Nothing happened.

  Training, lectures and the gruelling evenings continued as usual. They had a great time watching the third-year horse races, which a cat eventually won rather than a knight, and none of the third years seemed surprised at all. That reinforced Ioha’s memories from school and university about how age segregated education could be.

  Almost every day one ability or another flickered alive, and he gained a point, but since they were spread among every conceivable ability type, he hardly noticed the difference. That might take a year, and even then, only if he had an opportunity to compare against a copy of himself who had learned nothing during that time. He didn’t care. Years of training martial arts already taught him that one day you simply realised you were actually better than before.

  What did change was how he managed to use what he already knew. This world might work like a game, but only to a certain degree. Two persons with the same ability at the same numbers could still perform very differently. Experience and fast thinking made a difference, and there were no points for those. Among other things, he noted the absence of mental abilities that actually should have made him smarter. Yes, he did have some kind of intelligence look-alike ability. He arrived with it in the high nineties a year and a half earlier, and it never changed. Ioha suspected it would drop if he ever suffered from brain damage, but the important thing was that it represented an aspect of him that already was, rather than something he could train. Well, unless there was a teacher out there somewhere who could really train you to be smarter.

  His shields weren’t harder or able to sustain more damage, but he learned where and when to place them. He learned when and why to drop his brittle force fields in combination with a shield to get the most out of them. Above everything else, he learned how to funnel his opponents with a series of shields and when to exaggerate the fireworks – an effect that could be seen, usually made people behave differently from when it was invisible.

  Then another small change.

  “And this goes here.”

  “It looks strange, and uncool.”

  Ioha scratched his head. Maybe it did look uncool. “But it’s convenient. Besides, I’m always cool.” He slung his shield over his shoulder. The guige he spent most of an afternoon making, adding several points to his pitiful leather-working ability and too many stripes of leather to count, was a vast improvement. He used to wonder about the metal clasps on the inside of his shield, and now he knew. “Look, I can have it on my back when marching, and I could even use my sword two-handed.”

  Ai looked at his basket hilt. “Two-handed?”

  “Well, if it were a spear, I could.”

  “It’s not a spear.”

  “But if it was.”

  “Get a spear!”

  And so it was they found themselves in the same shop for the third time, his fourth. The clerk waved at his surprise regulars when they disturbed the doorbell bell, and Ioha went straight to the wall where he had seen polearms during their last visit. There was a dizzying array of them, including a naginata he had absolutely no interest in.

  “What do you think about this?”

  “A halberd? I thought you usually wanted to fight one-handed.”

  Maybe he let his fantasies wander too far when he made that guige. The halberd made its way back on the wall. So, a one-handed polearm. Like, for example, the spear that was the reason for them to be here in the first place. He lifted one down. It felt good in his hand, but he would have preferred something like a cross guard below the blade.

  “Ioha, want to play Neptune?”

  He looked up. Ai pointed at a trident that looked absolutely ridiculous, but above it hung a weapon that caught his interest. A partisan, a foot soldier’s choice against cavalry or, in his case, monsters. In case his opponent turned out to be human, the wings could be used for disarming. Ioha put the spear back and grabbed the partisan. Yes, this was it. “Ai, have a look.”

  “A spear.”

  “It’s a, yeah, a spear. Cool?” He still wanted her to think it looked cool.

  “It’s OK. Serrated hooks for disarming?” She was always brighter than what she wanted other people to believe. It held true in both her forms.

  “And one of the reasons I want to be able to hang my shield in a sling. I’m strong, but if I want to wrench a weapon out of someone’s hands, I need both my own hands.”

  She combed her hair with her fingers. It had almost grown as long as before she visited the hair salon. “Makes sense. No more sword and board?”

  “I’ll just have this as an option. Need to train with it before I use it.”

  Ai smiled. “Sword and board is cooler.”

  Ioha paid, and they left in a hurry. The daily evening grind lay ahead of them, and they were late. When they arrived at the field, the four others already stood waiting. Miri had armed herself with a hatchet since a week ago. She didn’t like to be the only one unarmed, and she wasn’t alone. More and more of the staff students sported hatchets or daggers.

  “Planning a barbecue?” Canadena teased. She sat arm in arm with Karaki on the fence.

  “Just trying out something new.” Ioha slung the shield from his back to where he could strap it on with one arm. He failed horribly.

  “You should stop that new thing,” Karaki offered. He was rewarded with a general guffaw while Ioha strapped his shield on properly. If he wanted to use it this way, he needed to loosen the straps.

  The partisan had to wait for later. Right now, they tried out new patterns both for combat training but also to get a better understanding of the theory they were taught. Ioha didn’t want to waste their time while he clumsily got accustomed to a new weapon.

  The evening sun eventually dropped, as did their stamina, together with the temperature. Ioha got a shiny new point in his ability to handle a physical shield, and their training session came to an end.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  ***

  Someone sent a complaint to the cats’ class administration. That someone turned out to be Anthony Clevasti. For once, the problem wasn’t one of too much carousing but rather too little. The Clevastis held a celebration for Anthony becoming the pillar of the freshmen. Not a single first-year cat joined, not even their princess. That most of the mercs were absent as well wasn’t as much of a problem since only a few of them had been invited; however, this was also true for the cats.

  The real problem apparently lay in Sir Ioha Questingtank instigating his fellow cats to boycott Anthony Clevasti’s rightful moment of recognition.

  “Bollocks!” said Karaki.

  “Bollocks!” confirmed Canadena.

  “Absolutely bollocks!” emphasised their princess. “A mere knight stopped the first daughter of Lord Argander from participating in a celebration? Is he daft?”

  “Bollocks seems to be it,” Genu added.

  “It would seem that we are on a mind that it’s bollocks,” agreed Ai.

