Abby and I continued to talk—Well, I continued to listen to her talk for a while until a tolling bell interrupted her mid-sentence. In a panic, she grabbed my wrist and led me out of the main campus. Passing by what appeared to be a smaller and more pristine version of the Roman colosseum, and towards the unremarkable building next to it.

  My gaze alternated back and forth between the two, thinking about how the academy could built two neighboring buildings with a lack of consistency between one another and even the rest of the campus. I knew the academy would be loaded, but the colosseum in my opinion was a step too far in trying to flaunt their status. And a portion of that budget would certainly be more useful if allocated to its neighbor.

  Honestly, it didn't have the intended effect that the school board was probably going for. Only serving to highlight the glaring flaw in their management.

  "W-where... Where are we?" I panted as we finally stopped right before the entrance. She was surprisingly nimble for her stature.

  "Our next class, weapon combat. Inside is the indoor training ground that most combat related classes are exclusively held in."

  "And the colosseum next to it is just for show?"

  "Pretty much," she shrugged. "It's only ever used for events that showcase the best and brightest of the academy."

  So not that important for now, I thought as I gave it one final look before heading inside the training grounds. It was sparsely packed inside because we were ones of the very few to have arrived first. With the rest being the few key figures in our class.

  "Don't just stand there," Abby gently tugged at the sleeves of my blazer and urged me towards the reception desk left of the entrance. "We need to write down our names first before we could head inside."

  Not even half a day yet and I was already encountering a problem. I needed to write my name down using the characters native to Aegis, but the act of writing my name itself had been engraved into muscle memory after doing it throughout my whole life. Thus unknowingly, I've written it down much like how I normally would back on Earth. But I wished that was the end of it, because the fountain pen I used from Double wasn't an ordinary one.

  And slowly, I watched in horror as the ink danced and flowed on the parchment like a slithering snake. Rearranging my name from the characters I was familiar with into the Aegisian script. And I wasn't the only one to witness it.

  "Miss, I have never seen anything quite like what you've shown in the last decade since I've started working in this academy," the middle-aged receptionist said in awe while fixing his glasses. "And I thought I've seen them all."

  "Same here," Abby nodded in agreement. "I've seen the kind of otherworldly works my people have created, yet not one of them had ever created something like this."

  "From the lack of necessity I'm certain."

  "Of course," she responded to the receptionist. "It might've done wonders centuries ago before we all used the Aegis script."

  She ran her fingers along my name, marvelling at how clean of a job it had been. The ink had properly set and there were no traces or odd botches leftover from when it shifted to an entirely different character.

  "I wonder, does the trick lie in the ink or the pen itself?"

  "W-well uhh... I don't really know. I got it from my... uncle! Yeah, that's it. I'm still struggling to write in Aegis script, with all those... squiggly lines and such. And I still used my own native characters from time to time out of habit, so the pen is just something to remedy all that."

  [Smooth...]

  The sarcasm was apparent, even if it came from an unspoken message. I tried to ignore Mika and focus on playing this whole thing off. Forcing a chuckle out of my throat and scratching the back of my head sheepishly.

  "I see," Abby beamed despite the lackluster explanation I gave. "I think it's fascinating. While I don't see the prospect of it being an assist tool for writing. Artist would definitely find it useful. Just imagine being able to manipulate each stroke to your desired perfection..."

  She continued to marvel at the possibilities afterwards. Going on and on as if trying to pitch the idea, but not to anyone in particular.

  [Seems like Mr. Tojou should expect some guests when he makes landfall.]

  I created some space between us and moved myself towards a more secluded space where I could speak just loud enough so the speakers embedded in the rim could pick up my voice, but also not cause any heads to turn towards me.

  "How'd you know?"

  [Just look at those eyes.]

  [The only thing less subtle than that would be if it cartoonishly turned into dollar signs.]

  "Should I be concerned?"

  [Eh, let it be.]

  [She's probably groomed to be that way.]

  [But if she starts asking too much questions, don't hesitate to cut her off.]

