Chapter 45
It was during riding practice a few days earlier.
In the relaxed atmosphere, Lenart was more laid-back than usual, lingering along the edge of the training ground. The bay horse, seemingly fond of its calm rider, strolled slowly along the fence.
The instructor was indifferent to everyone, Lenart included.
It wasn’t a complicated training session — the only real expectation was not to fall off the horse — so for both riders and horses, it was little different from being turned out to pasture.
By this point in the year, the instructor knew full well that students had lost any desire to cause trouble.
After a long stretch of silence, Lenart suddenly noticed the quiet was… too quiet.
Normally, whenever there was such a lull, that one voice would always butt in.
Had Gibelin finally given up?
No sooner had the thought brought a flicker of hope than Gibelin drew up alongside, his horse’s head level with Lenart’s.
“Good day, Your Highness.”
“…”
“You seem in even worse spirits than usual today. Surely it’s not the exam you’re worrying about? You’ve already heard what they’re saying about this term. I doubt next term will be any different — though that’s rather unfortunate for my classmates. With the rankings already fixed, there’s hardly any motivation left.”
Gibelin glanced sidelong at a few classmates idly wandering about, then continued.
“Not that anyone else looks particularly eager… though I imagine it’s different for the juniors you’ve taken an interest in. Baer, wasn’t it? I’m curious to see if she’ll live up to her bold words and bring back the grades she promised.”
Who could take that as a literal “I’m rooting for her”? Even Ranze, in her most generous mood, wouldn’t.
Given how poor relations were between Gibelin and Lenart, the odds of twisting his words for the worse were high.
Sure enough, Gibelin went on,
“From what I’ve heard, it’ll be difficult. No matter how exceptional one’s practical skills, without solid theory you can’t actually use it in a real operation. And the higher-ups won’t put their trust in you, either.”
Lenart stayed silent. His resolve not to speak to Gibelin remained intact — and besides, it wasn’t as if the man’s words were wrong.
Lenart had helped Ranze with her studies here and there, but her upcoming written exam scores would likely be somewhere around the middle of the pack.
…But you can’t measure her abilities by the academy’s grading alone.
To say she’d be useless in real combat? In an actual fight, there were few magicians who could best Ranze.
He urged his horse forward.
Still, the reminder that it was this evaluation that mattered right now brought on a wave of irritation.
“Were you perhaps… hoping for it?”
Sensing his foul mood, Gibelin nevertheless kept pace.
“Do you also want to pair up with Baer?”
He had struck on something Lenart had been wrestling with.
From his time at Simone, Lenart knew Ranze was an excellent partner, and he had no desire to see her paired with someone else. But lately, a more practical concern had crept into his mind.
Even if the Emperor found out, Ranze still had a chance to live in peace.
Did she really need to dig into the truth behind the selection exam?
Maybe it was better to put some distance between them.
Though he thought it cowardly not to say it to her directly, the words never came.
Lenart had a long-standing habit of shrinking back — the courage that had once made him storm out of the formal dining hall wasn’t something he could sustain forever… nor should he.
“I’ve seen you with those juniors quite a bit. They don’t seem entirely hopeless, do they?”
It was only when Gibelin said something unexpected that Lenart was jolted out of his thoughts.
“I might be able to help with that.”
Lenart reacted, not because he was tempted, but because he was baffled.
“You’d like to prevent them from coming back with truly dismal grades, wouldn’t you?”
Until now, Gibelin had tried several times to persuade Lenart to choose him as a partner. And now, suddenly, he was offering to help with the exam? The logic didn’t track.
Even under Lenart’s openly suspicious gaze, Gibelin explained in his usual crisp manner.
“The instructors are well aware that there’s little interaction between upper- and lower-year students. They won’t change the problem format this year either. You’ll give Baer the questions from two years ago — if I add last year’s as well, then no matter how dim-witted she may be, she’ll score above average. At the very least, she won’t fail.”
“…And what do you get out of this?”
Gibelin’s smile was barely restrained. He was clearly pleased just to hear Lenart speak — a rare enough occurrence unless Lenart was deliberately arguing with Ranze.
“I’d get the chance to prove my usefulness to Your Highness. And Baer doing some strategic studying won’t suddenly make her first in class, will it?”
The smartest move would have been to take a step back and act disinterested.
Instead, Lenart spoke.
“All right. Let’s hear it.”
Overjoyed, Gibelin set a date, and over the next few days he passed along the previous year’s exam questions.
Luckily, he finished just before a holiday, allowing Lenart to bring the compiled material to Ranze.
“You talked with that guy for a long time? The year-before-last’s questions would’ve been fine…”
For a moment she seemed pleased, but at the mention of Gibelin’s name she bristled.
“Being able to compare formats is useful. You boasted about your grades — so quit complaining and get inside to study.”
Lenart made his tone deliberately firm.
Ranze did have reason to react that way — Gibelin never missed an opportunity to needle her whenever they crossed paths.
