Joint Combat Training 2 (2)
“Greetings, Lady Clarice, the saint. I am Bell Maiya, the head maid who will be assisting you with your preparations today.”
Bell Maiya rarely takes part in practical frontline duties.
Although her competence in practical matters had been well-proven since her days as a senior maid, she has devoted much of her time to administrative duties since ascending to the position of head maid.
There are not many individuals of such noble status that Bell Maiya, herself now quite valuable, would personally attend to. Even within the Ophelis Hall, filled with esteemed guests, there is only one head maid.
Normally, even a saint would receive service from a verified senior maid. The head maid would not make outings for such tasks.
However, today was an extraordinarily unusual day, necessitating Bell’s personal intervention.
“It’s already that time.”
“I will help you with your hair.”
The saint occupying the top-floor private quarters of Ophelis Hall was a fake.
A decoy wrapped in layers of magic had been set up to guard against possible conspiracies and to fulfill the real saint’s wish to move more freely around the school.
But today was the day of important visitors.
The Holy Emperor Eldain and his close confidant, Archbishop Verdieu.
They were the pinnacle of the Telos Order, whom Saint Clarice sincerely admired.
It was impossible to send out a proxy on the day of their visit. It was necessary for Saint Clarice herself to greet them in person.
Of course, it was unlikely that Eldain and Verdieu were unaware of the decoy, but it would have been discourteous, regardless of the circumstances, to meet such exalted guests with a substitute.
Therefore, it was time for the minor noble of the frontier, Kyril Ekne, to temporarily disappear.
The decoy would be sent to a discreet location, and it was time for Saint Clarice to take her place.
“Thank you.”
The girl revealed a soft smile as she sat in front of the luxurious vanity for her preparation.
Only a few were aware of her dual identity and attending the academy as a substitute: Principal Obel, the three major deans, and Bell Maiya, who practically managed her living environment.
Today, the real saint would visit, and involving a senior maid might risk exposing any oddities.
Therefore, Bell Maiya, who was well-informed of the saint’s status, had personally come to assist with the preparations.
window.pubfuturetag = window.pubfuturetag || [];window.pubfuturetag.push({unit: "64ce79d606107d003c23ea27", id: "pf-5140-1"})Yet, Bell felt that her worries were unfounded.
Gone was the wide-eyed and innocent Kyril Ekne with the chestnut hair, curious and excited by everything…
Instead, seated before the mirror was the saint with cold, white hair and crimson eyes.
There was an air of dignity, so profoundly different from the substitute, that one might doubt they were the same person.
Clarice was a girl who had grown up under the adoration of the faithful, living her life within the Order.
The carefree appearance of Kyril, when relieved of the burden of her duties, was enveloped by the dignity befitting a saint once she assumed her rightful place.
Bell, recalling Kyril’s excited clapping and shining eyes, marveled at how Clarice could feel like a completely different person.
“Lady Bell.”
“Yes, Saint Clarice.”
As Bell carefully brushed the smooth, white locks, she responded cautiously.
“It was supposed to be the day of the joint combat training, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, unfortunately, it coincides with the Holy Emperor’s visit which made it difficult for you to attend.”
“…”
Clarice expressed silent disappointment.
She had been struggling to keep up with her studies and had no time to socialize with her seniors.
Although she wasn’t particularly interested in inter-year interactions, she had hoped to meet the second-year student, Adel Ceris.
The joint combat training would have been the perfect opportunity, but due to unfortunate timing, Clarice had to miss out on the practice.
But with her status, she couldn’t neglect meeting with the Holy Emperor, an unavoidable reality.
In truth, Clarice didn’t see much value in something like joint combat training under the current circumstances.
The fact that the Holy Emperor and the Archbishop were visiting during this time held significant implications.
Clarice regarded it almost as a special inspection. Given that both men had always been exceedingly concerned with every aspect of the saint’s life, they were likely intending to check on how well she was managing with her school life, if the environment was adequate, and whether she had encountered any dangers.
Frankly, she doubted her assurance.
