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An Otherworldly Scholar - 125
🕑 Added 2024-05-12 01:55:03 +0000 UTCThe mood in the VIP box was tense. Lord Gairon’s team had suffered at the hands of the Imperial Academy team. Even the theoretically unfavorable matchups ended up with the cadets winning. By the end of the bracket, the cadets had won the four combats and were more than twenty points ahead of their rivals. Prince Adrien drank from his cup with a neutral expression. I didn’t get why he wasn’t happier with the result. If Prince Adrien wanted to project a strong armed force with serious odds of completing the Farlands Campaign, he was doing a great job.
The skills of the Imperial Cadets weren’t good news for us.
“This is bad,” I muttered.
“Aren’t we on the same team?” Elincia whispered back.
“The Marquis promised me to make me a noble if we won the tournament.”
“Oh.”
The Marquis had deceived me. I was confident in my kids' skills, but the cadets were on a completely different level; even the worst professional players were better than the best amateurs. When the Marquis offered me the deal, he must’ve known about the cadet’s team. He never intended to make me a noble; he just used that offer to gain my trust.
I swallowed my rage as Sir Janus’ suspicions echoed louder in my ears. The Marquis wasn’t trustworthy. I needed to take the initiative and find protection elsewhere, but the orphanage had little to offer in its current state. There were several high-level alchemists in the kingdom, my ideas for crafting required lots of development still, and I wasn’t going to reveal my Runeweaving skills to the world.
My only available card was my skill as a teacher.
“May I ask a question, Your Majesty?” I asked. Prince Adrien nodded. “If the royal family is aware of the ‘cultivation’ method, why hasn't it become widespread?”
“Diminishing returns,” Prince Adrien replied without skipping a beat. “This method works only on people with a certain mindset and becomes less effective as time passes. The Harpy Cadet will have a great advantage against rivals of similar levels due to her Lv.5 [Spear Mastery]. However, it’s harder to make the jump between Lv.5 and Lv.6 than starting at Lv.1 and reaching Lv.5. In ten or fifteen years, the Harpy will be a Lv.40 Sentinel with Lv.6 [Spear Mastery], and Esteffen Gairon will be Lv. 40 Knight with Lv.5 [Swordsmanship]. By then, the difference in passives will be either negligible or covered by a movement or control skill.”
I understood. The same ‘problem’ applied to life back on Earth, if it could be called a problem at all. Progress wasn’t linear; there were bumps, roadblocks, and breakthroughs. It usually went fast at first, just to slow down. The higher a person's skill level, the more challenging it was to keep improving.
Prince Adrien pointed with his cup at the pavilion. “In the long run, the result will be almost the same. Most of the kids you see down there will reach high levels and their respective soft caps, even if they take half a decade more. Noble families will spend fortunes on enchanted items to help their heirs level up. We spend money searching for the best candidates.”
“This is a game of efficiency, then?”
I recalled big sports teams buying smaller ones just to have a wider range of scouts. As unexpected as it was, it seemed that looking for the next wonderkid was a thing in this world, too.
“Efficiency is part of our vision. Imperial Knights are ahead of the wave in terms of levels and skills, even if the System slows them down as they reach greater heights. They are better warriors sooner in their lives. But that’s not all. The Imperial Academy is also a sieve,” Prince Adrien explained. “Did you know you can harvest iron from a river?”
I nodded. “Yes, I have seen people making tools from iron sand.”
I didn’t mention I saw it in a video on the Internet.
“The Academy serves to separate the iron from the mud, but, on rare occasions, we find something even more valuable. A small gold nugget,” Prince Adrien said, flicking his silver and golden cup with his finger and producing a clean sound. “There are different kinds of geniuses in the world, Robert. One of these gold nuggets is worth a hundredweight of iron sand. The rules of the System do not bind them so easily. They can reach heights the rest can only dream of. I’m talking about level sixty and beyond.”
I had to agree with the Prince. Occasionally, among the sea of great scientists, artists, and athletes, one who broke the mold and challenged the fabric of our scientific or artistic understanding appeared. However, my work as a teacher wasn’t centered on finding these elusive geniuses but on taking every kid, no matter their background, and bringing out the best in them.
No good teacher would ever see their students in terms of mud and iron, yet an idea popped into my mind.
“Would you believe me if I say I can turn mud into iron?” I said. It felt terrible in my mouth to compare kids to mud, but to secure the future of the orphanage; I’d rather be persuasive than ethically correct.
Prince Adrien shifted his focus to me, suddenly interested in the conversation. With a hand movement, the prince called his sommelier and whispered something to his ear. A moment later, I saw magic surging from the old man’s chest, and I felt as if the air pressure changed.
“That would muffle your conversation just enough not to draw attention, Sir and Madam,” the old sommelier said before returning to the background.
Prince Adrien grinned.
“Turning mud into iron would be an interesting idea. Mud is plenty and useless, but a cart of iron is more valuable than a single gold nugget,” Prince Adrien said. “If we can produce iron, the kingdom would benefit greatly.”
