Swordsmanship class.
The official name was Practical Swordsmanship and Bladed Weapons.
Guns and cannons had already made their appearance on the battlefield, yet the sword still ruled the field of war.
Firearms were slow, and artillery was limited. A sword, on the other hand, was always in hand — and it killed with the most certainty.
Nobles learned swordsmanship as a basic accomplishment. No technique was more efficient in actual combat, and it symbolized the dignity and nobility befitting their station.
Ofilienne had taken swordsmanship as well.
Those who had already taken the course all said the same thing.
"Don't expect a good grade from Professor Vilhelmine."
"I've never seen anyone get a first-tier mark in her class."
Swordsmanship Professor Vilhelmine was notorious for being cold and impassive.
Every person is born with a certain innate presence.
Some overflow with charisma like a lion, leading the pack — others are timid as rabbits.
Vilhelmine was a wolf.
She carried the aura of a beast that prowled alone in solitude.
"Matyos Binna Moretti."
Through curtains of jet-black hair, a pair of crimson eyes — as though blood had seeped into them — looked down at me.
That expressionless face made my blood run cold on its own.
Professor Vilhelmine stood a full head taller than me.
A black jacket that called to mind a soldier, her clothes immaculately pressed. She had her weight shifted onto one leg, her arm resting on the hilt of her sword, eyes narrowed to slits.
Every student's gaze converged on me.
First class, and a young lord from a distinguished family had shown up late — this was no small matter.
"Anything to say?"
"…"
Either way, there was only one option right now.
"I apologize, Professor."
I bowed at the waist to Professor Vilhelmine.
A sincere apology. The way to defuse someone's anger is to acknowledge the fault and apologize.
No need to take the complicated route. An apology solves a great many problems.
I felt Professor Vilhelmine's gaze resting on me in silence.
"See that you are not late again."
Had the apology worked? The rigid edge in her voice seemed to soften, just slightly.
"Understood."
"And stay after class."
"…Pardon?"
"Go in."
I turned away with a vague sense of unease.
"Ahh… I'm so sorry, Mati…!"
Tiana grabbed both my hands and apologized.
"Why are you sorry, Tiana?"
"My prayers must have been too weak… I prayed so hard that you wouldn't be late, and you still got scolded for it."
Her eyes glistening with moisture, Tiana clutched her cross tightly.
Honestly, this woman was too pure for her own good.
I shook my head.
"That's not your fault at all. I was just late."
"Were you too nervous last night?"
Taibeon wiped the sweat from his brow as he spoke.
"Probably."
I said as much and picked up a practice sword. The blade wasn't sharpened, but it was a solid, weighty steel sword.
The other students had already chosen weapons suited to their hands.
Tiana had taken a one-handed bastard sword; Taibeon and I both picked up two-handed longswords.
They'd apparently gone straight into the lesson without any orientation — everyone had beads of sweat on their foreheads.
"Mati, we were sparring before you got here. The whole class is a sparring session!"
"Sparring?"
"Yeah! We're supposed to pair up and face each other. I paired with Taibeon."
"That leaves the numbers uneven, then."
"Right… Maybe you could spar with the professor…"
"How about sparring with me?"
Just as we were at a loss over the odd numbers, a bright, cheerful girl with pink hair approached.
When all eyes turned to her, the pink-haired girl smiled brightly and introduced herself.
"Hello! I'm Joi. Joi Rivet."
"I'm Tiana. This is my little brother Taibeon, and this is also my little brother Matyos! You want to spar with us?"
"Yes. I don't have a partner either, and your numbers don't add up, so I thought we could all work together!"
"Let's do it! That alright with you two?"
"Fine by me."
"Same."
With permission granted, Joi singled me out.
"Hmm, then I'd like to spar with Matyos, if that's alright?"
"Sure. I don't mind."
I shrugged.
Joi Rivet, though. The name didn't ring any bells.
'Just a minor character?'
That seemed too easy an answer — Joi's personality and appearance were far too distinctive for a passing extra.
She didn't look like someone who'd simply fade into the background.
'Then… could it be.'
I thought back to the one I'd been trying to identify on the train.
'No way. Someone this pretty couldn't possibly be…'
I looked at Joi standing before me.
She came running with an innocent smile on her face.
"Hah!"
Clang!
Sword met sword.
I tried to deflect her attack, but the weight behind it was unbelievably heavy.
I lost my footing and stumbled.
It was a perfect opening for Joi.
