How to Survive at the Academy
chapter-189

Chapter 12 Subjugation Campaign (?)

The red butterfly hairpin was gleaming softly as it caught the moonlight spilling through the stained-glass windows.

Not a magical device by any means, but the hairpin always lent an even more divine air to the noble appearance of Saint Clarice, enhancing her faithful visage.

Her lush white hair cascaded down her face, spread across the prayer stone prepared for the faithful.

The pure white that symbolized innocence was sublimely imbued in her hair and subtly tinted her modestly elegant saint’s attire.

“Ah, oh… Saint Clarice. I heard you were visiting our church, but I didn’t know you would be here at the cathedral. I-I apologize… Had you given us prior notice…”

It was still dawn, before the sun had risen.

The diligent choir aide who had opened the cathedral early nearly had his heart stop from the shock.

Any follower of the Telos Order would carry the honor of seeing her face just once in a lifetime, and that very Saint… was now sitting alone within the cathedral.

“Oh my. I apologize for being here without notice.”

Unlike when she was Kylie Ecknair, the carefree noble child, as Saint Clarice, she always bore a look of nobility.

The gap between these two personas was so vast it was hard to believe they were the same person.

“Oh, you did not attend the prayer meetings at the Cledric Monastery this summer.”

“The Holy King granted me convenience so that I could prioritize my academic schedule.”

“O-of course… Forgive my intrusion. I did not intend to disturb your prayers.”

“Is there a need to apologize? I’m the one who entered without permission.”

In truth, Clarice was just as flustered.

Intending to remove her enchanting pendant for a moment to pray in solitude, she hadn’t anticipated another worshiper entering during that brief time… and had to respond with a makeshift excuse.

“Is your sudden predawn prayer due to some change of heart? Or perhaps… something troubling you?”

The aide hesitated to ask, and then, feeling awkward again, bit his tongue.

“Ah, I-I am sorry. It was inappropriate of me to ask. Please forget I said anything… I’m just too flustered by the situation…”

“Don’t worry about it too much. We’re just about to start a new term, aren’t we?”

Clarice, with her soothing voice, calmed the student before clasping her hands together and closing her eyes once more.

“The thought of continuing life far from the Holy King’s building, here at Sylvania Academy, missing the great ceremonies of the Cledric Monastery… brings a curious sentiment.”

“Does it…?”

“That’s why I am praying to Lord Telos, hoping this term will proceed without major troubles.”

After sharing these thoughts, Clarice quietly bowed her head.

To the awe-struck aide, she felt unequivocally like the Saint honored by the Telos Order, causing him to back away breathlessly.

The image of the Saint praying to Telos alone in the cathedral felt like time had stopped in the chapel, compelling the choir student to resolve not to interfere.

As the student exited the cathedral, the sound echoed softly, but did not reach Clarice, lost in her quiet prayer.

The phrases used in prayers to the Deity always varied.

Day or night, sabbath or Advent, whether in the company of the Holy or with ordinary parishioners, during times of joy or sadness… each required a different phrase. Clarice had memorized every single phrase since her childhood.

However, the phrases she used in private prayers were always her own. After all, even as a representative of the Telos Order, there should be a degree of freedom to that extent.

Though her life at the academy was filled with trials and painful experiences, it always left Clarice elated.

Would she ever have such days again? It felt like a dream, full of first-time experiences and the emergence of someone with whom she had formed her life’s first meaningful connection.

But life could not always be joyful and fun. The experiences she had accumulated were a testament to that.

──Saint Clarice had witnessed, alongside Ed, the revival of the Sacred Dragon Bellbrook, the only girl to do so.

When it came to discussing Bellbrook, she was the only human who would believe Ed without reservation and understand the context of the story accurately.

Being such a significant existence to Ed, Clarice was not yet aware of it herself… she simply prayed that his future endeavors would unfold smoothly.

There would be difficult times. Certainly, there were tough challenges ahead.

Despite the many trials to come, Clarice prayed for the strength and courage to overcome them…

She softly recited her prayer.

– Oh God above who watches over us with tender care,

– Please grant us the strong will and firm courage to face the trials that lie ahead.