I took that as my cue to explain myself.
“Mister Lowell, the orphanage's founder, believed such transformation could be done, and I commune with the same idea. The commoner schools in my country are not meant to find geniuses but to help with every student's personal development,” I explained, channeling my mana and projecting a small illusion of my old school.
Hundreds, if not thousands, of kids walked through the corridors, jumping from classroom to classroom. The band was playing in the auditorium, the sports teams were practicing in the field, the student newspaper was having an editorial reunion, and the art club was painting with watercolors. I tried to condense everything into a single snapshot.
Prince Adrien blinked in disbelief. Illusions were a great way to catch people off guard, but in the end, it was all a mirage, and Prince Adrien wasn’t a bumpkin I could convince with mere fantasies from my mind. I needed solid proof that my methods worked.
“Preceptor Holst previously trained the kids of the orphanage, yet he excluded Ilya from practice sessions because of her physique and believed Zaon would be a Soldier at most,” I said, measuring my words. “I’m not saying Preceptor Holst’s assessment was wrong. I’m saying that in six months, I turned a potential Mender and a Soldier into this. Imagine what I could do in four years.”
Or at least I helped them to reach their current skill.
Prince Adrien closed his eyes as if he were making mental calculations. “I am inclined to believe you, Robert, yet it sounds too good to be true. History has proven that we can’t escape from the System designs.”
Before I could add anything else to my defense, Prince Adrien called the sommelier and whispered something to his ear. Then, the man entered the arena and exchanged a word with the Master of Ceremonies, who walked fast into the participants’ pavilion.
“Wouldn’t you mind if I ask Preceptor Holst some questions to verify your story?” Prince Adrien asked.
Blood turned into ice crystals inside my veins. Elincia, who had been silently listening to our conversation, buried her nails into my arm. This was terrible news. Nobody wanted to admit their mistakes in front of their superiors. Holst could say we were wrong, that he saw Zaon and Ilya’s potential from the beginning, and whether I liked it or not, he had way more credibility than Elincia and me combined.
“Did you want to see me, Your Highness?” Holst greeted with a deep bow.
Prince Adrien jumped directly to the matter. “Did you teach at the Lowell’s orphanage before becoming a Preceptor for the Imperial Academy?”
Holst looked at me and raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, Your Highness,” he replied. “I taught at the local orphanage for a year or so.”
“Did you teach the kids participating today in the tournament?”
“Yes, I did,” Holst replied, giving me a knowing glance.
“What was your assessment of their abilities by the time you left Farcrest?”
Elinica squeezed my arm, and I felt an iron ball where my stomach was supposed to be. Prince Adrien viewed me positively, but that could change if he believed I lied to take advantage of him. I shuddered at the imagination of the consequences.
Holst remained unfazed.
“Firana Aias showed great potential and eagerness to progress, a good candidate for the Imperial Academy if her obligations as the head of her family wouldn’t prevent her from assisting,” Holst said with a calm, almost robotic, voice. “I deemed Ilya unfit to partake in my lessons, and I predicted she would become a lowly Class such as a Mender or a Farmer. Similarly, Zaon didn’t show the ability, potential, or character to become anything other than a Soldier or an Archer. Although naturally strong, Wolf seemed too prone to participate in his orcish heritage. Like many other half-orcs, he will reject the System and return to the tribes. That was my appraisal as I left the city by the end of summer.”
If Holst had appeared dressed as a cheerleader, it wouldn’t have surprised me as much as his words.
“Are you aware one of the skills required to become a Preceptor is to measure the aptitude of potential cadets?” Prince Adrien asked, drilling him with his dark brown eyes.
“I’m aware that’s part of the job description,” Holst calmly replied. “I don’t think I was wrong with my assessment. Zaon was painfully ordinary, and the gnome lacked any redeeming qualities to become a potential Imperial Cadet.”
The sheer effort it took me to accept what my ears heard almost made my brain implode.
“Are you aware Zaon dominated his match despite being classless, and Ilya won against a rival twice her weight, right?” Prince Adrien asked. “This is a major oversight.”
It didn’t go unnoticed to me that Prince Adrien seemed to suspect Holst despite his position within the Imperial Academy.
“With all due respect, Your Highness. You asked me about my assessment by the time I left the city, and my assessment was that. Other than Firana, the orphans were as unremarkable as any other urchin from the frontier,” Holst said with a self-sufficient tone. “If you want my current assessment, I’d say Firana and Zaon are serious candidates for the Imperial Academy. I’d also advise the Marquis to integrate Ilya and Wolf to the Sentinels as soon as possible.”
Silence fell upon us. Elincia’s nails hurt my arm even through the padded fabric of the fencing uniform.
“Thanks for your input, Preceptor Holst,” Prince Adrien said, dismissing him with a hand movement.