But she hesitated — and gave me time to recover before coming at me again.
Clang!
This time it was light.
Light enough that even I, with my meager strength, could deflect it easily.
"Whoa!"
But then Joi tumbled to the ground entirely, her sword slipping from her hand.
Her skirt fluttered up slightly, offering a glimpse of somewhere it shouldn't.
It was a scene so perfectly composed it looked staged.
"Ah… I really can't do this, can I. You're just too strong."
"…"
Joi rose with a loose, easy smile.
She brushed off her legs in a way that seemed to deliberately accentuate her shapely figure.
Along the inner thigh, a faint burn scar peeked into view.
In that instant, I knew.
I lowered my sword.
I looked at 'him' with eyes gone cold and flat.
'You little—'
What kind of acting is this.
*
The academy was rife with incidents and schemes.
Among them was a certain bastard — one who posed as a helper to the protagonist siblings, only to betray them at the most critical moment.
'Henri Valte.'
Eighty years old, a senior assassin affiliated with the Black Moon Pact, who had personally infiltrated the academy.
That's right.
The lovely young girl standing before me was Henri Valte.
An eighty-year-old assassin in disguise. That was the true identity of Joi Rivet.
"Surely you didn't see my underwear!?"
Joi pressed her skirt down firmly and glared at me with feigned indignation.
It was an undeniably charming sight — but knowing her, no, his true identity, I found it nothing short of revolting.
"Let's go aga— ah!"
Joi came running and tumbled over in a picture-perfect fall.
And once again, her — his — undergarments came into view.
And there was something rather weighty visible between those legs…
'Please.'
I squeezed my eyes shut.
This was nothing short of torture.
Whatever the exterior looked like, what was inside was an eighty-year-old man. And not just any old man — a cold-blooded assassin. His combat ability was said to rival the Sword Saint. And this person was—
'Why is he approaching me?'
"Oopsie!"
I ignored Joi (Henri) making a fuss over yet another tumble and sank into thought.
The answer came quickly.
'…Because my sister is the Crown Prince's fiancée.'
Henri's purpose in infiltrating the academy.
It was the assassination of the imperial emperor.
The emperor, who stood at the highest pinnacle of power. To assassinate him, a suitable venue was needed — and that venue was the academy.
'And on top of that, I'm indirectly tied to the imperial family.'
But that was beside the point.
From my perspective, this was deeply, profoundly uncomfortable.
Just imagine: a decrepit old man disguised as a pink-haired beauty, trying to seduce you.
'Horrifying.'
Fortunately, the sparring session with Joi (Henri) ended quickly. I was the one who called it off and suggested switching partners.
Joi knelt on one knee, breathing hard.
"Hah, hah."
The male students kept stealing glances at Joi.
When their eyes met hers, Joi would turn away with a bashful little look.
Poor fools.
I sat down on a bench for a moment's rest.
As I wet my throat with cool water, fragments of conversation drifted over — the students were talking about Professor Vilhelmine.
"…She's terrifying. Scarier than the imperial guards I've seen."
"Agreed. I made eye contact with her earlier and nearly died."
"But which family is the professor from? She looks incredibly young, though."
"You don't know?"
"I'm not from the empire, so no."
"She's His Majesty the Emperor's granddaughter."
"What? She's an imperial princess?"
"Shh! Watch your mouth."
"W-why are you suddenly—"
"…She's not a princess anymore. His Majesty had her struck from the family register."
"Struck from the register?"
"That's all I can say. There's a gag order on this topic."
I rested long enough, then walked over to the Pilrn siblings.
"Mati, do you know anything about the professor? You're a noble, after all."
Tiana came over wiping sweat from her brow and asked.
"Not much."
The Pilrn siblings were curious about Professor Vilhelmine too.
For all the rumors about how frightening she was, no one seemed to know the details.
"She's an imperial princess."
Joi said it plainly.
"A-an imperial princess?"
Taibeon's eyes went wide.
"An imperial princess means… she's the emperor's daughter?"
"No, his granddaughter. Hehe, if she were His Majesty's daughter, she'd be quite the matron by now."
Joi let out a bright little laugh and turned to look at the professor. A cold-featured woman with black hair stood there.
"Ah… right. But why did she leave the imperial family?"
There was no answer to Taibeon's question. Instead, Joi gave a wry smile and deflected.
"You there. Find your sparring partners."
Professor Vilhelmine called us to attention for slacking off.
"Matyos. Spar with me this time."
