Ghila stormed into Astur's luxury tent with the rest of the instructors glued to her heels. I exchanged a knowing look with Holst, and we followed inside. The tent was more spacious inside than its outer perimeter suggested, with armchairs and a coffee table. Maybe an expansion enchantment? If teleportation were possible, subjective spaces might be as well, but no matter how much I looked around, I didn't find the enchanted item that allowed the spatial buckle.

Though that may have been because Ghila's dangerous aura prevented me from focusing.

"What's wrong with you, Gwan? Cadets aren't supposed to fight people until the end of the second year!" she shouted over the murmurs of the instructors.

She was furious.

"Dropouts have a whole year more of experience," an instructor I haven't met said.

"They must have ten levels above the cadets! Will their levels be bound by the Hex?" another shouted.

Astur remained serene. When he cleared his throat, the murmurs quietened.

"The cadets knew the risks when they signed up for the Academy," he said. "To reach the heights we aim for, they'll have to risk their lives, just as we did when we were young. I don't think anyone here would disagree."

The instructors mumbled, some convinced, others even more outraged.

There was a certain dose of truth in Astur's words. If I hadn't risked my life back at the Farlands, I wouldn't have reached the Lv.45 or achieved a Prestige Class. To progress beyond the softcap, one had to punch upward. Still, a test—above all—should be fair.

A familiar voice carried above the sound of the small crowd. The voice was calm, although it had enough strength to get over the uproar. Holst. "Grandmaster Astur, is there any reason to put the children of half the kingdom's noble families in such danger?"

The instructors quietened down.

Holst spoke again.

"If even one of them gets severely hurt, the political backlash will be immense. I recommend adopting a more conservative approach like we have done in previous years."

I felt the tides changing. Holst was a great orator.

"Difficult times are coming, Darius. It's no time to worry about political backlash, but rather about the strength of the kingdom," Astur retorted, his charming voice coating his words with a layer of false truth.

Holst wasn't impressed.

"The safety of the kingdom doesn't rest on the shoulders of our cadets," he said.

"It will in the future. My decision is final."

"Then, I want to formally call for a veto of today's selection exam."

"You are not in charge, Darius," Astur said, suddenly irritated.

"It falls within my authority as an instructor," Holst replied, giving me a sidelong glance.

I silently thanked him. Nobody had given me a procedures manual, but it seemed Holst was speaking serious stuff because all the instructors became completely silent and focused on Astur. Inside the tent, there were twenty-three martial instructors plus a handful of magical instructors.

"Let's put it to a vote, then," Astur said. "Those against conducting the selection exam on the basis of its dangerousness, raise your hands."

All the magical instructors and about half of the martial instructors raised their hands. Holst, Ghila, and I also raised our hands. Fifteen votes in total. We had the majority, but my relief was short-lived.

"Rhovan, what in the everloving System?!" Ghila shouted.

Rhovan and his group's hands remained down. They had moved to face the crowd, like they were Astur's bodyguards. The other instructors exchanged nervous glances.

"Lord Astur speaks the truth. Cadets don't become Imperial Knights by playing around in the safety of the capital," he said, raising his voice. "How can you vote against him, Ghila? Didn't you break the 30's barrier when you were around their age? And you, Holst, didn't you pick up the sword to fight a Monster Surge even though you were a Scholar?"

Although Holst and Ghila didn't change their vote, two hands came down.

"Cadria is surrounded by monsters to the East, West, and North," Rhovan continued. "Isn't it our duty to create a force to keep it safe? You know how many Imperial Knights die each year. If we don't temper our cadets now, they will shatter later. We don't want that blood in our hands."

Another hand came down.

"Anything else to say, Darius?" Astur asked with a satisfied smile.

"I still believe the methodology of this selection exam is reckless and bound to result in serious injuries, if not worse. A blacksmith can't create a strong sword if he ruins the metal beforehand," Holst said.

Seeing the tide was turning, many more martial instructors changed their vote.

"Duly noted. Those in favor of continuing with the exercise raise your hands."

I cursed, lowering my hand. We had turned into a minority.

"The vote is over. The selection exam will continue as scheduled. You may leave."

