Chapter 40 - Academy Field Trips Always Come Under Attack (4)

Contrary to popular belief, Ivan was not particularly obsessed with axes. (Dmitry, his former immediate subordinate, disagreed.)

Still, in Ivan's opinion, an axe was a tool with a great many advantages. Its weight distribution gave it more force than a sword when splitting or cleaving something. The back could serve as a blunt weapon, while the curved blade could hook and entangle an opponent's weapon.

Even aside from its merits as a weapon, it had many other applications. Ivan had once compiled a list of its various uses: bottle opener, can opener, door opener, head opener, and an effective means of opening anything else that could be opened.

SHING.

There was a simple reason these thoughts were running through Ivan's mind. He was taking out a sword. Personally, he wasn't very fond of swords, but it was necessary nonetheless.

He intended to spare no effort in dealing with the attack on the field exercise. The mere fact that he had demoted his axe to a secondary weapon showed how serious he was.

'Veolgrin.'

Just thinking about that arrogant elf made him grind his teeth. The bastard had shown up with all sorts of offensive spells prepared in advance, and he called it a test? Meanwhile, Ivan had gone in as casually as if he were taking a stroll, without even bringing out most of his arsenal. All he'd had was a single pistol and an axe!

That was his excuse, at least. Ivan knew perfectly well it was an excuse, but he had learned an important lesson nonetheless.

'Always be armed for the possibility of a hostile force on the level of the Hero's Party appearing at any moment.'

Essentially, as long as he could hold it, he wasn't picky about weapon types. Some weapons might feel more familiar in his hands, but there was no weapon he wasn't proficient with. He had spent twenty years on the front lines, after all. Standard-issue weapons broke often enough that he had needed to use whatever he could get his hands on.

Ivan secured daggers at his waist and in his sleeves, slung a sword at an angle at his hip, hung an axe at the small of his back, and tucked a pistol, magazines, and several explosive grenades inside his coat.

* * *

"Isn't this year's class remarkable, Lady Enrique?"

"Ah, yes."

"I have such high hopes. An exam you are personally overseeing! All the nobles of Prizhenkaya wanted to come and watch."

"You mean they want to make a spectacle of the students?"

"N-no! That isn't what I meant!"

Enrique shook her head, expressionless. The fellow yammering beside her taught second-year major courses in the Knight Department. His name was... She couldn't remember.

The fact was, she had lived a long time. (She refused to admit it.) Which meant she had met—and said goodbye to—a great many people over the years.

This was how the long-lived races viewed the world: they made a conscious effort not to remember people they had no reason to remember. It was necessary, unless they wanted to spend their entire lives mourning every acquaintance they would lose.

This fellow wasn't worth it. Enrique hadn't bothered to memorize this "professor's" name.

"I hear young Oscar's skills stand out. I have great expectations for him."

"Ah, you're from Thilles, aren't you?"

"Yes! You remembered!"

She did seem to have a vague recollection. He had belonged to some royal guard knightly order in Thilles, she thought... Enrique shook her head.

"Isabelle is very talented, too. And Yuri Frank—that girl is excellent."

"Isabelle goes without saying, but Yuri Frank... I've read that student's file myself, and, well... She's quite good for someone of such low birth."

"Low birth... you say?"

Enrique gave a soft scoff. Well, the girl was a war orphan, so one could call her lowborn. But did this sleek-looking fellow have any idea that half the Hero's Party had been lowborn? Maximilien, Einar, and herself. Enrique.

But what could she do? If that was what their noble lordships wished to think. Long past the hotheadedness of youth, Enrique merely shrugged.

"Enrique."

Just then, Ivan came striding toward her from the distance. Ignoring the babbling professor, she threw up a hand.

"Oh, Ivan! What brings you here?"

"May I observe?"

"Today's exam? I don't mind, but why bother?"

"There's something I want to check."

"Check, you say...?"

Grinning, Enrique moved to Ivan's side. The professor's expression abruptly turned frosty. What was this blatant favoritism? To his eyes, the man who had just arrived was nothing more than a shabby gardener.

"A pleasure. I am Robert Saint-Nard de Mondran, a full professor in the Knight Department. And your name?"

"Ivan Petrovich."

The name alone told him everything. With nothing but one of those patronymics peculiar to Krasilof, the man was a lowborn nobody without a family name. Robert's eyes grew colder still, and he frowned.

"Commoner. Know your place and keep to it. Surely the university has plenty of trees for you to tend. Why come all the way out here?"

"...?"

What was he talking about? Ivan tilted his head. How curious. It had been so long since anyone had picked a fight with him like this that he couldn't think of an appropriate response.

Usually, in such circumstances, Ivan would bury an axe in the other person's head. Letting people look down on you in the military led to all sorts of annoyances. But this was a university. How was one supposed to handle things in civilian society again? He took a moment to gather his thoughts.

Fortunately, he didn't need to intervene himself.

"You. Professor."

"Yes, Lady Enrique!"

"Do you have a death wish?"

"... Pardon?"

Enrique was glaring at Robert with blazing eyes.

"Ivan is my guest. At the very least, he's my friend; more importantly, he's my comrade. You dare insult my guest to my face? Is this what passes for etiquette in Thilles?"

"Well..."

