How to Survive at the Academy
chapter-209

The Youngest Hopeful Retiree (4)

There were numerous trivial matters, but nevertheless, the academic schedule proceeded without any trouble. As always, I found myself juggling the wilderness life at camp and academia at the Academy. Perhaps because of this dual lifestyle, I felt twice as busy as others, and time seemed to fly twice as fast.

My daily routine was largely monotonous. I would get up early, check on the camp, prepare the food supplies, and chat with Lortelle, who always rose at dawn. Although I am quite an early riser myself, Lortelle would outdo me by waking up almost at the crack of dawn to head to the trading post. She had to go that early in order to check the delivery documents for items arriving at first light.

While sitting at the pavilion and sipping tea, Yenika would emerge in her pajamas, looking tousled but ready to make breakfast. She’d often prepare my meal as well, and during that time, I would finish up physically demanding tasks like chopping firewood or repairing tools.

After spending a brief morning together, Yenika and I would head to the third-year academic building. We shared most classes, so we usually spent a large part of the day together. Now, I also joined Professor Krayd’s Class A, meaning my advanced magic classes schedule completely overlapped with hers.

Although there were days when our classes differed, and we had separate activities planned outside the academic schedule, we often did our own separate things. Yenika usually had tasks related to the Spirit Research Society, and I often found myself pulled away when summoned due to my position as a top student. Whenever I visited Elte Trading Company to buy survival gear or materials to improve my skills, Yenika would puff her cheeks in apparent annoyance. It wasn’t the most comfortable feeling for me either, so I often found myself placating her.

Regardless, after finishing the academic duties and returning to camp, there still remained a mountain of chores. If left alone for just a day or two, the camp required maintenance. Most of these tasks needed delicate handiwork, so it was my responsibilities.

I would inspect the fishing nets, check the traps scattered through the forest, and organize the groceries obtained from acquaintances. While I took care of these tasks, Yenika would manage the campfire to prevent it from dying out, prepare dinner, do laundry, and clean up inside the camp.

By that time, Lortelle would often return and start handling paperwork in the villa, so it was common for the three of us to share meals together, though the atmosphere wasn’t always pleasant.

At night, I would tackle assignments from the Academy or do personal studies, or perhaps train to increase my stats. Lortelle would work on his paperwork, while Yenika might commune with the spirits at Merilda’s sacred tree, read, or also work on homework.

Then, when the moon was high, we’d all retreat to sleep. I’m usually the last one to bed.

In the silent hours of the night, I’d sit alone by the campfire, organizing my thoughts in the quiet serenity. Surrounded by the sounds of crickets and rustling leaves, I would plan the following day and contemplate future endeavors before quietly slipping into my cabin to sleep.

This routine continued for about a month. It was a mostly uneventful four weeks, and in retrospect, this uninterrupted regularity might have been the most precious time of all. That’s not to say there weren’t minor incidents and changes throughout this period.

But over the span of a month, there were only about three things worth noting.

“… Your perspective is intriguing but lacks solid basis. Not a single measurable figure presented, just one claim after another without real evidence. Even I can make such basic circular arguments…”

[“Presenting a viewpoint can be significant in itself. Look, this person discusses how the currency circulation shouldn’t be based solely on the cash flow in the market. It suggests that there’s actually more money out of sight than what’s visible. Quite an interesting take, don’t you think? If expanded upon, it could lead to more fascinating discussions.”]

The first noteworthy point was that Lucy spent an unusually large amount of time with Merilda. Merilda was the spirit who enjoyed sitting in a corner of the camp with a stack of books, humming to herself as she read. She preferred not to assume her wolf form, finding it hard to turn pages, and instead always sat as a girl with white hair tied back, smiling contently.

Lucy would flip through books alongside Merilda, seemingly eager to absorb as much knowledge as possible. Delighted with her new reading mate, Merilda would often start conversations with Lucy. From the sidelines, the subjects seemed quite complex, and I had no desire to intrude.

Still, Lucy was constantly sneaking up on me while I was busy with camp work or dangling her legs from a nearby tree. True nature doesn’t change easily.

However, there seemed to be a shift in her after our time at the monastery. It appeared she was seeking a more profound power than mere strength. Occasionally, as she sat alone atop a tall tree at dusk, gazing at the setting sun, I could sense she was undergoing an emotional transformation.

The second was Tanya.

“Hello, brother. I’m just borrowing the wardrobe for a bit.”

Tanya was often found curled up inside the wardrobe, a sight becoming familiar when student council work became too much for her. Despite the oddity, I understood her using it as a hideout. She wouldn’t last long in her room without being located, so she fled to the camp. It was almost pitiful.

