Myfila, who’d been sitting pretty and sipping away at her hearty beef stew, muttered right after me in an attempt to smooth things over. “Being older hasn’t made him any less unmanageable anyway.”
I just shrugged, since I didn’t have a good reply. Cyril followed up with a sigh and said, “Yes, he’s three times as much trouble as any of our other classmates.” The other three could only stand there and awkwardly smile back.
Once she pulled herself together, the brunette gave us a genuine smile and looked us over again. “We don’t have any other lectures today, so you’ll be here having your meal for a while, right? How about we treat you to drinks?”
“Really?”
“Sure, as thanks for showing us we’ve got potential to grow, too.”
“Ha-ha-ha. You’d put us in a sorry situation if you improved more, considering you’re second rank in our year, but well, I’ll take you up on it. Could I have another glass of wine?”
Cyril traced the tip of his finger around the rim of the wine glass in front of him. I realized the three had probably made their offer because they’d noticed only a mouthful of the red liquid remained in the glass.
“What kind?”
“The Yorand red, please.”
“Oh, I never took the son of Ojlock for someone who’d drink such reasonably priced liquor.”
“The price tag isn’t what determines the taste. Even wines served at cheap pubs can have their flavor.”
As she thrust her empty glass at them with both hands, Myfila only said, “Orange juice.”
Then finally, the brunette’s eyes landed on me just as I was picking at the sautéed vegetables on my half-cleared plate.
“And you, Feil Fonaf?”
I deliberately gave her an indifferent look and turned away before replying, “I’m good. Still got some water.”
In order to distract myself from the awkwardness that came with turning down her kindness, I stuffed the vegetables into my mouth.
“You don’t have to be so polite, Feil, my man! Isn’t this the perfect opportunity for you to try some ale after suffering through only water all this time?!”
“Ghol, seriously, stop! Can’t you have some tact for once?”
Cyril then chided the one who’d suddenly been rude—not the brunette’s teammate but me instead. “I know you hate people doing you favors, but it’s only polite to accept an offer from a classmate.”
“I know that…,” I said. “But I really am fine with just water.”
I knew I was at fault for my own stubbornness in this situation.
I knew the brunette had no ulterior motives and that, to her, offering to buy someone a drink at the dining hall just came naturally.
Her name was Lulua Folicker. I’m pretty sure that made her part of one of the famous conjurer families. She’d likely grown up pampered and never had to worry about money. A lady through and through, and probably brought up like a princess herself.
On the other hand, I just couldn’t stand handouts. If I accepted a drink from her now, I knew I’d never have a means of reciprocating later, and that weighed too heavily on my mind to take her up on the offer.
Lulua was already replying. “W-well, it’s all right. I’m not going to force you to accept,” she said, trying to tide things over.
“Get a load of this! The commoner’s son is eating the veg-scrap special again!”
A group of conspicuously less-considerate classmates had filed into the dining hall then. I saw Duck-Head was taking the lead with a detestable grin on his face as he brought all six jokers over to us. His bangs were slicked back sky-high, and the sides were close cropped. This guy—the one I’d christened the duck-head summoner—was more commonly known as “Bernhart Hadcheck” by others.
He came from a family famous enough to rival Cyril’s, but unlike my friend, he was infamous for being a moneyed hack. The guy was wearing his usual uniform of garish and expensive necklaces and bracelets, which only served to flaunt his buffoonery. The henchmen trailing after him were decked out in gold, too—likely a gift from their boss, Lord Bernhart, himself.
“Yo, Cyril, must be tuckered out from all that running away.”
“Yes, I’m quite tired, so if you have no business here, I’d appreciate it if you could go on your merry way. Simply hearing your voice makes me break out in hives.”
“Don’t be like that, bud. Don’t you want to know what happened in the matches after yours?”
“Nope. In fact, I have no interest in them.”