  And he wanted me to believe that it was that simple, huh? Maybe it was for a person observing this world through a live feed instead of living through it amongst the people here. Or perhaps he's done it long enough to understand that we were merely an observer with special privileges to shape their story.

  That view... it wasn't that dissimilar to the one I had while I was the hero of Mistveil.

  "I hope it doesn't come to that..." I murmured under my breath and didn't notice Abby walking closer, and just enough to hear parts of it.

  "What was that?"

  "A-ah, nothing. Can we go in now?"

  "About that... The receptionist said there was an issue. With you specifically."

  I gulped. The way she emphasized that "you" was panic inducing, and I could hear my racing heartbeat in my ears. Growing more erratic as the line of students in front of me steadily decreased, one person at a time.

  "I-I heard there's a problem?" I asked once it was finally my turn to stand before the receptionist again.

  "Right, you scurried off before I could tell you," his tone serious and mildly irritated at first. Though that angered was then channeled away from me and towards an invisible third party. "We never received your measurements, so we couldn't tailor your gambeson. Please write it down for me so that we can contact our contractors immediately afterwards."

  [Whoops]

  [In my defense, the headmaster didn't mention anything about a gambeson when I came to fill in your information]

  I tried not to show my discontent at Mika's negligence while the receptionist pulled out a piece of parchment and slid it towards me. I had to remind myself not to repeat the same mistake I made earlier before writing anything down. And Mika actually helped for once.

  [I've already converted them to this world's units of measure]

  [Write it down exactly as I've written here:]

  The message then flashed those wiggly symbols that I had to slowly and sloppily traced onto the paper. It looked unintelligible, but that's what the pen was for. And now that the cat's out of the bag, I didn't have to go through great lengths to hide it. But as if Mika was directly whispering into my ears right now, I could hear a nagging voice scolding me to still keep it on the down low.

  "Alrighty then," the receptionist picked it up and gave it a quick read while fixing his glasses. "I also spoke with your instructor. Said while it is a shame, it'd be fine if you only watch for the time being. Just ignore the doors on both sides and keep moving forward. That will take you to the viewing deck."

  If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  "I understand. Thank you and... sorry for the inconvenience."

  I gave a curt bow and head my way to the viewing deck as instructed. Stepping through the larger entrance leading to a long hallway with glass shelves showcasing the numerous trophies, medals and plaques the academy had earned over the decades. And finally climbed a set of stairs at the end of the path to the empty platform above. I was alone up here, with a full view of the training grounds below.

  Training dummies made up of a bundle of straws were planted firmly on the dirt ground in rows next to one another on one side. And on the opposite end—the part directly below me—was either the exit to the locker rooms or the weapons storage. I assumed by how everyone seemed to be entering from there. All wearing their specialized gambeson, the sigil of their house stitched over the left side of their chest, next to where the heart should be. And all brandishing their weapons of choice.

  A choice that was made without much thought put into it.

  I've seen people brandish their weapons probably hundreds of times by now—both allies and foes alike—to know when it is wielded by someone with experience. I could tell them apart by the look in their eyes. Always so sharp, empty to an extent, but also an undeniable flicker of a simple desire: to win.

  But what I see from most of these kids were none of that. The fundamentals were there, sure. But there was also uncertainty, fear, and ignorance.

  Most opted for the sword or rapier. Simple by design and usage, decent range with a sharp tip. Or at least that's what I assumed was going on in these students' head as they mindlessly charged forward trying to stab one another and pray to their goddess the sword on the opposite end didn't connect.

  The more timid ones picked up a spear, and not for any convoluted reason. A blade attached to a long stick, the perfect weapon if your entire goal was to keep your opponent at range. But the way they used it certainly left a lot to be desired. Holding it by the end of the shaft and pointing it to wherever their opponents moved.

  Even managed to really annoyed one guy too.

  "Tch! Do something you fuckwit!"

  "Hiieee!! Just stay back!"

  If he wasn't so blinded by his short temper, he would've noticed the slight wobble on the tip of the spear. His opponent was holding it on the very opposite end after all, not a very stable grip. He could've easily swatted it away with his blade with a bit more force.