But after repeated occurrences of being discovered in the wardrobe, she began to feel embarrassed and switched up her hiding spots. She’d be found under the bed, beneath the workbench on the second floor, or in the lumber storage corner—always somewhere dark and secluded.

Upon advising her to just settle down by the fire with dignity, her response was quite something.

“If I sit out in the open, I’ll get caught and taken away… or, well, you know. I’m comfortable here. It’s… like I’m gathering my thoughts.”

“…”

“And I’ve told you before. When I’m in a dark, serene space, it feels like… my mind clears up. It’s refreshing, like a weight lifted off my chest…!”

The only sibling I have is gradually fading into darkness—should I be concerned?

Probably not, as it’s just a brief escape, and well before sunset, Zix would come along to practically kidnap Tanya back to her duties.

Even as she’s carted off by Zix, Tanya’s expression seems resigned, suggesting she merely wanted a moment to cool off. Since Zix seems to know this, he doesn’t fuss and simply goes through the motions, time and time again.

Oh, the turbulent life of the student council—it almost brings a wistful sigh.

The third and most unexpected occurrence was the visit of a surprising individual.

“I’ve spent the last few weeks holed up in the library, searching for information on Grand Sage Sylvania Bellbrook.”

It was in the dead of night that she arrived.

Yenika had gone to bed, and I was tending to the fire when she showed up out of nowhere. Her name was Aila Triss.

The main lady from “Sylvania’s Failed Swordsman”, she was always at the protagonist Taely McLore’s side, supporting him. She would go on to greatly influence the conquering of Bellbrook, becoming one of the most significant academic figures in history, honoring and perpetuating Sylvania’s wishes better than anyone else.

“Senior Ed.”

This was our first meeting since the chaos at Elte Trading. After it all ended, I had immediately left for Cledric Monastery, so it was unlikely for our paths to cross again for a while.

Sitting across from me, Aila’s brown hair mingled with the firelight and took on an amber hue. She glanced at the flames before speaking.

“Can we… talk for a moment?”

The conversation we had that night was perhaps the most shocking of this peaceful month.

As the ending cutscene portrayed her, she became a Grand Sage recognized by the academy, continuing Sylvania’s legacy.

Grand Sage Aila Triss. I knew that someday she would receive that title and make her mark in the world as an academic. But the forthcoming words felt so unexpected they bordered on the absurd.

The nightfire flickered in the breeze, casting both our shadows in a swaying dance.

*― Bang!

And so began the academy’s earnest preparations for the grand Crestol Festival, exactly a month prior to the event. Modeled after the name of the most renowned regent in the empire’s history, this celebration was among the oldest in the country. It dated back to the era of Emperor Clorel the 1st, and befitting its history, the festival was grand.

In essence, Emperor Clorel toured various empire foundations, giving encouragement and attending festivities prepared by each domain or facility. As a joyous occasion, bustling activity was to be expected everywhere.

“This Crestol Festival is different in its importance compared to the one four years ago. It is a festival held during the transition of royal authority, and this time, Emperor Clorel will personally inspect each domain and facility.”

I ended up in the Combat Section’s training ground quite unintentionally. My day proceeded with no major changes until my route home diverged, leading me towards the camp.

I would usually cross the main academy building and enter the north road, following the trail into the northern forest. However, today I had to swing by the Triss wing for a scholarship renewal, so I took a detour and found myself at the outdoor training grounds of the Combat Section’s Class A.

“The fact that I’m slated for a match at such an important event means I’m not in a yielding mood.”

Tyke Elfellan, the top senior of the Combat Section.

His hair was almost shaven, giving him a sharp look. His muscular and hulking frame emanated an immense presence at a mere glance and would remind one of a bulky beast. His tanned skin looked incredibly tough, almost like steel.

Daily training had transcended Tyke beyond the realm of ordinary humans. The bandages wrapped around his hands were frayed and tattered. Even they seemed repeatedly replaced, with shreds littered all across the training ground.

Dummies meant for sandbag training were not designed to be tossed about on the floor like this. They were reinforced with protective spells to withstand student attacks. To have them torn out like uprooted trees and scattered across the ground was not their intended fate.

One punch with full force sent the air trembling, and one kick while screaming shook the earth. Even well-trained Combat Section students tremble in the presence of the top senior, Tyke Elfellan.

Facing such a force was like confronting a massive beast—only those who had done so could truly understand the feeling.