Was the school environment safe? It hadn’t been long since it had experienced several upheavals even before Clarice’s admission.
window.pubfuturetag = window.pubfuturetag || [];window.pubfuturetag.push({unit: "64cc9e79c7059f003e4ad4b0", id: "pf-5109-1"})Last year, one student attempted to conquer the Student Council building and summon a high-ranking dark spirit, while a professor was caught fleeing with a valuable relic of the academy.
Since Clarice’s arrival, the school had been disrupted by an attack led by a disgraced noble involved in a murder case—it had been quite tumultuous.
Still, Clarice had not been directly involved, so it wasn’t particularly dangerous, but it did attract a lot of gossip.
Furthermore, Clarice had made a promise to Archbishop Verdieu before leaving the Holy City.
As Kyril Ekne, attending school, should her real identity be discovered or revealed to the public, she would have to give up her life as a student.
Her admission to Silvenia was partially coerced, so she had to accept these conditions.
“…”
The past few months at the academy had been a freedom-filled dream for Clarice.
There were hard and scary times, but it was distinctly different from her cloistered life of constant prayer at the top of the Holy City.
Clarice was not yet ready to return to the Holy City. To avoid that, she needed to smoothly handle the Holy Emperor’s visit.
Rather than rashly display bravado, it was a time to stay quiet and patient. Although she yearned to participate in the joint combat training, Clarice held back, knowing that chances to meet Adel would come again.
“It’s okay to relax your mind, Saint Clarice.”
“Does it show that much that I’m nervous?”
Seeing the flicker at the tip of her long lashes, Bell gently reassured her.
“I’m just excited to see the Holy Emperor and the Archbishop after such a long time. I want to make a good impression and really show them that I’m doing well. That’s probably why I’m so nervous.”
“It seems you’re enjoying your school life.”
“Yes. I want to stay in this Silvenia until I graduate. Just that thought… makes me even more nervous.”
Bell had no particular way to alleviate her nerves. Merely hoping that Clarice could calm her mind was all she could do.
With a stroke of the comb through her beautiful hair, Bell remained silent. When nerves take hold, everyone has a different way to relax.
Clarice seemed to sense Bell’s mood and quietly acquiesced to her hands.
As she was being made up, Clarice hoped for no unexpected complications.
Apart from external events, there seemed to be no factors to worry about. The disparity between her role as Kyril and as Saint Clarice was immense, and it seemed unlikely anyone would quickly realize the truth…
“…”
window.pubfuturetag = window.pubfuturetag || [];window.pubfuturetag.push({unit: "663633fa8ebf7442f0652b33", id: "pf-8817-1"})Suddenly, an individual came to mind for Clarice.
Possibly the sole variable within the academy. The only student who knew the true identity of Saint Clarice.
A senior student living alone in a cabin in the woods, surviving on his own, named Ed.
He wasn’t a significant variable, really. He appeared tight-lipped by nature.
Despite being the first to notice the true identity of the saint, he seemed to have told no one. Had such a rumor started, it would have spread throughout the academy in no time.
Still… Clarice began to feel an unwarranted anxiety.
Her mentor, Archbishop Verdieu, had a mastery of mind-reading. It was unclear how he did it, but often he could penetrate thoughts and imaginings that were only held internally.
However, it had never worked on Clarice… Most likely some form of holy art, which didn’t affect saints.
It seemed unlikely, but if Ed were to come into contact with Archbishop Verdieu, it could spell disaster. He would reveal that another knows the saint’s identity.
‘I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of this sooner…!’
It shouldn’t be easy for Ed, a survivalist in the woods, to meet the Archbishop from the Holy City. The probability was very slim. That was why she hadn’t worried about it until now.
Yet now that she was, the thought was unsettling. The Archbishop might mingle with students during his visit, officiate baptisms, give speeches… It seemed increasingly possible that he could encounter Ed.
With those thoughts, a tremor ran through Clarice’s fingertips. Should she take measures in advance? Perhaps giving a prior warning would ease her mind.
If only she could inform Ed of the current situation and ask him to avoid the cathedral and its events, then she could relax for the moment.