  "It really is a shame you couldn't be down there..." Caldwell who had been silently watching beside me finally had something to say.

  "You mean it's a shame YOU couldn't be down there," Evelynn retorted. "Couldn't leave those kids be, could you?"

  "You're making it sound as if I hold some nefarious motive behind it."

  He went completely silent again as his gaze returned to the scene beneath us. It was hard to tell what he was feeling watching all this. There was a noticeable hint of contempt beneath those eyes, especially as he stared at the instructor who didn't seem like he particularly care what happens to his students. Or more accurately, he only cared for a portion of them: our key figures.

  "Your swordsmanship is as wonderful as always, your highness. But if I may suggest?"

  "You may," Vincent coolly answered while wiping the sweat off his face with a towel.

  "Do not stay on the defensive for long waiting for an opportune moment to strike. Try to mix in a few parries with your blocks and don't hesitate to switch to the offensive."

  "Hmm... I'll take that into consideration. Apologies."

  "I am not trying to berate you, your highness. Just an advice after a careful observation of your training with Sir Bertrand. It is my duty as your instructor, after all."

  Bastard didn't even try to hide his favoritism.

  But looking back up at Caldwell, while his eyes spoke of contempt, the corner of his lips subtly twitched upward in delight. And while there was still a hint of that contempt and disappointment, a flicker of understanding started to softened his gaze as his sight moved away from the instructor and towards the rest of the students practicing.

  "It's a peaceful world," he quietly said. "When I was their age—"

  Evelynn groaned, she knew exactly where this conversation was heading towards. And while we didn't usually see eye-to-eye, we do share a common opinion over his ramblings about a time long past, though for a completely different reason.

  "Yes yes, we had it harder than these children. You've told this hundreds of times by now. Do you have more stories to tell that doesn't remind me about how sad our times were."

  "If you hadn't interrupted me, I was about to say how combat were more of a necessity. Here, it's nothing more than formality, if nothing else. Wasn't it the same for you? Even as a scholar, to the kings and nobles of our time, your kind were nothing more than added manpower in their wars. Can be easily bought for the right offer."

  "Only the desperate would answer their calls," Evelynn scoffed. She then looked away with a deep scowl on her face. Not only had she lost interest in the topic, her expression also carried a silent plea to not discuss it any further. The way she stared blankly ahead was a clear sign as any that it'd be best to respect her wishes.

  Nothing interesting happened in the next few minutes. The students kept practicing on their own and traded blows over and over. I saw how Abby fought, and it was nothing spectacular as well.

  But this seemingly mindless task was done for a reason, to find a suitable candidate for the so-called love interest. Didn't really understand how combat played any part in that whatsoever, but it wasn't like I had anything better to do than to watch all of them. Nor would I be the one to decide who the lucky—or arguably unlucky—gal would be anyways.

  [Whatcha think?]

  "H-huh? You're asking for my opinion?"

  [I wouldn't ask otherwise]

  "W-well... I don't know what your criteria is exactly, but if I had to choose then..."

  I hadn't really thought about it, so I took my time looking at all of the female students present. There was no use narrowing down my choice in such a short span of time, especially since the filters were mostly physical attributes which I had no idea how to properly utilize since obviously I couldn't tell what Zefer's type was exactly.

  Basing it off of personality was also a no-go. Hard to tell when I didn't know any of them personally except for Abby, and we've only known each other for less than an hour. So if I had to go by gut feeling alone, then...

  "Her."

  I locked my eyes on the girl alone in the corner. Practicing sword swings against a training dummy, unconcerned over the mocking looks aimed her way. Her long blonde locks had been cleansed of the grime that was sticking to them earlier in class, and a touch of moisture from the brisk wash was still present in the way it reflected the sunlight seeping in through the large windows. Framing her in an almost ethereal glow despite the disheveled appearance.

  Logically speaking, it was a safe choice. She was above average at worst in terms of appearance. Of course the whole "bully victim" part could be considered a massive reason to steer clear from her, but in this case,

  "Heroes help people, and she definitely look like someone who could use one. I think it'd be a great start for Zefer. If you want our fledgling to grow into a proper hero, then he should probably start with trying to help one person first. And though I don't know much about romance, I think caring for someone is one way to get there..."

