wish to keep insulting his superior.

He didn't particularly want to see Elizaveta in the first place. Their relationship was rather awkward, after all.

'Hmm.'

Elizaveta had written him letters quite often, and Ivan had returned every last one. Chiefly because he didn't want personal conversations with his superior; not wanting to get involved with royalty was a close second.

Had he known she would be commissioned as his superior a few years later, he ought to have been more careful about his conduct. Something to reflect on.

She had been only fourteen when she first wrote to him. How could he have predicted she would become an officer in the Extermination Unit a mere five years later? Besides, he had been serving in the former king's Guards Division back then. If anyone caught him having a private conversation with the Princess, he could have been swept up in a political attack.

He had to avoid giving the impression that the great former king had secretly sent someone to support Elizaveta...

"Huh? Mister?"

"... Hmm?"

As he walked, lost in thought, an abruptly familiar voice reached his ears. Someone promptly ran up and tried to slap him on the shoulder. Ivan twisted aside with ease and reached for his waist. His hand closed on nothing.

Only then did he remember he had left his axe in the director's office.

"What was that killing intent for?! Can't even say hello without fearing for my life!"

"Greetings in Thilles seem to have changed considerably."

"I saw you reach for your waist, you know. Is an axe to the head how you return a greeting in Krasilof? Huh? Is that any way to treat a comrade who's faced death with you?"

It was Isabelle. Unaccompanied by any attendants, she approached him with a broad grin.

"You don't look like you're here as a student. An instructor? A professor? Not in the Knight Department, right? You don't have the look of a knight. Oh, don't tell me. Let me guess."

"I don't remember you being like this."

"You told me to live with a smile, didn't you?"

Isabelle beamed. Her expression was so much like her father's that Ivan found himself smiling back.

"I stiiill don't like Sir August, and I absolutely loathe all those people with their fake little smiles. But, well. Yes, yes. I can just be fake too, can't I?"

"Excellent."

Ivan genuinely thought so. The girl was essentially an undersocialized puppy: the sort that barked at anyone and bared its teeth at the slightest fright.

Having changed her personality in a single night, Ivan judged himself to have more talent as an educator than he had realized. (An assessment Isabelle might have found somewhat bewildering, given that around eighty civilians had been massacred that night and she had fought a demon to the death to save the dozen or so survivors.)

"Anyway! Mister—no, um. With your skills, you'd be a professor, right? Which department? PE. Has to be PE. Not the Knight Department, so, hmm... Does Jansk University have an assassination curriculum?"

"Perhaps consider whether an institution teaching such things has any use in this world."

"It never hurts to learn things! Except magic. That stuff was seriously hard."

"It's rather a problem if the hero can't use magic."

"Ahaha, I told you, I'm in the Knight Department!"

Ivan watched her animated chatter for some time as they walked. While Isabelle happily prattled on, another group approached from the distance.

"My lady!"

"Ugh."

Isabelle's face hardened coldly before she quickly schooled her expression. Clearing her throat, she glanced at Ivan, made an effort to compose herself, and answered brightly.

"Oh, my lord! Fancy seeing you here!"

"As I keep saying, there's no need to be formal, my lady. Please, call me Oscar."

"Yees, another time!"

Oscar.

Ivan's gaze sharpened. An exceptionally handsome blond young man approached him, grinning, surrounded by female students.

Good heavens. The boy really was his father's spitting image.

Ivan marveled. It wasn't just his looks—even that smug expression was identical. The only difference, perhaps, was the crowd around him.

Gilles Vert's romantic history had been remarkably clean. In truth, it hadn't been easy to meet women back then. The only women in the party were the Saint and the thief: Patricia had been a child of barely fifteen, and Enrique a vampire over a hundred years old.

"Well. A pleasure to meet you. I am Oscar de Châtillon of Thilles. And you are?"

"Ivan Petrovich."

"Forgive me, but what is your relationship with my lady...? Ah, my apologies. You may not be aware, but she is an honored guest of our nation. I'm afraid I must be somewhat discourteous."

Anyone who saw an obviously suspicious bearded weirdo walking alongside the hero's daughter would inevitably think along those lines. Ivan would have disagreed with that assessment, but that was how Oscar saw it. This man was suspicious. All the more so considering the terrorist attack on Isabelle's train.

Oscar had departed three days after Isabelle. She had refused to travel with him even if it killed her.

Then news of her accident had reached Thilles.

[Onward! To Prizhenkaya!]

[Tear up the soles of those Krasilof brown bears' paws!]

[A nation that forgets its history has no future! People of Thilles, remember the hero's sacred deeds!]

The streets of Saint Matilene had filled with citizens carrying placards like these. And why shouldn't they? The hero's daughter had gone missing abroad, caught not in an accident but in a terrorist attack.

Fortunately, an urgent dispatch arrived announcing that Isabelle had returned alive and unharmed, and the demonstrators dispersed. But there was no helping the wariness and distrust that had soared sky-high in Thilles.

On top of that, Oscar had received a stern lecture from his father, Lord Protector Gilles Vert.

["Once you enroll, protect Isabelle no matter what. Don't let a single hair on her head be harmed."]

["Even if I die?"]

["However I look at it, her life is more precious than yours."]

["You're really something. Why didn't you just swap me for her? You were friends with the hero, weren't you?"]

["If I could have, I'd have done it twenty years ago, son. Yulia and I wanted a daughter."]

["Wow. That's genuinely staggering."]

Recalling the solemn instructions of the great Lord Protector Gilles Vert, paragon of Thilles's knights, Oscar grimaced before forcing his expression back into order.

"I'm on the staff at Jansk University."

"My deepest apologies. There have been so many unfortunate incidents lately. I ask that you kindly overlook my rudeness."

"Hmm."

"May I ask which department you're in charge of...? I don't recall seeing your name on the faculty list."

At this, Isabelle's ears pricked up. He wasn't a professor?

"I'm a gardener."

"Huh?"

"... Pardon...?"

With those skills, he was a what? A gardener?

Isabelle stared at him in astonishment. Those deep eyes still gave no clue to his thoughts, and his bushy beard concealed every trace of expression.

She really wanted to shave that thing off. The thought came unbidden, and then realization struck.

"... Oho?"

With a peculiar grin, she promptly thumped Ivan in the side. He reflexively reached for his waist, remembered he had no axe, and smoothly lowered his hand.

"You're a government agent, aren't you? Right? Some kind of secret agent? Wow, university life is so exciting. What on earth have they hidden here to plant a government agent on campus?"

After whispering this, Isabelle cleared her throat and composed her expression.

"This stays between us, okay? You can't go telling anyone else."

"If it stays between us, I think you're the one who needs to watch her mouth."

"Come on. I'm the hero's daughter, remember? Solemnity, secrecy, justice."

"Was the hero like that?"

As their whispered conversation dragged on, Oscar's expression grew odd.

"My lady?"

"Ah, yes. My lord. Ahem. 'Mr.' Petrovich? Thank you for showing me around. Wow, this campus is so huge I nearly got lost! Goodbye!"

Did Jansk University's arts department have an acting program? Ivan left, seriously considering recommending acting theory as one of Isabelle's electives.

* * *

At that moment, in the great auditorium where preparations for Jansk University's entrance ceremony were in full swing, someone was staring blankly into thin air.

"What's this? A status...? Window?"

[Congratulations!]