Taibeon raised his sword with a bold challenge.
I raised mine in turn and began sparring with him.
Clang! Clang.
My sword clashed with Taibeon's. He pushed against me with rough but solid strength.
I gave everything I had, but in the end I couldn't beat him.
Staying up all night had left me exhausted, but beyond that, I simply lacked the strength and technique. Taibeon outclassed me in every regard.
'Even using Ink Star, I couldn't win.'
The fundamental application of mana was to reinforce the body.
But my mana reserves were so thin I wouldn't be able to sustain it for even ten seconds.
"Huff, huff — good match, Matyos."
"You too. You're incredibly strong."
I glanced over and saw that Tiana and Joi's sparring was also winding down.
The two girls (?) were locked in a surprisingly even exchange.
As they say, a fight between underdogs is the most entertaining — the other students who'd finished their own matches had gathered in a circle to watch.
The fact that both combatants were rather lovely (?) didn't hurt either.
"Hah!"
"Hyah!"
Tiana's unsteady but earnest strike broke through Joi's sloppy defense.
Joi stumbled back, misjudged her footing, and went down on her own.
It was an impossibly natural fall. And as a bonus, her skirt fluttered just so, offering a glimpse of her underwear.
"Ohh…!"
The male students let out excited murmurs.
Poor fools.
"Ow… I lost. Hehe…"
"Are you alright, Joi? You're not hurt?"
"I'm fine! You're stronger than you look, though, Tiana."
"Oh— ah, haha. Am I?"
Tiana smiled with embarrassment and scratched the back of her head.
Joi stood up and dusted off her knees.
'…What incredible acting.'
It must have taken everything he had. With a fair bit of self-loathing mixed in, probably.
Knowing his true identity, I found the whole thing mentally exhausting.
Clang! Whoosh.
Just then, a practice sword came skidding to a stop near my feet.
Looking over, I saw that Yuri's sparring partner had dropped their weapon.
That was the third time now.
Next, a competitive male student stepped up to spar with Yuri in succession.
He didn't last a single exchange.
Yuri's rapier slipped through the cadet's attack and stopped just before his throat.
The male student swallowed hard.
"…I yield."
He conceded defeat and stepped away.
Yuri hadn't broken a single sweat.
With an expression like a porcelain doll, she swept her silver hair back.
The students murmured among themselves.
"She's absolutely insane…"
"She's the Sword Saint's disciple."
"How is a girl that good?"
"How should I know."
"You try challenging her."
"What are you on about. I'm not looking to humiliate myself."
Yuri stood motionless.
She swept her gaze across the students like a champion with her sword lowered, waiting for challengers.
They all looked away. No one wanted to earn embarrassment in a match where the outcome was obvious.
Step.
I stood before her.
"?"
Yuri tilted her head. Her silver hair, just barely grazing her shoulders, swayed gently.
Her expression said she didn't understand.
"You?"
That wasn't 'someone like you?' — it was a purely genuine question.
The gap in our abilities was the distance between heaven and earth.
On top of that, I was in the Mage Department. There was no reason I should be able to compete with her.
"Is that a problem?"
"No. Alright. Let's go."
Yuri nodded without hesitation.
Shame lasts a moment, but what you learn lasts forever. My swordsmanship didn't come close to her level — but I still wanted to face her.
She was the strongest first-year, and the future Sword Saint.
Sparring with her would be invaluable.
Rosuka's Epic contained not only his mana cultivation method, but his knowledge of swordsmanship as well.
—[My swordsmanship does not lend itself to systematic documentation. Therefore, rather than explaining my techniques in detail, I will describe the various insights I have come to feel.]
—[In any fight, the first strike is everything. Pour everything into that first attack. I will share with you my first strike. Rest the sword on your shoulder and lower your body. Then wait for the opening. When you see it, draw breath in — and as you exhale, launch forward and bring it down with speed and weight combined. I have felled many enemies with this technique. It will serve you well.]
I rested the longsword on my shoulder.
I leaned my body forward. I spread my legs wide, one in front of the other.
I narrowed my focus entirely to Yuri, as though I might charge at any moment.
'Huu.'
The moment I exhaled the breath held in my lungs, I kicked off the ground.
I swung the sword resting on my shoulder down at Yuri with all my strength.
Yuri was still.
She watched me with blinking eyes.
Her sword still hung loosely at her side.
Was my attack fast?
Was that why she couldn't react?
'I've won—!'
Thud!
I lost consciousness.