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Chapter 55
Chapter 55. Alice Louis Arc (Part 1)
Dawnlight pierced through the morning mist, and gilded rays spilled over the towering stone buildings of Royal Knight Middle School. This foremost knight academy of Saphile, standing near the outskirts of the Royal Capital and carrying a century of legacy, welcomed its triennial opening ceremony.
The vast central training ground had already been carefully arranged. On both sides of the gray-blue granite ground stood twelve marble pillars carved with knightly oaths, olive branches hanging from their tops.
At the very front of the training ground was a towering podium. Deep green ivy and silver-white thorn flowers wound around its edge, and at the center hung the academy flag embroidered with a Holy Sword design. When the wind blew, the flag snapped sharply.
Inside the training ground, more than two thousand students stood in orderly ranks. They wore unified academy uniforms and had been divided into dozens of square formations according to grade and field of study, stretching farther than the eye could see.
W е̌ bñõv̌_е l̂ Еn̆ ǔ mа̀_
The new students wore light gray fitted uniforms, with bronze badges that had yet to be engraved with their names pinned to their chests. Their eyes were full of curiosity and longing, and their fingertips unconsciously rubbed the basic swords hanging at their waists.
On both sides of the student formations, more than a hundred academy teachers stood in separate ranks, forming a magnificent lineup.
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They were scholarly masters and retired knight order commanders from across the continent. Some wore the knight uniforms of the Royal Knight Order, silver armor draped over their bodies and glorious military exploits behind them. Some were literary research masters in purple robes. Some were martial instructors skilled in swordsmanship and combat, while others were erudite survival teachers who studied herbs, runes, and history.
The teachers were dressed differently, yet all of them displayed extraordinary ability as they quietly watched the students before them.
“Damn, this old geezer talks way too much.”
“Agreed. Let’s eat barbecue tonight.”
Enũ mа̄ . ì d
“How about potatoes as the side dish?”
Fick, Uncle Jesus, and Clark stood in the front row of the fieldwork staff, quietly chatting out of the corners of their mouths.
At noon, the morning mist had dispersed, and the sunlight grew even more brilliant. Along with the solemn and melodious sound of a magic horn, the opening ceremony officially began.
Every teacher and student in the venue instantly stood upright, heads raised and chests out, their gazes turning in unison toward the center of the podium. Headmaster Medivh slowly walked out in a dark blue robe edged with gold, instantly becoming the focus of the entire venue.
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Headmaster Medivh stood tall and straight. His messy silver-gray hair was tied back and draped behind him, and on his chest, he wore a headmaster’s badge embedded with a deep-blue starstone.
“Quiet, quiet.” Once Headmaster Medivh stood still, a deep and resonant wave of sound instantly spread across the entire training ground. “Welcome, everyone, to Royal Knight Middle School. Welcome, every student who carries a knightly dream, to this land that has inherited glory and strength.”
Е̃ñ u̇m_a . id.
His voice carried the sediment of age and the composure of a wise man. His gaze slowly swept across the more than two thousand students and two hundred teachers present.
After that, the ceremony proceeded in order. First, the academy’s swordsmanship teachers gave a demonstration. Iron swords came out of their sheaths, cold light flashing. Their figures were agile, and their moves were fierce, displaying the superb martial skill of Royal Knights and filling the new students’ eyes with admiration. Then the teacher representative and student representative went up to speak in turn. Their words were full of ceremonial remarks about love for the academy, thirst for knowledge, and commitment to glory.
After the speeches ended, Headmaster Medivh stepped forward again. “Royal Knight Middle School does not teach cowardice or retreat. It passes down only loyalty and courage. It does not teach obsession or recklessness. It grants only wisdom and restraint.”
“More than two thousand students are the academy’s new strength. More than a hundred teachers are your guides on the path ahead. May you study swordsmanship here, temper your bodies, research links, and enrich your minds. May you set your hearts upon the soul of a knight, live up to the academy’s name, live up to royal glory, and live up to the passion of your youth.”
As his words fell, Headmaster Medivh took out a Magic Crystal and held it in his mouth. With a wave of his hand, the griffin on the academy flag seemed to come alive. It circled once through the air, then transformed into golden specks of light that fell upon every teacher and student.