  “Some people would even have called it bollocks,” suggested Mira.

  “Which,” Harvali Terendala began and looked at their headmaster, “sums up the opinions of representatives from the two other main divisions as well as all the three combat classes, including the primus of the freshman spellsword class,” he pointed at the princess, “and I am willing to call upon more witnesses if need be.”

  “They are his friends,” complained their headmaster, a balding gentleman in his fifties. He was also one of Clevasti's cronies.

  “Which is why I offer to call upon other witnesses. Those would include the fourth-year primus spellsword student as well.” That was a blatant threat. Involving two major families in the conflict could cause the situation to boil over, especially as the princess represented a third middling power and couldn’t be accused of having taken sides in the longstanding conflict between the Clevastis on one side and the Nakagawa and Questingtank on the other.

  “I don’t think that will be needed.”

  “Then, Sir, I will assume this problem is resolved.”

  “You could assume so.”

  “Should my assumption turn out to be incorrect, I shall be severely wroth.”

  Gods, he’s so wonderfully stuck up!

  “I… I will take that into consideration.”

  “Ladies, gentlemen, I believe we are done then.” Harvali bowed and left.

  The rest of them filed out of the room until the headmaster called out. “Young Questingtank, if you have a moment.”

  Ioha wasn’t the sixteen-year-old he looked. He was twenty-seven. Singling someone out after a group meeting was a very old trick in the book, and he didn’t intend to be roped in. “Sir Terendala, it seems our headmaster has more on his mind,” he called down the stairs.

  “No, no, it’s nothing. You may leave,” came the voice from inside the office.

  Ioha did so. He didn’t bother to close the door behind him. It was rude, but he knew it was keyed to the older man’s command, and sure enough, it swung shut as soon as Ioha climbed down the stairs.

  OK, that’s going to bite me in the arse later. There was nothing he could do. Just stick to what Harvali said earlier. Another two weeks and summer break awaited. Three more years of this shit? But there was no school even close to Spellsword Academy when it came to quality. At the capital, probably, but that lay ages away, and there was no guarantee he’d be accepted. So, yes, another three years.

  The sound of feet descending the stairs suddenly stopped. Someone spoke from the entrance corridor, but Ioha couldn’t hear what they said. A few seconds later, he caught up with Miri in the perpetually poorly lit staircase. “What’s up?”

  “Quarrelling,” she said and pointed downwards.

  Ioha overtook her and continued down. Another flight of stairs, and he could hear Genu and Anthony in a heated conversation.

  “Your disloyalty is astounding.”

  “Disloyalty? My loyalty lies with House Levaita. You’d do well to bear that in mind!”

  “You have an obligation to…”

  “A very dangerous statement, young Clevasti,” interrupted Harvali. “Did you just propose that he abandon his lord?”

  “That’s none of your business!”

  “Young Clevasti, for another two weeks, everything that happens in the combat division is my business. Have you forgotten I am the pillar of the fourth years and hence all students here?”

  “You have no reason to…”

  “Formally lodge a complaint against your family for sedition?” Harvali’s voice had turned dangerously silken.

  “What?”

  “Did you believe I would silently watch a breach of our constitution. Lai Terem Gaista might be weak, but there are still some families who would raise arms in her hour of need.”

  Anthony backed into a chair and sat down. What had begun as a whining quarrel about social niceties rapidly escalated into threats of full-scale war. “You wouldn’t!”

  “I’d fail my graduation, but three months from now you’d welcome three thousand onto your lands. Maybe a thousand more, since Lord Terendala would be quite vexed with me failing my graduation with so little time left.” The fourth year bent over Anthony. “Make no mistake. We Terendala are waiting for the Clevastis to commit a wrong grave enough to give us an excuse to march here.”

  “You really wouldn’t.” There was no longer any real conviction left in Anthony’s voice.

  “Look, shithead,” Ai shot in, “with what money do you believe we paid for the translocation of half a dozen of the most high-profile teachers this school has seen?" Her hair danced around her head in a display of anger. Her Japanese version had a hairdo that didn’t reveal her emotions as quickly as her freckled Isekai one. And, apparently, she was a lot more involved with the political scene than she let out.

  “You didn’t.”

  “Oh yes, we did.” A new voice from the entrance that had just opened.

  Ah, of course! This was a setup.

  In the doorway, Derina Wari stood, prepared to screw Anthony’s day up royally. “Did my uptight friend here talk about troops?” He must have practised a lot because Ioha didn’t know one could release a grin that wide and still not allow it to reach his eyes. “We’re not as strong, militarily, but I guess I could add another five hundred, tops.” The grin widened. “But I can promise you I could personally fund Every. Single. Soldier marching under the Terendala emblems. Life’s so much better when you don’t have to ask daddy for permission or money.”

  Yes, this was a setup. From the moment someone skulked around and learned the headmaster planned something bad until this moment with Anthony shouldering the threat of an invasion.

  “Young Clevasti. The two of us will leave this school in two weeks. Now, during the coming three years, should anything bad befall anyone attending this school under our protection, and trust me when I say my spies are absolutely horrifyingly good, well, you can guess the rest.” Derina might behave like a clown, but there was something eerie about him that Ioha wanted to avoid at all costs.

  “Since I have had my doubts about your intellectual capacity for most of the last year, please allow me to clarify,” Harvali started. “My friend here, because this cat is indeed my trusted friend, will tell me if that bad thing happens, and he will pay me to have our soldiers march here that much faster to make it absolutely certain that whatever happens to you and your family will be much, much worse.” He still bent over the terrified Anthony. “Now, young Clevasti, are we absolutely, without any room for misunderstanding whatsoever, clear about this?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes what?”

  “Yes, Sir Terendala!”

  “Good boy.”

  And that was how another problem suddenly ended.