– Grant us the reason to remain calm and composed, even in the most unexpected situations.

How fierce must the competition be for even the merchants to relinquish potentially lucrative rights? Rachel, upon seeing the figure of Lortelle, had successfully predicted the situation to some extent. However, the conversation between Lortelle and Rachel is another matter. Negotiations between those at the forefront of the academy and the forefront of commerce… cannot be resolved solely through appeals to emotion.

As they face each other across the negotiation table, while pushed into a corner, Lortelle still manages a coquettish smile.

“Grant us the wisdom, even if things do not go according to plan, to set matters right again.”

Aila’s body begins to lose the sacred magical aura.

As Ed Rothtaylor suffers injuries and loses complete control over his magic… Only then does Aila come to her senses. She finds herself in a wooden shelter that had been blocked off. This place, once a favorite napping spot of Lucy Mayrill, is now layered with comfortable furs on the floor and makeshift leafy roofing overhead. With the entrance fully blocked, it’s too dark inside.

Aila, struggling to get up, hears the rain filling the interior so loudly that others’ voices are barely discernible, but it seems like commotion had just passed. Despite the darkness making it difficult to find the way out, Aila touches the walls, looking for an exit. She hears a crowd murmuring outside and, after fumbling for some time, eventually finds something resembling a door that she might be able to push open.

She struggles with the handle in the dark, but the door barely moves. However, feeling it give ever so slightly, Aila clutches the handle tightly and continues to push.

“… And then…”

Clarice’ prayer momentarily ceases. While she wishes for divine assistance in all foreseeable crises, the world is full of unexpected trials, far more than anyone can anticipate. It is the unpredictability of trials that makes them so. Knowing this all too well, Clarice closes her eyes briefly, then opens them and, with tight fists, speaks softly, “Grant us the courage to face even the most insurmountable trials without fear.”

Taely overcomes his terror. Even when facing seemingly hopeless challenges, there are those who refuse to stop fighting. They are the captains of sinking ships, the soldiers maintaining formation to protect the capital despite knowing defeat is imminent, workers repairing dams in the face of raging floods, and parents who shield their children from murderers even at gunpoint.

They all have one thing in common: there is something they must protect. This simple fact enables people to withstand fears that seem insurmountable and keep resisting to the very end.

Taely clutches Lucy’s small, blood-soaked hand. Though she only weighs half as much as he does, he’s unable to shake her off with all his might. Yet Taely grits his teeth and resists with all his will.

“Lortelle Keheln’s mansion is that way… Escort group, ready for entry!”

“Search primarily the underground space as received in intelligence! Move quickly, or we don’t know what trickery they’ll use…!”

Meanwhile, Princess Phoenia, pressing hard on Ed’s wounds, can hardly believe her ears. Tunne, senior training officer dispatched as a guard on Princess Persica’s orders, is planning to raid Lortelle’s villa amidst the chaos.

The escort’s numbers are limited – some were left behind due to formalities when entering Sylvania. Others were guarding the carriages, and due to the nature of the forest interior, not many could move at once. It was clear that dispersing their forces further wouldn’t benefit the situation.

“What are you talking about? Can’t you see that people are bleeding?”

Not only Ed but also Taely is badly injured. Taely’s accumulated wounds are a concern, but Ed’s bleeding is alarmingly severe right now, especially in this rain.

“The imperial command is clear. Move at once.”

“Princess Phoenia.”

“We’re on the brink of life and death. Do you not understand my words?”

Princess Phoenia, rising abruptly, glares at Tunne. A robust and reliable knightess with auburn hair flowing freely from beneath her helmet, her loyalty, however, does not lie with Princess Phoenia. She is close to the captain of the knights loyal to Princess Persica.

Even though dispatched under the guise of protecting Princess Phoenia, her true purpose is to carry out Princess Persica’s orders. Disobedience to imperial commands is a matter of extreme penalty.

Caught between the commands of Princess Persica and Princess Phoenia, the knightess closes her eyes tightly and speaks.

“Princess Phoenia.”