The instructors trickled outside the tent. Rhovan passed by my side with a smug grin. In his mind, tradition seemed to be more important than the safety of the cadets. Maybe Talindra was right about 'the contents of his soul'.

"Ah, before I forget about it," Astur said, and all the instructors stopped. "Robert Clarke, if you or your old students interfere in the exam… if any of you touch even a hair of any of the participants, I will disqualify your whole squad. Are we clear?"

In a single swoop, Astur shattered my plans of keeping some semblance of safety during the exam. If one of my students was going to be severely injured, I totally planned to interfere, even if that disqualified them. However, I couldn't risk the whole squad being kicked from the Academy. Thinking about Leonie, Yvain, and Kili, I couldn't just shatter their hopes.

"Are we clear, Instructor Clarke?"

"If any of my students are injured, I will hold you responsible," I said loudly enough for everyone to hear.

Astur raised an eyebrow, and pure-white mana crackled around his arms. The atmosphere inside the tent became heavy, like someone had set a hungry tiger free. No one moved.

"Are you threatening me, Scholar?"

"Take it however you like," I replied, turning my back to the mana demonstration and exiting the tent.

The cadets had somewhat dispersed, but a good portion of them were outside the tent, waiting for the meeting's outcome. The Cabbage squad was nowhere to be found. I pushed through the camp towards the corner where we'd had lunch.

"That was ballsy," Holst said, catching up to me.

"And I appreciate your attempt; it was brave," I replied.

"It was smart, not brave… although ineffective," Holst corrected me, channeling his mana and using [Minor Illusion] to create a copy of the exam's map.

No, I reminded myself. Holst already had [Mirage] when he showed us his Character Sheet during Farcrest's feast.

A number floated on top of the map. 3914. The respective lines appeared connecting the dots in the shortest path possible.

"I'm sure Astur created the exam to prevent teamwork, but there is a way," Holst said.

Something clicked inside my mind. I channeled [Mirage] and created a translucent version of the map, but with a different number. 1403. The paths were diametrically different, except for the 1-4 section.

"It took you a moment," Holst teased, just to regain his visage of detached seriousness an instant later. "The more cadets involved, the more overlapping paths we would have. Even if you have something like 1934, you don't have to visit the stations in that order. A 1-4 path is possible."

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I was generally against teachers giving students the answers to a test, but it was Astur who threw the glove in the first place. Partial teamwork was still teamwork and a great way of maximizing our chances. A two-versus-one fight already tilted the scales towards the more numerous team, regardless of personal skill.

Holst still gave me ambivalent feelings, but I was glad we were on the same ship.

"What Rhovan said about you… Is it true?" I asked.

Not every Scholar decided to pick the sword. Holst must've had a reason, but I always assumed he was fishing for the Tactician Prestige Class.

"It was a pragmatic choice. Farcrest lacked soldiers thirty years ago. Still, I'd rather that knucklehead kept my private affairs to himself," Holst grunted.

Thirty plus fifteen, made Holst at least forty-five years old. I thought he was younger. He certainly looked younger, but even back on Earth, there were people whose hair didn't gray out until well into their forties.

"You fought alongside Izabeka," I said matter-of-factly.

Holst sighed like a moody teenager answering the stupid questions of his younger brother.

"I'm a Holst. Of course I fought for the city. The fact I'm still alive should be proof enough I wasn't anywhere near Izabeka," he said.

The Kiln and the Holst families went back to the foundation of Farcrest. I wondered if Holst's ancestors were warriors. As Izabeka described the city decades ago, it didn't seem like a place for Scholars.

Just as I was going to continue with the interrogation, Ghila popped behind us like a ghost.

"What are you two plotting?"

Surprise flashed over Holst's face for a fraction of a second.

Even with [Foresight] active in the background of my mind, I hadn't detected her presence either.

"Scholar things. You wouldn't get it," Holst said, dismissing his [Mirage].

He was cocky, considering Ghila could probably squash him with her thumb.

"Come on, if you're going to do something, count me in," she said.

Holst grunted. "Naïve."

Ghila was set aback.

"Naive? You heard Rhovan. I massacred a bandit camp when I was fifteen. I think I can take the two of you if you cross me."