“I’ve heard plenty about how formidable you are. I witnessed it with my own eyes during the end-of-term exams. You must have reached where you are with agonizing efforts and a burning willpower. I truly respect your struggling spirit and resilient mindset.”

Our meeting was serendipitous.

I was simply passing by Tyke as he was training in the Combat Section’s ground, on the way to Triss hall.

Shirtless and drenched in sweat, Tyke stood firm, arms crossed, and greeted me.

He spoke with a solemn bow.

“However, I have my own circumstances. If we meet in the sparring ground, let’s ensure we do not dishonor each other with careless fighting. A duel is a noble law after all.”

“Of course, senior Dex.”

He was a senior about to graduate—one acknowledged for unparalleled prowess among the utmost ranks.

Not to mention, he was revered among the fourth year—all the more among magicians like Trissiana, who wielded high-level magic, and Dorothy, the alchemy head renowned for devising ‘Cutting Solution.’

Even they would give ground to Zix Elfellan, whose name carried immeasurable worth.

As dusk settled over the corner of the duel arena, we stood silently, face to face.

It was Zix Elfellan who first let out a chuckle, breaking the silence.

“Keke… No use being too serious. It wouldn’t do any good. But I couldn’t just let you go, knowing you’re the elder brother of our Guild President Tanya. I apologize for being abrupt, Ed Rothtaylor. Still, exchanging greetings is the right courtesy between individuals.”

“Not at all. I’ve heard my sister is greatly indebted to the Student Council.”

Indeed, as a leading figure among the students, a dauntless senior known to shatter stone walls with a fist and crush bones with a kick, even Dex was—formally, at least—one of Tanya Rothtaylor’s subordinates in the Student Council.

Though Tanya may often seem like a soulless girl, retreated into shadowy corners, she was a ruler of considerable standing in her own right.

“Still, I am somewhat concerned about President Tanya.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, she’s already struggling with heavy duties, and now with the festival preparation underway, her workload is bound to double. Honestly, I doubt a single person can handle that much.”

“Doesn’t the Student Council have numerous members?”

“Sure, but with so many decisions to be made and documents to be signed… The volume won’t decrease. Personally, I see a more fundamental issue,” Dex mused.

I looked at Dex quizzically, conveying my curiosity through gesture alone.

Dex had an insight into the workings of the Student Council, an elder student with a calm demeanor, despite his imposing appearance—he had a sense for intuitively grasping the root causes.

“What we lack is real administrative personnel. Action, measurement, and progress committees, they don’t need the type of experience or savvy that seasoned workers have. Most just need to follow orders.”

Dex began to tidy up the destroyed dummies as he spoke.

“However, there’s a severe shortage of administrative staff who can proactively manage their work following the established bureaucratic reporting system. It’s a chronic issue the council faces, regardless of the generation.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, no matter how educated and noble the students might be, practical administrative skills are rare to find. They might do their best, but maintaining a unified reporting system and sorting basic documents into categories—are not within everyone’s grasp.”

It’s a difficult reality but one we can’t expect too much from students to handle. With that bittersweet smile, Dex continued.

“The mountain of work is the result of a systematic breakdown in the handling process. If we had more systematic administrative comissioners, a lot of work stress would reduce. Zix is trying his best, but there are limits.”

“Aren’t there children of high-ranking bureaucrats among the students? Have you tried reaching out to them?”

“Do you realize how scarce and valuable students skilled in administrative work are? More often than not, the faculty hoards them. They wouldn’t pass them onto the Student Council.”

Those brought up in bureaucratic families, privy to the handling of official affairs, cling to their kin and don’t give them up easily.

For the Student Council, which had to form its cabinet rather late, this has always been a persistent headache.

“Hm…”

Lost in thought, scratching my chin, Dex looked at me with an amused smile.

“Why? Got someone in mind you can introduce?”

“I do have a few people in mind…”

“Forget it. The council has tried to reach out to just about everyone of note.”

“Hm…”

I brooded over this for a while before taking decisive action.

*

“What is all this… Ed…?”

Claire, the famous chief assistant of the professor’s research room.

Many students mistook her for nobility based on her aristocratic features and old silver hair, but in truth, she was a bona fide commoner.

Struggling for tuition, she managed by scholarships, and her meals were sometimes mere vegetable peelings, but she managed to maintain a poised and dignified appearance.

“It’s exactly as you see…”

“All of this… is for work reports…?”

Facing the towering stack of documents, Anis Heilan, with a twinge of awe, lost her words.

There was Tanya, awkwardly perched at the president’s desk, and Zix, quietly tending to his longsword in the corner.