Until then, she couldn’t help feeling anxious. Her eyelids twitched nervously. If even a small slip gave everything away, her enjoyable life at the academy would come to an end.
“…”
Bell Maiya heaved a deep sigh upon observing this.
Clarice seemed more nervous than expected. Bell had imagined that someone of saintly stature would meet the Holy Emperor and Archbishop as a matter of routine, but perhaps it wasn’t so simple.
Of course, Bell’s thinking was off. Clarice’s reasons for nervousness ran deeper.
“Well then… perhaps a calming cup of tea would help?”
“No, I’m okay… but… I have a request. Could you please prepare for an outing?”
Clarice exhaled deeply and, with a flushed face, spoke to Bell.
“Ed. Ed Rothstaylor. Seeing him might help me calm down…”
“…Pardon?”
Bell was momentarily breathless at the mention of that name.
It caused her mind to become cluttered with a web of relationships, where there was hardly room for additional complications.
“I would like to see him… as soon as possible… as quickly as you can…”
“But… considering the timing and availability…”
“The Holy Emperor’s visit isn’t until the afternoon, right? We still have plenty of morning left, so there’s enough time…”
Bell, for reasons unknown, was reluctant to arrange a meeting between Ed and the saint. Not that she had any power to prevent it.
“Is that so…”
She responded, uncharacteristically sweating profusely.
* * *
The residents of the Holy City described it as a palace on wheels, referring to the Holy Emperor’s carriage.
The carriage, always accompanied by a grand escort, contained five rooms—practically equivalent to a moving house.
The sorcerers of the Holy City had to work overnight casting weight reduction spells on it; otherwise, scores of horses wouldn’t have been able to pull it.
So magnificent it was that even crossing the wide bridge overseen by Meccese Commerce required careful planning. Its presence, along with the mounted guards before and behind, almost created the illusion of an army on the move.
Within that grand carriage of the Holy Emperor, two men sat facing each other in the top seat.
One, draped in opulent holy robes and radiating sharp, intelligent eyes, was the aged Holy Emperor Eldain. The other, wearing neatly tailored holy garments and clutching a pile of documents, was Archbishop Verdieu.
Both were devout followers who had dedicated their lives to the Telos Order, revered by all clerics of the Holy City as respected elders.
These two men generally stayed in the Holy City as their mere movements required a significant amount of people and resources. Their visit to such a distant location was practical only due to a prearranged agenda in the territory of Count Berce.
“The distance is much farther than I expected. If it hadn’t been for the agenda in Count Berce’s land, coming all the way here to check on the saint’s condition would have been unrealistic.”
“Indeed. It’s fortunate that our paths aligned.”
Archbishop Verdieu’s comments were met with a light response from the Holy Emperor, who observed the scenic plains outside the window and the impressive bridge spanning the distant sea. It was only a matter of an hour or two until they would reach their destination.
“Fortuitously, the collaboration with Count Verche has concluded well, relieving us all. The expedition has surely established his authority, and it seems likely we can draw on the funds for the next Holy Capital’s reconstruction date.”
“Is that so…”
The High Priest sat heavily, his journey to the land of another provincial lord… ultimately, a venture in business.
A lifetime devoted to the noble teachings of the Telos cult. Always he strived to measure God’s will from the heavens, yet even he, bound to the earth as a human, cannot escape from interests on the ground. To live on this earth, we cannot escape from the tangled web of relationships and interests. The same holds for maintaining the Holy Capital.
Looking out at the plains through the window, High Priest Eldain was lost in thought.
Suddenly, he recalled his solitary days of faith in the majestic monastery of the Ramellun Mountains. He had always been starving, but it was the time when he was closest to God’s voice.
Now he bargains with faith as currency. If he travels, establishing someone’s authority, they never cleanse their mouths for free.
Even the most exalted believer cannot live without bread in their mouth, ultimately bound by the logic of money and power. The same is true for the High Priest reigning in the Holy City. Survival comes only with compromise.