Holst bowed and turned around without saying anything else. An instant later, Elincia whispered something to my ear; however, my mind was in a rush. Another piece of the puzzle fell into place. Holst risked his position in the Imperial Academy, in front of no other than the crowned prince, without batting an eye. It would’ve been easier to lie and say he played an essential role in educating the kids, but he didn’t.
Holst might be an awful teacher and a worse human being, but he wasn’t a liar, which opened up interesting possibilities. If there was a way around the Silence Hex, I could get the truth about the attacks on the orphanage out of Holst. That information alone wouldn’t save us, but maybe if I managed to get the Prince’s support, I would have enough leverage to get justice.
“Noble families usually offer me expensive gifts and outlandish feasts. On the other hand, you first offered me a man who can turn antidotes into deadly poisons, and now you offer me a method to turn mud into iron,” Prince Adrien smiled, signaling the sommelier to refill his cup. He took a long sip and seemed to enjoy the taste for the first time in the day. “You are a strange man, Robert Clarke.”
I feared Prince Adrien was getting an incorrect reading of my offering. There wasn’t a one-size-fits-all approach to education. No school was perfect, and researchers still devoted their lives to discovering and developing the best educational practices.
“I must point out that my methods have limitations, Your Highness. My current group has worked well under my guidance because of the discipline Mister Lowell and Elincia had been inculcating in the kids,” I pointed out as the silence extended.
“I understand. Imperial Cadets don’t graduate overnight either, and many don’t make it to the end,” Prince Adrien replied, pointing at the cadets resting in the pavilion.
I nodded, relieved. Nobility wasn’t particularly known for their patience, but Prince Adrien seemed to understand that certain processes took time. I couldn’t help but smile. I had met parents and government workers a hundred times more overbearing than him, and without a drop of royal blood despite what they liked to believe.
“I’m comfortable teaching four classes of up to thirty kids each, but the orphanage would need renovations to sustain that amount of students…” I started saying, but the Prince shook his head and stopped me.
“That’s too much,” he said, lowering his voice. “Each year, the Imperial Academy accepts between thirty and fifty students depending on the quality of the applicants. Even if ten of your kids are accepted each year, it would create a ripple that other nobles could trace back to you. People will ask why so many students come from the same Fencing Academy, and you’ll be in the eye of the hurricane.”
I didn’t want to put the orphanage in that situation. Announcing there was a gold mine in your house's backyard wasn’t a particularly brilliant move. After my conversation with Sir Janus, my trust for nobles was tunneling into the floor, but the Prince understood something basic that many others ignored. The outcome of a game was more profitable in the long run when both parties benefited.
“I'd rather keep the orphanage away from politics,” I said.
“Good. I will announce that the royal family will become the patrons of the orphanage, which will come with a small salary for you and Elincia. Nobles always do this to gain popularity among commoners so nobody will suspect anything,” the Prince smiled.
The money wasn’t the important part. A royal sponsorship would keep anyone lesser than a duke from harming the orphanage.
“What should I do in return?” I asked.
“Don’t take a hundred apprentices until I figure a way to ‘cadet’ launder your students into the Academy without alerting the big houses. Even if the System leverages the terrain in the long run, Imperial Knights always have an edge,” Prince Adrien said as the Master of Ceremonies announced the end of the first day of combat. “When I come up with something, we will escalate your school into what you show me with your illusions. Of course, the benefits will be shared accordingly. Do we have a deal? Robert? Elincia?”
Elincia fought to find the words. I could feel her sweaty hands and her face blush with excitement. Imperial Knight was the highest rank a commoner could achieve in the Kingdom of Ebros. Sir Janus could even smack the ass of a baronet with his sword without legal repercussions.
“Your Majesty is too kind. I accept the deal,” Elincia said with a bow.
Prince Adrien looked at me, but I couldn’t accept it yet.
“I have one last requirement.”
Elincia instantly slapped my shoulder, but I ignored her.
“I will not force any of my students to get a Combatant Class, nor should I force them to apply for the exams,” I said.
Prince Adrien rose from his throne, glaring at me. I could almost see an immense storm of mana brewing in his chest. However, the vision lasted only a second. My throat was dry.
“Do you think anyone will refuse to become an Imperial Knight?” He asked with his usual nonchalant tone. Between living under the thumb of nobility and being a free citizen, there was hardly a choice.
“I do believe becoming an Imperial Knight will ensure a good future for my kids, but I will not force them to choose that route,” I said. “If they want to become a Scholar like me, I will allow it.”
Prince Adrien stifled a laugh.
“Then we have a deal, Robert Clarke.”
Comments
I Dare Korval
Well good, Robert really shouldn't become a noble. The moment he does, he has to follow higher ranked people's orders like it or not. Being an outsider gives him freedoms he will need. But a very smart move to shoot as high as he can in getting the prince to sponser the orphanage. I am curious if his kids will face off against the imperial cadets in the end, maybe even with Zoan having his class (and possibly Wolf too?). While they may not win, I believe they would make the cadets work for it. But lets be honest, the orphanage kids have only had 6 months of real training (the time with Holst cannot even be considered).