He’d even once told her she had “a head more hollow than a pumpkin,” so this wasn’t an easy grudge to let go.
Still, even material from an enemy was worth combing through if it meant a chance at payback.
Leaving Erna and Heine’s startled greetings behind, Lenart headed for the stairs. Before long, hurried footsteps followed.
“Senior.”
“I said go inside.”
“I don’t think I thanked you properly. And besides, it’s stuffy in there. Want to take a short walk?”
Since they so rarely had conversations that flowed, Lenart let her be.
The path stretching past the library was free of carriage traffic, normally clean and smooth, but now covered in leaves bigger than a person’s face.
Whether from budget cuts or someone’s embezzlement, the fallen leaves had gone uncollected all autumn.
Ranze kicked at the piles, making a dry rustling sound.
“Anyway, Senior — he didn’t give that to you for free. What did he want? Did he make you sign something promising to take him as a partner?”
“No.”
“Then just like that?”
“He said even with the questions, you’d never be first in class.”
Ranze stomped her heel into the leaves.
Yet she didn’t deny it as swiftly as she once would have.
“Your biggest problem’s probably math.”
“Yeah…”
“From your magic, it’s clear you’re not without a knack for it.”
In fact, her instincts were excellent. But being unable to express them in formulas was a major flaw in an environment like the academy — and the military beyond.
“And you can’t exactly claim you’ve been making the effort, either.”
Lenart studied her downcast face.
“Is the reason you insist on pairing with me because you want me to handle the calculations?”
“…Is that not allowed?”
Lenart was momentarily speechless.
He’d wondered if his question was too sharp, but her answer was so disarming it threw him off.
“Of course that’s not the only reason.”
She looked up at him with an open, unbothered expression.
“I’m most comfortable and have the most fun when I’m with you. I’ve gotten close to Erna too, but… if we stuck together too much, we’d just end up irritating each other. So if I have to choose a partner, you’re the best and the greatest option for me. And you made me explain all this — that’s one of your bad habits acting up, isn’t it?”
Lenart couldn’t bring himself to deny it.
Whether or not the Emperor disapproved, he had thought it would be fine — and he himself had wanted to be her partner. Somehow, in just the past few weeks, that resolve had blurred into self-doubt.
“It’s just the cold weather,” Ranze said lightly.
“People can’t always run on pure willpower. There are times when your guard drops. But the most important thought hasn’t changed, has it?”
The cold…
Attaching such a trivial reason made the tension drain from his shoulders. At his faint smile, Ranze asked,
“I want to be your partner, Senior. What about you?”
“I… want to be your partner too.”
Lenart’s reply was awkward. It felt oddly fresh — he had never flatly refused her before, but it was the first time he had openly said yes.
It wasn’t the content so much as the act of stating his wish outright that made him self-conscious — he was far more used to disappointment than to voicing his hopes.
Satisfied, Ranze nodded.
“Good. Then stop overthinking and wait patiently. The rest is up to me, right?”
“Maybe that’s why I was worried.”
“…What was that?”
“Nothing. Just study. And don’t stress too much — even if your grades are bad, there’ll be another way.”
“You mean like repeating the year?”
Their conversation drifted into aimless teasing as they turned back toward the library.
Time flew, and at last the end-of-term exams began.
In an ordinary school, the subjects would have been spread over several days. But at the Mage Academy, the written tests were packed into a single day, running from morning to evening without a wasted minute.
Of course, “waste” was defined by the school’s standards — there was not a speck of consideration for the students.
By the time they were released from the exam hall, even Ranze had no strength left to speak.
Erna sat collapsed on a bench, and Heine just stared vacantly at the ground.
All three desperately wanted to go back to the dorms and lie down, but the practical test assignments and team announcements still lay ahead.
They’d been running on empty for a while now, with no energy left to even worry about the results of the test they had just taken. The nearby classmates, also waiting, all wore the same dull, dazed expressions.
Because the upper years were given their practical assignments first, the first-years had to wait until the very end.
“Third-years are done. Second-years still inside?”
At Ranze’s question, Heine nodded.
Just then, the auditorium doors opened and the second-years streamed out.
Ranze craned her neck, searching for Lenart. He emerged last, lagging behind his peers.
“How was the exam?”
She flopped her arm in greeting, though she’d meant to wave — she just didn’t have the strength.
Sitting beside her, Erna quickly took her arm down.
“Ranze, people are going to stare.”
“What can you do? I don’t care, so it’s fine.”
“You don’t need to do that to stand out. Your sister’s right — be mindful of how others see you.”
At Lenart’s scolding, Ranze shot him an annoyed glare. Undeterred, he asked the question she’d been hoping to avoid.
“More importantly, how was your exam?”
“I wrote down everything I could think of.”
Finding the answer dubious, Lenart looked skyward. Whether from the time of day or the pounding in his head, his vision had gone dark.
