How to Survive at the Academy
chapter-204

Chapter 7: Attribution of Meaning

“This was the incident that occurred within the Barony of Flanchel.”

Yenika Faelover, seated opposite the campfire, wore an expression far from pleased. Unsure of what to say, she faced Belle with a look of consternation.

Seeing Yenika’s face, bell couldn’t help but regret sharing the story.

Though Belle claimed it was nothing, his personal history was unmistakably bleak.

Any other person might have lost the will to live after such a traumatic event.

Despite being born out of wedlock, baron Flanchel sacrificed himself to save his daughter, born of his own flesh and blood.

He managed to keep his daughter out of the clutches of avaricious nobles, but it cost him his life.

Such a tragic and pitiful tale understandably intimidated Yenika.

“I’m sorry, bell. I didn’t know it was such a story… I shouldn’t have pressed you to tell it…”

“There’s no need to apologize. Such stories are rather awkward to hear, and I don’t usually share them. And… it’s not a memory that has left me scarred.”

“Really? But… If I were in Belle’s shoes, I think it would have been a huge scar…”

“Well, it was indeed shocking at the time. But… as I mentioned, there’s a part I haven’t told Sir Ed, the part I purposely omitted.”

Belle added more wood to the campfire and used his magic to intensify the flame, ensuring it would last well into the night.

“You purposely left something out…? Why? Is it something you don’t want to tell Ed?”

“It would change the message of the story,” he said, observing Yenika’s quizzical look but offering no further explanation.

Belle had chosen to reveal his past to Ed in hopes of discouraging any future contemplation of suicide.

Life, he believed, would eventually shine brightly if one only kept living.

Survive. Even when the world offers no solace and only trials seem to crowd your vision.

Grit your teeth and steadfastly endure.

“Surviving and continuing on is important. But this doesn’t hold true for everyone.”

“Belle… what are you trying to say?”

“It’s not a grand revelation. Baron Flanchel was already suffering from a long-term illness. Even without taking his own life, he wouldn’t have had much time left.”

Yenika was at a loss for words upon hearing this.

That was the part that Belle refrained from telling Ed.

Baron Flanchel had been a man living on borrowed time.

In his final hour, he reflected on his life and made peace with the approach of death.

“When death is imminent, anyone would reflect on their life lived,” continued Belle.

“Baron Flanchel probably wanted to ascribe some meaning to his life.”

The revelation about the Baron’s lifespan alone drastically altered the perception of his death.

Yenika finally understood why Belle had not conveyed this particular aspect of the story to Ed.

And she grasped why Belle could narrate such a tragedy without sorrow—it wasn’t just a tale of sorrowful misfortune for Belle; it was an account of a noble departing with dignity, having carved his own legacy.

In Belle Mayar’s room, the dagger bearing the sable’s insignia was still displayed.

It was the dagger of House Flanchel, which his father, Valmid Flanchel, had handed him with a gentle smile on the day he departed.

Looking up at the sky after the story, it was thickly sown with stars like grains of salt.

“Abbot Austin committed suicide…?”

No one else was present to hear the whispers.

Yet, the concern that someone could accidentally overhear was enough to provoke anxiety in Persica. Meanwhile, Ed Rothtaylor appeared utterly unconcerned.

“How did you know that Abbot Austin was concealing an Ain race child?”

While praying, Ed Rothtaylor went straight for the jugular with his question, causing Crown Princess Persica and Tune to catch their breaths.

“What are you talking about?”

However, the rebuttal was smooth, with no signs of stammering or dismay.

“Do you have any connection with the Cutter Zellan? Without him, the secrets of the Cledric Monastery would remain unknown.”

“It seems you speak of things beyond your understanding.”

“It would be best to lay all the cards on the table. I’ve confirmed that there’s no one in the chapel.”

Ed Rothtaylor’s reputation had preceded him: an enigmatic and unerringly sharp man.

But Princess Persica had not expected him to strike at the heart of the matter at their very first

encounter, leaving her breathless.

“One thing is certain: you have found yourself trapped. Princess Persica.”

The reason why Lucy Mayrill remained passive, even when framed for murder: Princess Persica was backed into a corner long before then. Initially unaware of the details, it had all become clear now.

“The prayer meeting you attended—wasn’t it to appease Abbot Austin, using the hidden Ain child as leverage? To secure his formal support at the upcoming imperial conclave?”

Abbot Austin had treated the nuns of Cledric Monastery as his own daughters.

Even an Ain child would be no different.

“Keep it secret, and in return for overlooking it after securing the throne, press him to pledge his allegiance openly…”

The following plan did not unfold according to Princess Persica’s expectations.