“Senior Training Officer Tunne, do not make me remember your name for the wrong reasons.”

“If we remain idle now, we may miss the culprit’s trail…”

Tunne is cut off as his head snaps back in surprise. Princess Phoenia Elias Clorel, the princess of mercy. Even the lowest born were embraced and acknowledged by her. This was her nickname because during her time at the Rose Palace, she judged people solely on their capabilities and character. From the royal janitors to third-rate assistants in the royal kitchen and new maids, her natural inclination was to embrace everyone equally in that sinister world of cunning and intrigue. Surely, such a person must exist among royalty, as the servants’ evaluations and rumors suggested.

That very princess, usually so forgiving, now struck a subordinate across the face – an extraordinary sight in the middle of such a large audience. While a slap might not be hugely powerful, it is enough to leave her pale hand even redder.

Yet, as she glares fiercely at Tunne through the rain with narrowed eyes, her gaze remains steadfast. A raindrop follows her jawline, hanging on by a thread until Princess Phoenia finally speaks.

“Please… keep within the lines.”

“…”

“Someone… has fallen, wounded by a sword.”

Princess Phoenia is aware of the dangerous situations Ed has faced throughout his life. The painful truth is that she herself has been the greatest burden and barrier in Ed’s struggle to live. She who first expelled him, stood at the opposing end at vital crossroads, constantly subjected him to blame, doubt, disdain, suffering, and pain – this root of these trials often pointed back to Princess Phoenia.

Despite all the pain in his life, the man has never given up on his will to live. And it was none other than Princess Phoenia who always faced him from the opposite side. However, there is one undeniable truth that no one can refute: Ed Rothtaylor has never blamed Princess Phoenia, not even once. Though sometimes indifferent or dismissive, Ed never blamed his circumstances on others and never despaired.

Tunne finds himself facing Princess Phoenia once again, gasping at what he sees—it’s not just rain running down her chin. Sighing quietly, she tries to maintain a strong façade, yet the pain of a vulnerable young girl of her age is evident.

“If we do nothing… he’ll die… how dear is the life that has been preserved…”

It’s all too easy to forget a simple fact because of that distant lineage and authority. No matter how noble her birth, dazzling in radiant gowns within the magnificent Rose Palace, attending glittering banquets, traveling in carriages as large as a commoner’s house, looking down upon the world, commanding armies with a mere gesture – beneath it all, she’s just a young girl, half-grown.

The thought strikes Tunne like a spear. He realizes something starkly opposed to the imposing airs of royalty he’s witnessed for years—the royals are human too. This blatantly obvious fact suddenly feels like a shocking twist.

“I’ll assign personnel towards the Academy wing.”

Tunne speaks in a trembling voice.

“Training Officer Tunne! If not now…!”

As an aide begins to speak, tunne raises his hand to stop him. Then, seeing Princess Phoenia pressing her hand against Ed’s wound, tunne hesitates before saying, “For now, we follow Princess Phoenia’s command.”

“But if we do that…!”

“We can still capture Lortelle Keheln. We simply prioritize dealing with the situation at hand.”

With that, tunne gathers the soldiers.

Summoning medical personnel isn’t difficult. However, the challenge remains with Lucy Mayrill, who holds Taely’s fate in her grasp. She’s a girl with formidable powers that could end everything in an instant. A boy who could perhaps stop her now lies unconscious, bleeding.

And so, as unleashed magical energy shrouds the sky… ─ The tale comes to an end.

– Amen

Having finished her final prayer, Clarice lifts her head. Past the stained glass, the night’s darkness had given way to morning’s light, with a breeze hinting at a clearing in the thick red clouds.

It’s an in-between moment, not quite morning or night. Feeling the fresh air of dawn, Clarice nods her head, stretches to relieve a stiff body, and just as she intends to leave the chapel, she stumbles over a wooden seat, letting out a sigh. Clutching her necklace, she steps out while suppressing the pain in her toe. Holding back tears, she again adopts the composed countenance of a holy woman and steps outside, taking a short, deep breath.

The early morning air entering her lungs is refreshing. By now, it could well be called the morning air.