Anis, glancing at the immense pile, stood speechless.

“Senior Anis, I never expected you to come all the way to Obel Hall after turning us down so many times.”

“Well, no… President Tanya… Actually, I came to turn you down… correctly, one last time…”

I had dragged Anis from Dex Hall a moment earlier.

She was attempting to budget her life on spinach at the student cafeteria when I suddenly grabbed her arm, mentioning that I needed a favor.

The council had been trying numerous times to incorporate her, but she firmly refused, prioritizing her scholarship status.

The face-to-face appeal might change her mind, as I knew from our long history of shared scholarship activity.

Anis Heilan, the chief assistant, tended to cave under pressure… Push now, think later…!

“But why… hasn’t the work been categorized, President…?”

“Well…?”

“Wouldn’t it be more efficient than this bulk process, if work was organized by category and day? Customs on Monday, protocol on Tuesday, student welfare on Wednesday… Like that…”

“…”

“If tasks could be predicted, it streamlines operation, right…?”

“…”

Tanya squirmed, avoiding the gaze.

In truth, she wasn’t in charge of such matters, her role was more akin to a driver outlining the direction of the organization, not an engineer fine-tuning every part.

“And… why are all the document approvals solely by the president?”

“Well… I am the final authority on all council matters…”

“While weighty matters like budget proposals and policy decisions require your review, trivial, daily issues like supply purchases or fund allocations could be closed out earlier with interim managers before reaching you… otherwise, how will you handle the workload…”

Gasping, Anis laid out the evident flaws. All her cutting points left Tanya breathless.

Leading an organization and managing its structure are entirely different concerns.

“Why am I even discussing this… Just habit I guess…”

“Senior Anis, where have you been all this time?”

With dewy eyes, Tanya grasped Anis’s hands firmly.

Seeing the commanding and well-known president in such a state shocked Anis, too, her forehead beading with anxiety.

“No, President Tanya, I… I can’t abandon my scholarship duties…”

“I’ll write you a recommendation in the name of the Guild President to the Gluckt Scholarship Foundation!”

“I’d rather stay affiliated with the academy, considering living expenses…”

“I can privately put aside funds from Rothtaylor for your expenses!”

“But isn’t switching affiliations for personal funds an unstable choice…!”

Anis’s words were accurate, but Tanya, without hesitation, dipped her quill and scribbled out a figure.

“This much…!”

“…”

“…”

Anis, suddenly looking my way, whispered.

“This isn’t an amount I can refuse…! What is this, Ed?”

“You’re not happy with the work laid at your feet?”

“No, no… I mean yes, but…”

The length of the figure Tanya wrote was disconcertingly large.

Anis gazed at the long ink line, visibly bewildered.

The next morning, Tanya, with a radiance to her face, stood at the Student Council’s podium.

There was an elastic ease to her, her smile gleaming as if surrounded by an oasis of blooming flowers.

The change from the undead shadow of President Tanya puzzled many.

Perhaps she had begun a romantic endeavor.

That speculation buzzed among the female students…

But the truth was more steeped in reality.

*Zix Elfellan entered his personal chamber in Ophelius Hall, handing his coat to the maid. The dormitory was lavish, spacious, and elegantly utilized.

Walking past the antique furniture and landscape paintings, he sank into a chair and heaved a deep sigh. The arduousness of training weighed on him, but there was no room for complacency.

He lifted his gaze.

Hanging on the wall was a portrait of Princess Sella, sent from his family home, the Elfellan manor—a veiled insistence by them to display it.

The Student Council, the royal family, the Elfellan household—all intertwining in a complex discord where Zix Elfellan’s sole focus remained clear: endless training.

Yet one cannot forever play the fool, knowing only of training.

Leaning back, he gazed at the ceiling.

The current fourth-year students of the Sylvania Academy held a notorious reputation as the worst generation, overshadowed by the myriad geniuses of other classes. They were dubbed “hard-working dullards,” a mixture of praise and derision.

It was a label that made Dex inadvertently laugh, not without truth.

He had clawed up from the bottom, a feat of relentless toil, the academies’ students knew the hardships too well – that was the respect earned by Zix Elfellan.

Eventually, Dex came to be known as the “King of the Dullards,” a sovereign risen to the pinnacle through sheer will, devoid of innate prowess.

Could that title be more ignominious? Yet, he showed no sign of offense.

As if enthroned, he sat back in the corner’s wooden chair, looking blankly up.

Princess Sella is coming.

The princess whom the Elfellan house venerates…

Sella Einyr Clorel will arrive at Sylvania.