With the sudden discovery of Abbot Austin as a corpse, all her schemes were reduced to nothing. This all happened shortly after the Princess’s visit to the Cledric Monastery.

“So, the persuasion didn’t go as smoothly as you’d hoped?”

“Should you continue to insult and deride me, I will not stand idly by. This isn’t the imperial court, but… I trust you know my authority is not to be weighed against the House of Rothtaylor.”

“I’m not here to mock your authority. I came for a negotiation.”

While praying, Ed Rothtaylor slowly opened his eyes.

Without betraying any hint of confusion, composure, or mockery, he simply spoke the truth.

Rumors had painted an incomplete picture of Ed Rothtaylor: far different from what Princess Persica had imagined.

Unflappable. Even in the face of the imperial authority of Princess Persica, which seemed to reach for the heavens.

“The whole situation suggests that Abbot Austin may have taken his life in response to your threats.”

“That’s speculative reasoning.”

“Perhaps. Long term, Abbot Austin would have remained under imperial control after you ascended to power.”

The Ain rebellion, which had nearly led to the assassination of the Emperor, continued to scar the hearts of the imperial citizens.

As long as Cledric Monastery harbored the Ain children in secrecy, they’d remain pawns at Princess Persica’s behest until her death.

Accepting Zellan’s request. This was but a personal lapse that had spiraled.

This wasn’t something Abbot Austin would have simply observed.

That’s why he chose…

“Surely you must have considered such a possibility, Your Highness?”

“Tune!”

– Slish!

Tune drew her blade, pressing it to Ed Rothtaylor’s throat.

The chilling atmosphere was sharper than the honed edge of the sword. Despite Tune holding it steadily, Ed remained unmoved.

“Princess Persica. I do not desire to resolve this situation with violence.”

As always, Ed Rothtaylor simply stated the facts.

“I am many times stronger than your knight.”

Without looking in Tune’s direction, but respectfully gazing at the religious icon, Ed Rothtaylor spoke calmly.

Tune was a renowned member of the Imperial Knights, a prodigy of swordsmanship since her youth.

Yet, Rothtaylor’s confidence was evident, not as an expression of cockiness but as a statement of fact.

“Otherwise, why would you so persistently endeavor to apprehend Lucy Mayrill?”

The agitation was faint in Princess Persica’s eyes.

“At least the sisters might not know, but you, having witnessed Lucy in the Rose Palace, are aware, aren’t you? Lucy Mayrill is not the kind of person to be apprehended easily. With a wave of her hand, she could shatter this monastery.”

Yet despite the futility, Princess Persica boldly ordered Lucy Mayrill’s arrest.

“When Lucy resists and reveals the truth, the abbot’s plans are dashed to nothing.”

The abbot’s strategy was simple.

To halt Persica’s plans to manipulate the monastery by committing suicide, using the Ain children as leverage.

Once gone, Persica’s motives would vanish as well.

The ramifications go beyond that.

Should the political pressure over Abbot Austin, a figure of veneration, seem caused by Persica, the backlash would be immense.

Immediately, the Telos Order would become hostile. The church followers within the empire and noble households baptized by the Telos clergy would turn away.

Even though Abbot Austin was a mere nun, she could not be slighted carelessly. It was Princess Persica herself who said so.

That very statement now bound her like chains.

Abbot Austin was already dead. The aged figure no longer graced the living world.

However, the decrepit old man’s hands still encircled her shoulders.

The chilling sensation of a skeletal embrace from behind—if she turned, it would be a robed skeleton pressing down on her.

“Abbot Austin would have wanted all of this kept secret. If the truth surfaced, the reality of the Ain children’s protection within the monastery would inevitably be exposed.”

What exactly Lucy and Abbot Austin discussed in life, remained unknown.

Yet Lucy knew all the truths, choosing silence.

Abbot Austin’s wish was straightforward.

“Maintain the status quo.”

To preserve the Ain children’s refuge in the monastery, rendering Persica politically powerless.

The stake was his life. And it landed a clean, decisive blow.

The truths behind Abbot Austin’s death must never surface.

This was beneficial for both the late abbot and Princess Persica. Unintentionally, they found themselves in the same boat, tightly bound together.

By the time she realized she was ensnared in the web cast by the departed, she was already sucked in waist-deep.

All Princess Persica could do was struggle to escape.

She remained silent.

“I, too, will feign ignorance of all these facts. Only the deity you’ve prayed to may know—if there is such a being.”

From the beginning, I said it: I have come here to negotiate.

