A few days had passed since I—or rather, we—started our cooking classes.
My instruction focused primarily on teaching the students how to make the dormitory’s standard ingredients taste better. Since these were meals served in a school dormitory, the budget and suppliers were already set; I couldn't just suddenly start requesting new ingredients or seasonings. Because of that, the task was actually quite the challenge.
"You’re being awfully generous with your teaching. Is that really okay?" Sil asked me, looking concerned.
"What do you mean?"
"The cooking techniques. Instructor Frau told us that knowledge and skill are assets, remember? She said we should keep them secret and only give them out sparingly."
"I remember. But the Village Head told me later that it was fine to teach as much as I wanted when it came to cooking."
"The Village Head did?"
"Yeah. He just laughed and said it was better for people to eat delicious food than something that tastes like dirt."
"I see. If the Village Head gave the order, then there’s no problem."
"Now that you’re convinced, help me out. You’re dumping all the work on me."
"Like Uncle Galf always says, cooking is best left to those who are actually good at it."
"He did say that, but we're short-handed. Please."
"Alright, alright. Where’s Bron?"
"Resolving that trouble from before."
"Ah, right. That."
By "that trouble," I meant the reality of attending an academy full of nobles. Before we arrived, several people had taken offense to newcomers who didn't belong to any particular faction gathering a crowd and making a scene. We had sensed the tension for a while, but we’d managed to avoid a direct confrontation thanks to the status barrier of being Equivalent to Baron House Head and the fact that we holed up in our house as soon as our essential classes were over.
To be honest, factions are a massive pain. Since I planned to return to the village after graduating, I didn't think too deeply about it. However, it seemed we were in more danger than I realized, and we only avoided disaster through the Academy Director’s intervention.
The Academy Director’s "consideration" was the very job I was doing now: improving the dormitory meals. Her intention was likely to win the other students over to our side by making their food better. I wanted to complain that if she had just told me that from the start, I would have been much more willing to help... but I suppose I’m still being treated like a child. Well, I am a child, so I guess it can't be helped.
In any case, I thought we would be fine for a while, but there was a fool who exceeded even the Academy Director’s expectations. The Marquis's Son, as it turned out. He gathered a gang of about twenty people and stormed our house.
Unfortunately for him, his timing was terrible. Since it was dinner time, there were about eighty people gathered around our home. I don't think I've ever seen a more one-sided fight. I learned that day that the grudge held for having one’s meal interrupted is a truly terrifying thing.
I had hoped it would end there, but the next day, a formal letter of impeachment arrived from the House of Marquis, claiming their son had been "unjustly harmed." It took me a moment to process what they were even talking about, but essentially, a parent had stepped in to settle a children’s quarrel.
However, as expected, the Academy would not allow such an intervention. The teachers who had been there for dinner had already reported the true sequence of events to the administration. No matter how you looked at it, we weren't at fault—but the logic of noble status was now in play.
The Head of the House of Marquis spoke: "If this continues, it will result in a Duel. What do you think?" (Translation: We are the House of Marquis. We have the money and the manpower to win. If you apologize now, I'll let this go.)
Our reply: "It cannot be helped. Let us settle this according to protocol." (Translation: I'm going to kill you.)
And so, Bron was left to discuss the finer details of the Duel with the Marquis’s side. What format it would take, how victory would be decided, and who would serve as the Witness. The Academy had provided a few teachers to act as advisors, so there shouldn't have been any major issues. All that was left was figuring out how to win.
In hindsight, I have to admit my blood had rushed to my head. When the Marquis's Son first attacked, he had flipped over one of our pots, and that was all I could think about. After accepting the Duel, reality started to set in. Could we really win a fight against an adult?
I was anxious, but everyone in the Club cheered us on, saying it would be fine. They argued that an active Marquis couldn't take pride in winning against students by dragging out professionals, so a somewhat fair method would likely be chosen. Besides, no matter who he hired, the party involved—the Marquis's Son—would eventually have to step onto the field. If we targeted him, we’d manage somehow.
Clinging to those words, I finished my cooking class for the day.
During dinner, Bron returned.
"Things have turned out badly."
The Academy teacher who had accompanied him as an advisor also wore a dark expression. The Duel format was to be a knockout tournament between five warriors chosen by each side. That wasn't particularly unusual or problematic in itself. The problem was what came next.
The parties involved were prohibited from participating. In short, neither we nor the Marquis’s Son could fight. We had to find five warriors to fight in our place.
"It's our Duel, but we can't participate?" Sil asked.
"They say it’s a battle of resources—of who can provide the better warriors," Bron replied. The Academy teacher added that this was officially recognized as a Proxy Duel to protect the honor of the high-ranking nobles involved.
Then came the real issue.
"By barring the parties involved, the Marquis can simply line up the strongest warriors in his service," the teacher explained. "I’m sorry. I tried my best to overturn that condition, but..."
The teacher apologized, but before I could respond, Bron cut in.
"That's not even the worst part."
"There's more?"
"Yeah. Count Chrome has been appointed as the Witness. It's Uncle Beezel."
That was definitely bad. He was the first person I had thought of to help us find warriors. But a Witness cannot lend his strength to either side before a Duel. Even if we asked, he would have to refuse. This meant they had realized we were acquaintances with Uncle Beezel and moved to neutralize him.
"And for the finishing blow..."
"What?"
"The Duel is tomorrow."
...
I looked up at the sky. The Two Moons were beautiful.
On the day of the Duel, a massive crowd of spectators gathered at the designated Ground. Apparently, most classes had been canceled so the students could watch the spectacle. The heat and excitement of the crowd reminded me of the festivals back in the village.
"What's wrong? You're spacing out. Are you okay?" Sil asked. He was looking pretty unsteady himself. We had spent all of last night running around trying to find warriors. Honestly, I thought it would be impossible to find five, but we managed. At the very last second, some members of the Club stepped up to help us. I told them that just standing there to make up the numbers was fine and that they should surrender the moment the fighting started.
"Making the audience wait too long would be a disservice. Shall we begin?" the Marquis said, radiating confidence. (Translation: Why don't you just give up now?)
But we weren't going to back down.
"That is exactly what we want. Let us fight fair and square." (Translation: I'm going to kill you.)
"Hmph, very well. It was an unfortunate incident, but let us settle it here." (Translation: ...I'm sorry about my son. As the head of my house, I had to step in to protect our honor. Please, take it easy on us.)
"Yes, it is settled." (Translation: Too little, too late.)
Uncle Beezel, acting as the Witness, made the official declaration. The Duel began.
"Both sides, send out your first combatant."
A roar of cheers rose from the crowd. The first warrior on the Marquis’s side was a heavily armed Minotaur. Apparently, he was quite famous, and the massive Axe in his hands was terrifying.
"That's so petty." "Bringing him out is basically cheating." "Man, they are playing for keeps."
The spectators’ comments made it clear they were certain of the Marquis’s victory. Like hell we'd lose. Our first combatant stepped forward, a little slower than the other.
Good luck, Uncle Demon King!
(For the record, the Academy had ruled that since the dispute was between students, it would be inappropriate for a teacher to participate as a member.)