"Shut your mouth. I have a keen nose, and your stench was already getting on my nerves. Four years ago, I'd have killed you for that alone. What a lovely world we live in now."

Killing intent oozed thickly from Enrique. Ivan reached out to calm this hysterical, ill-mannered relic of a bygone age.

"Enrique. It's fine."

"No, this little shit is pissing me off!"

"You need to start the exam. The students are waiting."

"Ugh, honestly."

Enrique cracked her neck, then turned and walked away. Having been directly exposed to her killing intent, Robert was still trembling. Ignoring him, Ivan followed her. The students had gathered in a clearing in the forest.

The Knight Department freshmen's first major exam, [Countering Sneak Attacks], had begun.

* * *

There were fifty-two first-year students in the Knight Department. Equipped with the university's standard-issue gear, they watched Enrique on the platform. She raised her hand and spread her fingers, revealing a small orb in her palm.

"This exam is on countering sneak attacks. People I've trained personally are scattered throughout this forest. They'll be attacking you."

The students weren't fazed by her words. They had expected as much.

"But that alone won't distinguish your abilities. Some of you might get lucky and never be targeted. So, you'll receive extra credit if you turn the tables and defeat your attackers. And one more thing."

She shook the orb as she spoke.

"You'll each receive one of these orbs. It's a magic item with a simple location-tracking spell. Reach the far side of the forest with it still in your possession, and you pass. Bring one or more orbs, and you'll receive additional credit."

A commotion broke out among the students at her words.

The best way to counter an ambush was to band together. With enough people gathered, they could cover one another's blind spots. But what about under those conditions? Their best option was to form small groups, hold out while the attackers and the other students wore each other down, then collect the orbs and escape.

"Not all of you will pass. The first five out of the forest will receive the highest scores, with deductions based on how late the rest of you get out. You have four hours in total. Protect your orbs and make it through the forest within that time. Understood?"

Ivan nodded as he listened. It was almost identical to the curriculum used to train Extermination Unit recruits. That alone made it a familiar exam, but the format was "familiar" in another sense, too.

'The perfect environment for an outside hostile force to intervene.'

This forest fell within the Prizhenkaya area. There was also a military base only a short distance beyond its edge. In other words, it was perfectly safe. That must have been why the university had approved such a harsh exam.

But this was an academy field exercise. An outside enemy would therefore attack without fail. In that case, set aside the "why" and consider the "how."

'They can't be lying in wait in the forest. Enrique's subordinates will have already searched it.'

Then where would the attack come from? Not the sky, either. Since the incident with the elves' aerial battleship, Krasilof had been taking its air defenses very seriously.

An attack overland would be all but impossible. Even if there were a way to bypass the military base, Counterintelligence Command was on high alert after the recent train attack in this area.

Which meant...

'Underground.'

By process of elimination, underground was the only place the attackers could emerge from. This reasoning only worked if one was certain an attack would happen, but Ivan was a sensible man, so he had no doubts on that score.

'Those leveling bastards.'

Assuming the attackers were coming through underground tunnels, only one race came to mind: Dwarves. Those communist midgets. It was nearly impossible to prepare for their underground assaults, because there was no predicting where they would emerge.

But their tactical objectives offered a basis for deduction. Assuming Dwarves were going to attack, there were only so many targets that would make the demon army bother striking an academy's freshman midterms.

'Isabelle or Oscar.'

The children of the Hero's Party were objects of terrible hatred to the demon army simply by existing. The Hero's Party had slaughtered most of the Seven Dragon Generals and killed even the Demon King. Its members had since integrated themselves into various strata of society, making them difficult to strike directly. Their children were another matter.

Seeing the people who had cast their entire race into the depths of misery happily raising children of their own would be more than enough to drive the demons mad with rage. Seen in that light, the incident was perfectly transparent to Ivan.

Once you had identified a terrorist attack's motive, method, and target, it was no longer terrorism. Just a rampage.

Ivan watched Isabelle from a distance as she held her orb. Whatever she was thinking, she kept grinning to herself.

CLACK.

Ivan rested his hand on the sword slung at his hip. He had even brought out a sword to face the Dwarves, since they were difficult to deal with using an axe. In other words, his preparations were complete.

* * *

"Oh, come on... Honestly, mister."

Isabelle grinned at Ivan, standing in the corner of the platform. The sight of him standing so confidently, a sword at his hip like a knight despite how little it suited him, was wonderfully reassuring.

Ivan was a gardener. Strictly speaking, he was a state secret agent, but on the surface, at least, he was a gardener. So what reason could he have for going out of his way—really, truly out of his way—to come and observe this exam?

"You worry too much. Honestly."

Struggling to keep her expression under control, Isabelle looked away. That thoughtful man was worried about her. And he probably wanted to see the results of his training, too.

Yes, she'd show him. Loosening her shoulders, she gripped her sword hilt firmly. She would show him the results of those awful days of training right before his eyes, claim the top student's spot fair and square, and boast about it.

Then she could thank him for helping her train and casually suggest a meal. Hmm. Or at least coffee. Mmm... Or perhaps a play. Krasilof was renowned for its arts and culture, after all.

For a moment, Isabelle pictured Ivan watching an opera. The image was so terribly incongruous that she couldn't help laughing.

"..."

Meanwhile, Ivan, being an extremely efficient man, was making his final preparations to give the Dwarves a shave.