Rhovan hadn't gone into details about Ghila's background. Hitting Lv.30 before turning eighteen, though, was something I've only ever heard Izabeka achieve—and she had killed a Forest Warden.

"Massacred?" I asked.

"I'd say that's an adequate word." Ghila nodded, pleased with herself. "They raided my village first, so they had it coming."

Ghila was the first and foremost to storm into Astur's tent, so it was hard not to trust her.

I shot Holst a questioning look.

"Fine," he said. "Instructor Aravel, please memorize the numbers of your students' badges and meet us. We have a plan."

Ghila smiled.

"Of course you have a plan, you plotting library rat."

It wasn't hard to tell why Ghila liked Firana so much. In a sense, they seemed to be kindred spirits.

* * *

Planning the paths for almost forty cadets was nothing short of a Master's thesis in complexity. To be fair, I had no idea what Master's students did for their thesis, but this was a traveling salesman problem on steroids. Sure, I could identify my variables, and I knew I was in front of an optimization problem—if we found the minimal amount of paths that could be traveled within the time limit by the most amount of cadets at any time, we would have a good density of individuals in each part of the path—but I wasn't sure I knew enough math to solve it. My mind was full of rather simple geometry minimization problems, but nothing of the magnitude of this problem.

Vigdis Herran offered me a frozen piece of cloth, and I put it on my forehead, held in place by a mana hand. I felt like my brain was on fire. Finding the most traveled path was as easy as finding the most common pair of numbers on the cadets' badges; however, we needed to consider team constraints. Not only did the cadets have to travel the same path, but they had to do it at the same time.

Holst's method was simpler… and ruthless. He split the cadets into three groups: strong cadets, weak cadets, and fast cadets. Unsurprisingly, it turned out to be way easier to work with only a third of the variables. Strong cadets and fast cadets had leeway. Leonie, for instance, could probably win against a dropout, and Kili could get away without much trouble.

Working around the 'weak' cadets, those who were weaker in combat or had time-constrained routes, gave better results.

In my squad, Malkah was the one in greater danger. Not only did his combination of numbers create rather long pathways, but his powers wouldn't show in their full strength if he wasn't wounded. Wounded meant slow, and slow meant failing.

Ilya was working by my side. Despite not having as much math knowledge, her theory about heat maps was interesting. The cadets didn't have to travel the same pathway to meet; they could also meet in intersections and adjacent paths.

The cadets had jumped into the wagon surprisingly easily. Cabbage Class got along fine, but Holst's Basilisk Class and Ghila's Gaiarok Class didn't seem to have that kind of relationship. Still, everyone wanted to maximize their chances to pass, and although nobody said it and most of them tried to hide it, they were afraid.

The cadets had reached the same conclusion across the camp. Last year's dropouts were strong enough to pass the entrance exam, and they'd had a whole year to gather experience and level up. Imperial dropouts were still a valuable resource regardless of the time spent at the Academy. Most ended up working for famous merchant guilds or as the personal guards of lesser nobles.

Something was bothering me.

Was I going to be able to stop a fight and sentence the whole squad?

The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to strangle Astur—or at least key his carriage. Conversely, having a problem to work on was having a soothing effect on my mood. I felt less irritable than before. And we had enough personnel even with us five out of the picture.

"I'm sorry about earlier," Ilya suddenly said.

She remained focused on the list of numbers before her.

"It's fine," I replied, softly elbowing her shoulder. "I will not hide the cookies on the highest shelf, then."

Ilya rolled her eyes, but crawled next to me and continued working.

"You know your jokes are bad, right?"

"Then why are you smiling?"

I wondered if Firana had put an invisible Ward around me, because as soon as Ilya came close, her eyes shot up towards us. This time, however, she seemed to accept Ilya's closeness.

By nightfall, we had a sufficiently good solution for the cadet's pathing problem. Holst was scary smart. Although he didn't have the arithmetic tools, he had the intuition of the geometrician of old.

Working around the 'weaker' cadets had been the easiest method. Ilya even teased Holst, noting how much he had changed. Years ago, he would've let the weaker cadets fail. Surprisingly enough, Holst rolled with the punches.