Once, the High Priest mingled only with the nobility of the empire, but as generations passed, the scale of the Holy Order expanded, and the range of its compromises grew… eventually even reaching the border-marquis who ensures our nation’s frontiers against great influence.
Count Verche, the border-marquis, is a man who offers more donations than many royals, so he cannot be easily disregarded. Morally, there may be no need to feel guilty since he’s such a devout believer, but still, a bitter taste remains.
“High Priest. I’ve heard that today is the joint combat exercise.”
“I’m aware, Verdio. I’ve just confirmed it in the report you brought me.”
Archbishop Verdio, in service to him, was also a devout believer.
He, too, attended to God’s voice, not shirking reality—hence a far more compromising and realistic believer than High Priest Eldain.
It is only by navigating the center well that one can ascend to the archbishopric.
Faith is like wings of wax. Fly too high, and they’ll melt in the sun’s light.
The higher his position and the closer he looks at the face of faith, the more his belief wears thin.
Eldain, who prays daily and cherishes trust in the Telos, sometimes marvels at Verdio’s reasoning.
He wonders if, if needed, this man would sell even the Holy Order.
With a temperament closer to a merchant than a clergyman, Verdio is not someone who can be easily controlled or subdued by a priest. It becomes necessary to comprehend the logic of money and power to wield and manipulate him.
A strange man indeed. Yet Eldain makes no particular remark.
It’s unavoidable to concede that the Holy Order owes much to Verdio’s savvy.
In the distance, Maxes Bridge was drawing near.
* * *
“I guess no one dares to challenge me…”
Yenica sighed deeply, sitting at the wooden table in the student council building. Across from her, I sipped on a drink and responded with a knowing nod.
Time has passed, and the day of the joint combat training is upon us.
First-year students will spar with second-years, and third-years with fourth-years, with results reflected in their grades—an annual practice event that slightly changes depending on the teacher in charge.
Last year was a tournament format, whereas this year is an open-challenge style.
All first-year students of Class A are vying to be first to advance, intensifying the competition. Consequently, everyone seeks a strong opponent, influencing this year’s challenge method.
However, there were two issues. First, the third and fourth years lacked such enthusiasm for competition. Second, the strongest students faced no challengers at all—leaving the strongest student, Yenica Phailover, a third-year top seed, to duel with those considered surplus, with no one brave enough to challenge her.
“Until the fight time, we won’t know who the opponent is…”
“Do you have anyone you’d like to challenge personally?”
“Ah… wouldn’t that be a bit presumptuous…?”
She seemed shy at the idea of issuing a direct challenge. Typical Yenica.
The student council hall buzzed with students checking their pairings. Yenica and I sat at a table outside the hustle, awaiting the crowd to dissipate.
It seemed I too lacked challenging opponents—somewhat acknowledged as a strong third-year.
Indeed, the third year noticeably lacks talent, overshadowed by the formidable names in the protagonist generation. In contrast, my year feels quite unfortunate.
It’s unsurprising I’ve risen to a position of strength given all the training I’ve done, sparing no sleep.
“Ed… still reading that book Lucy gave you…”
Suddenly, Yenica puffed her cheeks, spotting the book in my hands. Wanting to keep its contents secret, I’ve hidden the cover with a jacket.
Whenever I can, I’ve been diligently reading the Sacred Otium Manuscript, practicing its magic and familiarizing myself with its flows.
Mastering it is a tremendous advantage; even most faculty struggle with Sacred Magic, and if such a privilege exists, one would be a fool not to use it.
However, even with commentary from a master of Sacred Magic, it is profoundly complex, needing more practice.
“It’s quite an important book. I’ll be reading it for awhile.”
Until the staff announced the pairings and commencement of bouts, we needed to wait here.
Wasting no time, I immersed myself in the book, while Yenica, seemingly annoyed about something, watched me with her cheek propped on the table. After minutes of fidgeting, she broke the silence.
“What shall we eat tonight? I forgot to check the camp’s food stores… Do you remember, Ed?”