“It was a sweep! For me! It was such a piece of cake, I didn’t even have the chance to work up an appetite, but you know we gotta celebrate three conquests in a row!” Bernhart took a look at the food I’d ordered and snorted. “Do you ever eat meals that don’t stink, pauper?”
Then one of the henchmen behind him piped up, “He’s got a boor’s palate! The only thing he’s ever eaten is the veggie-scrap special, after all!”
In that moment, as those idiots spewed nonsense, I felt indignation bubbling up to the forefront of my mind. I wasn’t the kind of person who could stand idly by while people were making a fool out of me. There are some fights worth getting into.
I gave in to my emotions, bringing my fist up to slam it down on the table, but right then, someone beat me to the punch. Cyril stood up without a word. His usual nobility was nowhere to be seen. His muscular body, more fit than anyone else’s around, was oozing frigidity as he looked down on Bernhart and the henchmen.
“Bold of you to make a mockery of the Ojlock family, which prides itself on bravery and tactical skills… You seem intent on starting a war with me.”
They say that serene people are frightening when angered. Seeing Cyril’s quiet fury, I quickly forgot my own.
That put the miscreants, who’d only been running their mouths because they were with their leader, in a much more frightening position than if I’d yelled at them myself.
One of the henchmen looked terrified as he started to blabber excuses. “W-we weren’t— We were just making fun of Feil Fonaf—”
“That’s exactly why you’re at fault. Do I seem like the type to laugh off your making a mockery of my friend?”
And then…no one could work up the nerve to say anything in the awkward atmosphere.
Bernhart was the first to break the silence—by punching the daylights out of the henchman who’d teased me.
“Let’s go! You’ve got a lot of nerve putting a damper on my victories!”
After spitting that out, he stalked off into the large dining hall. The kid he’d punched got off his rear end and followed right after, howling, “W-wait for me! Bernhart!”
Cyril sat right down without a word as though nothing had happened at all. He swigged the remainder of his wine and talked Myfila down, saying, “If you use lightning spells at this range, someone’s going to end up dead, so cool it.” Apparently, she’d been planning to cast a spell the moment the bullying had begun.
Lulua, who’d seen it all, said to me, “You’ve got great teammates.”
“It ain’t exactly a good thing they’re more hot-blooded than me.”
“Pfft! Ha-ha! That’s a riot considering you’re the most off-kilter maverick in your grade! Okay, just give me a sec. I’ll get drinks for Cyril and Myfila.”
The order counter was right next to the entrance. As I watched her head off with her two friends, I murmured to myself as a thought occurred to me. “Wonder if Sasha’s hungry. I’m pretty sure she used plenty of her magic, too.”
It wasn’t like I was looking for anyone to answer, but Cyril obliged me with one anyway. “You haven’t heard? Sasha’s team has another match today.”
“You kidding me? Normal people would die havin’ two in one day.”
“It can’t be easy being the top of her year and the top of the Academy, too. Actually, she’s probably giving the third-years a run for their money like usual right around now. It’s Agnika Aluka. Sasha wouldn’t let anyone like that beat her.”
“Huh…?”
At the Academy, we had matches between the summoner teams every day in the afternoon. They were straightforward mock battles—two teams of three per Academy ranking match. Who lost and who won would determine our grades for practical skills.
Our team just so happened to be fifth out of the first-years and twenty-second out of the whole Academy ranking. We’d been putting in the work. We were average, but greedy.
“Feil, want to head back to the dorms after eating? I want to ask you and Myfila something about the interpretation of the tome you showed me yesterday—The Warrior’s Last Teaching of Suspicion.”
“Sorry. I’ve got overnight work today.”
“Can’t you get a day off considering you fought Sasha? I think you’re going to work yourself to death at this rate.”
“Dude, I’m poor. If I don’t work, I can’t afford to eat.”
“I’ve been telling you that I can help you out with your monthly living expenses…”
“I’m fine. Bein’ alone in life makes things easy, but it comes with its fair share of hardships, too.”