"Enough for today. We need to be well-rested for tomorrow," I said, loud enough for the cadets who had been orbiting around us to go back to the communal tent.

The group dispersed, but I caught up to Leonie when nobody was watching.

The cadet's padded jacket was a Masterwork-rank armor created with a mix of high-quality fibers and magical materials. It provided as much protection as a non-enchanted garment could, but not enough to quell my worries. Their opponents, after all, would be unbound Lv.20s.

Considering Astur's threats, a bit of cheating wasn't out of the question.

"Leonie, bring the shirts of the whole squad to my tent. Discreetly."

The girl looked confused, so I covered my mouth with my hand and leaned next to her ear.

"I have a reinforcement spell that might be of use."

Leonie's eyes widened.

"I-I can't. That would be cheating!" she muttered.

"Yes, but Astur said he'd expel the entire squad if I or my former students got involved in the exam. I don't have a choice. If one of you ends up in danger, I won't be able to step in," I replied, turning around and returning to my shelter. "That's why I'm asking you to be the judge."

I couldn't see her, but I heard a long sigh and the footsteps of the girl walking in the opposite direction.

Contingency plans within contingency plans.

What Astur did not count on was our other helpers. Firana, Zaon, Ilya, Wolf, and I might have our hands tied, but we still had the other third-year students: the Wolfpack, the Rosethorn Squad, and the Black Basilisk Squad.

I returned to my shelter, satisfied with our work, only lamenting the fact that I couldn't arm the other squads in the team with enchanted shirts. I might be able to fool a bunch of teenagers, but Holst and Ghila would totally notice the 'fortifying spell' was really an enchantment.

I was deep in thought, wondering if I could convince the world I only had an exotic skill, like the Librarians of Byrne's Arcane Circle, so I didn't notice Ghila waiting by my shelter, backpack on her shoulder.

"Do a sister a favor, you have plenty of space inside there," Ghila said with an impish smile.

No wonder she hadn't bothered raising her own tent. She was a freeloader.

"No. I'm in a committed relationship."

"Come on, we are allies! I don't want to get bugs."

"And I don't want nasty rumors. I'm already on thin ice as it is."

Ghila sighed.

"Aight, gonna share space with this majestic beast," she said, sitting under the Bucko's overhanging roof.

To my surprise, Bucko didn't seem to have any problems with the woman's presence.

I massaged my temples. If Ghila remained there, she would see Leonie carrying the shirts. She could even peek to see me runeweaving.

"I guess we are allies, after all," I sighed.

Ghila jumped to her feet and pulled the fabric covering the entrance aside. I cleared my throat and pointed a few meters away from my shelter. Ghila smiled, and a moment later, a second stone shelter appeared out of nowhere. Many cadets' heads popped outside their tents to see what all the noise was about. [Minor Geokinesis] wasn't a subtle spell.

Ghila remained unconcerned about their angry glances.

"You are a lifesaver, Robert Clarke," she said, throwing her loose tent over the shelter to block the entrance.

Unbeknownst to her, I had intentionally placed her shelter facing away from mine.

I smiled and waved as she closed the makeshift curtain behind her.

As the cold wind from the mountain tops was blowing into the valley, I returned to my shelter. The stone was warm, and a couple of strategically placed Light Stones made the place feel surprisingly cozy.

Like clockwork, Leonie squeezed her head through the gap between the fabric and the stone. She dropped eleven shirts into the shelter and left without saying a word. I could read her expression, though. She wasn't comfortable with our small act of cheating.

"As expected of the daughter of a Knight…" I said, leaving the last syllable in the air. "...and a Fey."

I spied outside my shelter, feeding [Foresight] as much mana as I could without making me feel dizzy. Everyone was sleeping. I grabbed the first shirt. Considering the size, it was either Kili's or Rup's. I applied the Reinforce-Insulation effect with the Gradual trigger and the Absorption energy source. I also added an underpowered Conceal rune, which I had gotten from Byrne's documents, to make the enchantment less obvious.

I remembered when a five-rune string took me minutes to finish. Now, I could have them ready in a few seconds. Before I could continue thinking about Byrne, I grabbed the next shirt, which was dusty-brown instead of white.

"Weren't they traveling by cart? Why would someone roll on the ground?"

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