“Well… there should have been enough meat… We got some leftovers from Lorel Hall’s kitchen and put them in storage; let’s just salt them and grill them up.”
“Ah, then I should ask Clara for some herbs. It gets more fragrant and tender when we grill with them.”
“Indeed… worth a try.”
Exchanging such ordinary talk that it might shock outsiders into thinking we’re cohabiting, I realized anew that Yenica lived right beside the camp, and I swallowed a breath.
Even after academic pursuits conclude, we’d pack up together, return to the forest in the north, prepare meals side by side, chatter by the campfire into the night, and when time came, depart to our separate cabins with ‘see you tomorrow’ and ‘sleep well’.
“But… about Lucy…”
“Lucy?”
“Yeah… visiting the camp often…”
She fiddled her feet, propped on her hands, with a murmur.
“Don’t you care, Ed?”
“What can I do if I did? Can I physically stop her? It’s best to think of her as a natural disaster.”
“It’s just… Lucy belongs to Ophilius Hall. If she keeps coming to camp, won’t the maids scold her?”
“That’s for her to handle. And you’re probably right; the maids seem prepared to confront her.”
The maids of Ophilius Hall were likely the only ones within the academy who could control Lucy, elite as they were.
While Yenica continued swinging her feet in the air, suddenly, a commotion arose from the center of the student council hall.
The crowd parted, and the murmuring died down.
― ‘Please make way!’
― ‘The Saintess is passing through! Please make way!’
Sylvanian Academy strictly limits external guard personnel from frequenting its campus.
With a multitude of elite and prestigious students, permission for personal guards would disrupt the academy’s operations. Therefore, except for special reasons, one cannot employ personal guards.
However, two exceptions transcended these rules—one being Princess Penia Elios Clowe, who resides in the royal dormitory with an entourage of soldiers, and the other being Saintess Clarice, occupying the Ophilius Hall’s grandest room on the top floor.
“Wow…!”
Yenica appeared to have seen Saintess Clarice for the first time. Indeed, they were in different grades, with little intersection.
A natural dignity overwhelming the crowd, impeccable white hair flowing over her body, and eerily red eyes captivating those around her.
Always appearing in sacred robes heavily laced with sanctity before the public, now in uniform, she exuded an air of mystery.
She too was part of the academy, presumably there to confirm her battle pairing. With all eyes upon her, she strode across the public square before the student council hall.
From my secluded corner, I observed her approach. Distance made her appear slight, an imposing figure wrapped in grace and nobility.
“……”
I was determined to witness closely every moment of this joint combat exercise—to see if events would unfold as I knew or diverge unexpectedly. Assessing the twist in the scenario was crucial to coping with future developments.
Already, I noticed differences from my expectations. According to my knowledge, Saintess Clarice shouldn’t have been participating in the exercise due to coinciding obligations to greet the High Priest.
But her presence to check the match list suggested her participation, possibly indicating a delay in the High Priest’s visit. If so, what might have caused such a shift?
Contemplating the current situation, I was interrupted.
“Er… Oh…”
Startled, Yenica lifted her head from the table.
Having captured everyone’s focus, Clarice bypassed the main entrance to the hall. Instead, she glanced around and, recognizing me, confidently strode in my direction. The piercing gaze of nearby students felt overwhelming.
Saintess Clarice had never casually interacted with anyone during her time at the academy, given her exalted status and the constant danger it entails.
Yet, she approached me, sitting gracefully opposite at the table, embodying grace.
“Hello, Senior Ed.”
Her voice, like crystal drops, fell silent in the midst of the crowd. Everyone seemed puzzled as if to wonder why the Saintess would greet me familiarly.
Regrettably, their confusion matched mine. Even with the timing, I could surmise that the person before me was indeed Saintess Clarice, but I had no grasp on why she would greet me here.
“I intended to send a letter at first, but I wanted to meet you quickly, so I came directly.”
With her casual bombshell, the ensuing silence was deafening.
In the midst of this, Clarice smiled subtly, refined as ever.
“Shall we have a chat?”
“……”
Managing my expression, I closed my book and set it on the table.