“You hold sway over the Imperial Knight Order. Should I request it, deploy a portion of the Knights to Acken Island. Just once is enough. That is my demand.”

The commander of the Knight Order was within Persica’s circle.

Therefore, she indirectly possessed the authority to command the Knights.

The day Supreme Dragonlord Bellbrook descends, one way or another, it is essential that the Knights are stationed on Acken Island.

“Also, although it may not be feasible right now, I insist on Lucy Mayrill’s exoneration. These are my two requests. With them met, all the possibilities I’ve pondered today will be known only to that icon … if the icon has ears, of course.”

She could not suppress her adversary through sheer force.

Ed Rothtaylor had dominion over high spirits, calling upon even the mightiest among them should a contract permit.

In the confined walls of Cledric Monastery, there was none who could overcome him.

Still, Ed Rothtaylor was not one to solve every situation with brute strength.

Power was merely one means to an end, not the goal itself. It is for this reason he stands now, negotiating on equal footing with Princess Persica, despite the vast difference in station…

I remained perched on the dilapidated rooftop of the monastery, heedless of my clothes now dirtied with dust and debris. Slipping down the outer edges of the roof, I was greeted by a vertiginous view. The path stretching towards the estate of Count Byron was visible, beginning just beyond the coastline.

Turning to the other side, the expansive night sea unraveled before me. Most of it was enshrouded in darkness, a somewhat eerie sight, save for the coastline illuminated by campfires from the expedition teams stationed there.

It was a matter of time before those teams began their slow encroachment into the monastery with the tide.

Stars were clustered thickly above in the sky.

I hurled myself down towards the extended roofing, buffeted by the briny marine wind.

– Thud!

Landing and glancing back, an unexpected scene unfolded before me. I didn’t betray my surprise, but I found myself at a loss for words.

“… You’ve come.”

Sitting casually in the sea breeze, hugging her knees while stargazing, was Lucy Mayrill.

Behind her, under the eaves of a protruding spire, several sword hilts made of light were embedded like bars, a high-order light magic called Gleam of the Blade Savage, used to seal off specific areas or prevent passage.

And below that extended roof, trapped behind the swords of light, sat a girl, clutching her knees and crying. Her nun’s habit was in tatters, her hands smeared with blood. The sharp claws on her hands were exactly those of the Ain people, emerging during the full moon.

A beast’s ear trickled down from the temple of her head. She cried as though her heart was shattered.

─She was the Ain girl Aileen, who Merlin the Auxiliary Bishop said had escaped. Her abundance of golden hair, resembling fluffy cotton, and her slender white wrists spoke volumes.

“You’ve been protecting her, haven’t you?”

“Don’t say anything. She must be hurt. Occasionally, she’d transform like a wild beast and lunge at me, so I had to confine her.”

Tears stained her face, and her hands were coated with traces of blood.

What that meant… remained unsaid.

Looking inside the space behind the blades, there lay strewn bits of food. Lucy must have stolen them from the first floor dining hall of the main building and brought them to Aileen, most likely under the cover of late night. This insight clarified the rumors about the monastery’s ghost.

Half the story of the ghost wandering the monastery was Aileen, and the other half was Lucy.

Lucy had been protecting, perhaps even hiding Aileen. She had known the full truth from the start.

I looked up at the star-filled sky for a moment and then went to sit next to Lucy.

The coastal campfires and the stars pierced into the night sky entered my field of vision. Alongside the stars, the lights of campfires felt like floating lanterns.

“You could have at least shared the entire story with me.”

“There wasn’t enough time. I had to sort out many thoughts.”

“What’s been on your mind?”

“Just… Old Glast was… acquainted with that old woman… So things got quite complicated.”

Old Magus Glast, a friend from the past.

That was why Lucy had spent a long evening conversing with Abbot Austin, yielding insights quite different from what she had told Princess Persica.

The cause of Abbot Austin’s death was murder.

Her disclosure to Princess Persica was meant to stir the princess’s misconceptions and secure a political advantage. It was all part of a campaign against Bellbrook.

“So, can you finally explain what happened?”

Lucy, looking gloomily powerless, hugged her knees.

Turning away from the despondent girl, she simply gazed blankly into the night sea and the starry sky. The moon-kissed sea breeze, cool and refreshing, tousled Lucy’s neatly kept hair.

Along the coastline stretched a parade of campfire lights, and perhaps touched by this peaceful tableau, Lucy finally began to speak.

“The day before yesterday, I encountered that old woman here.”

*Lucy Mayrill found Abbot Austin bleeding out on the monastery rooftops on a similarly star-filled night.