Thunderous applause and cheers rang out across the venue. The students shouted the academy oath in unison, and the teachers all raised their hands in salute.
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...
At the same time, a thousand li away in Koyanxiton, the scene was one of bone-piercing cold.
There was no gilded warm sunlight from the outskirts of the Royal Capital here. There was only a sky full of cold wind carrying fragmented snow as it swept across the withered yellow wasteland, howling as though countless wronged souls were sobbing in low voices.
A desolate fodder yard stood alone at the edge of the wasteland. Its earthen walls were mottled, its thatched roof was old and worn, and the cold wind drilled into the building through the cracks in the walls and the window lattice, freezing people until their fingertips stiffened and even their breaths carried shards of ice.
Alice Louis was keeping watch in this fodder yard. She was still wearing the academy uniform whose edges had been worn fuzzy, and it no longer carried even the slightest trace of the vigor she had possessed when she first entered school.
She tucked both hands into her sleeves and kept rubbing her frozen, reddened hands together. The white breath she exhaled had barely reached her lips before it was scattered by the cold wind.
Èn um̂ à . і̀ d̄
Her once-clear eyes were now full of exhaustion, grievance, and suppressed resentment. Yet she could only endure it, lowering her head to look at the weak flames in the stove and occasionally adding a handful of dry grass as she watched over the entire yard of fodder.
Who could have imagined that only a few short days ago, she had still been a new student of the Military Witch Academy, full of anticipation? And now she had ended up expelled from school and sent to guard fodder in this bitterly cold land.
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The root of all this trouble had begun on the second day after the opening ceremony.
At that time, the new students had just entered the academy, and various subsidy matters were being processed one after another. The class monitor relied on her exceptional talent as the only C-rank witch in the class to secretly seize the subsidy slots that should have belonged to truly impoverished students—students so poor they could not even afford a basic sword. She forged documents to claim the aid and embezzle the money. Those impoverished students dared to be angry but not to speak, and could only wipe away their tears in private.
Alice had lived under someone else’s roof since childhood and had tasted poverty and injustice in every form. Although she did not like causing trouble, she also could not bear to watch such filthy acts of relying on power to bully others and steal away another person’s lifeline. Considering her own safety, after school, before returning to the dormitory, she found an academy instructor and truthfully reported the class monitor’s evil deeds.
She had thought the academy would uphold justice and give those impoverished students fairness, but that class monitor was no ordinary student. She was clearly the child of a noble family from the Royal Capital, coming to the academy merely to gild herself and build credentials. No wonder she was C-rank, while Alice had only barely touched the threshold of D-rank.
Ӗ ňum̈а
After learning from the teacher that Alice was the one who had reported her, the class monitor turned around and checked Alice’s foster background through the school registration office. Then she spread it wildly through the class, mocking her to the fullest and inciting the witches from noble families in the class to band together and ostracize her. Meanwhile, the commoner witches also mocked Alice’s mother for clinging to the powerful, calling Alice a mixed-blood.
In class, they deliberately knocked over her ink bottle. During training, they deliberately bumped into her to make her embarrass herself. Behind her back, they gossiped in the ugliest ways, saying that a fostered girl like her had no right to meddle in other people’s affairs.
At first, Alice only endured it and avoided them. But those people pressed further and further. Finally, during one break, the witches surrounded her, shoving and insulting her in every possible way. Alice could no longer bear it. She immediately clenched her fists and rushed forward, wrestling with them.
Although she was a witch, she had little magical talent. The other witches had understood magic arrays on the very first day, but Alice could not understand them no matter what she did.
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She was reluctant to spend the money Shulia had given her, wanting to save it to bribe her superiors, so she did not have any fine equipment either. She fought only with brute strength, taking many punches and kicks, yet she still refused to lower her head and beg for mercy.
After the matter was brought before the instructor, Alice, her head broken and blood flowing, believed with all her heart that she could obtain an explanation. She even gritted her teeth and took out the few coins she had saved by living frugally—the little spending money given by her foster family—and quietly stuffed them into the instructor’s hand, asking only for a fair judgment.
Еn ǔmа
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