  There was an uncomfortably long pause from Mika. Leaving me to wonder if either the signal somehow got cut off, or more likely, he was laughing his ass off at my stupid conclusion. For training my sights on the victim needed saving instead of the potential spouse that I was supposed to be looking for.

  And I said it so confidently as well... So embarrassing.

  [Did I cover her in the briefing?]

  "Um... I don't think so. Why?"

  [Because she's already taken]

  "Huh!?" I said aloud, attracting a few glances which I brushed off with a quieter apology.

  One would think that if someone's significant other was being harassed, they'd step up to protect her no matter the cost. Or more likely, save themselves the trouble of being associated with her and just end the relationship.

  "It's probably not a normal relationship between teenagers, is it?"

  [Alicia Marchal]

  [Eldest daughter of the Marchal household which holds authority over a duchy with the same name down south]

  [And the real kicker is that she's engaged with the crown prince of Feuille]

  "Vincent III," I muttered his name with a sigh. Of course it had to be that complicated. Just me and my rotten luck. "I guess that's that..."

  [No, let's go with your pick]

  I would've screamed out loud had I not inwardly chided myself beforehand.

  Did my eyes deceived me or did he suggest that we led Zefer to snatched away the fiancé of the crown prince? Ethics aside—which to be fair we barely even considered at this point—we'd be meddling with royalty if we chose to go this route. And what would that spell out for Zefer himself? To obstruct in the way of royal matrimony; wouldn't that warrant the death sentence?

  "What have you been mumbling about?" Evelynn asked with that dangerous glint in her eyes that always spoke of trouble whenever present: curiosity. "Don't keep me out of the loop."

  And with a reluctant heart, I answered, "Mika wanted hook our target up with the crown prince's fiancé"

  That glint in her eyes shone even brighter. Her lips curved upward from ear to ear, pearly whites flashing before me. If letters were to be engraved on each of those tooth, it would definitely spell out trouble.

  "It's that blonde haired girl, right?"

  "Evelynn..."

  "What? I'm just asking. No need to worry honey, and you can calm your ass down big guy."

  Caldwell and I knew we couldn't trust her words. There was a plan brewing behind that uncharacteristically innocent look of hers. Whether good or bad, I was definitely about to take any chances.

  But before I could warn her, the instructor's booming voice echoed loudly against the walls. Alerting even me who was standing quite a distance above him.

  "Warm-ups done! And for those of you who hadn't, don't complain if you get a cramp after this. Without further ado, it's time for a proper duel! As usual, your opponents will be randomly assigned through a raffle. And until the new girl can join us, one of you will be fighting me again."

  A choir of groans followed at the thought. The instructor ignored their complaints and started to dig his hand into the hole atop the small chest resting on a podium. He fished crumpled pieces of paper out two at a time and called out the number written on them. Those who have the corresponding number embroidered onto the gambeson's left sleeve would step forward to find their opponent.

  [The chest's shaking on its own]

  [Kariiiiiiiiiin]

  My sight was locked onto the instructor and my classmates that I barely paid any attention to the chest. It was subtle enough that nobody would notice it at first unless they really scrutinized it and noticed its rattle. I didn't even have to confirm their absence from beside me to know that Caldwell and Evelynn were behind this. I hoped that wasn't the case, but that hope would be nothing more than a vain attempt to lie to myself.

  The instructor reached his hand into the chest once again without batting an eye at it. Unfurling the papers in his hands and loudly announced, "Number 12 against... 53."

  Number 12—Alicia Marchal—stepped forward first. Following that was a brief period of silence where her opponent was nowhere to be seen, or maybe they didn't want to be seen at all. Unfortunately for them however, this class had been formed for long enough for people to remember which number belonged to whom, and students soon parted way for the person hiding in the very back of the group. And who else would it be if not the man himself, Zefer.

  I sunk down onto one of the seats with a quiet groan. Taking the glasses off before I buried my flushed face into the palm of my hands.

  "Fuck me..."