The sun was beginning to rise.
First thing in the morning, Vikir did as Hugo had instructed him at the banquet last night.
"Enter the Academy."
Hugo's tone was still blunt.
A sheet of paper was slid in front of Vikir.
It was a home letter announcing that the Academy was recruiting new students for the new semester.
Application submission: November 04, 19th year of the imperial calendar ~ November 26th, 19th year of the imperial calendar
Class period: 8 semesters (4 years)
Entrance date: January 1, 20th Imperial Year
Academy Colosseo. A large-scale collective educational institution in Imperial Rock.
It has a staggering number of students, over 7,000, and if you count the post-academy students, the number is over 20,000.
The number of faculty and staff alone reached 4,000.
Considered one of the greatest institutions of higher learning in the history of mankind, the Colosseo attracts students from many families, including the seven families that hold the Empire together.
Every noble young man in the Empire considers it a lifelong honor to be admitted, and indeed, graduates of the Academy have proudly served as elite members of the Imperial family and in the highest ranks of society.
From the first Emperor of Imperial Rock, most of the heads of the Seven Great Families have already graduated from the Academy, as well as billionaires of all kinds, heads of the largest guilds, renowned scholars, and other social leaders who hold top positions in politics, law, business, culture, media, academia, sports, and more.
The alumni network was already unrivaled in the empire and the most influential of all social groups.
"...."
Vikir stared down at the document in front of him.
Students at the Academy are not discriminated against during their four years here, admission and graduation are based solely on merit.
The majority of the Academy's students enter at the age of 20 and graduate at the age of 24, although there is some deviation.
Academy graduates are given the option of remaining in the Imperium and working for the Empire or returning to their original families.
Hugo had hoped to return home after the Academy, and his eldest son Osiris had followed the same path.
And Vikir, of course, intended to follow suit.
"I'll be back."
Vikir didn't hesitate to accept Hugo's offer.
He'd been to the academy before, before the regression.
'...Of course, I wasn't eligible for admission then.'
He had followed the students as a hound, escorting them to various services.
For the record, the Academy's first class of students were triplets: Highbrow, Midbrow, and Lowbrow.
Hugo nodded, then turned to Vikir.
"Do you have a brother who would like to come with you?"
The Academy had given the Baskervilles a certain number of seats at the Academy.
It's a kind of seed assignment, TO was vacated, but considering the brand and name value of the Baskervilles, it's natural.
Vikir didn't hesitate to answer.
"I want to go with my brothers to the Highbrow, Midbrow, and Lowbrow."
He had said this to Hugo before.
Hugo still rubbed his chin in disbelief, but then he was convinced.
"'Cause they're the only brothers in your row that's worth going with."
But Vikir didn't want to take the triplets for that reason alone.
Naturally, his mind wandered back to the end of yesterday's great banquet.
' ... It was unexpected.'
On his way to his bedroom, Vikir had gotten a visit from the triplets.
Sigh.
With a strange look of determination on their faces, they drew their swords and stood in his way, intent on exterminating him, who was in more ways than one.
To bury them, along with what happened in the depht two years ago.
But.
The triplets had a completely unexpected reaction.
…Shake!
All three knelt on their right knees in front of Vikir, heads bowed.
The tip of the drawn blade was resting on the instep of their right foot, and the tip of the handle was pointed at Vikir.
If the Vikir reached out and pressed, their swords would go straight through their own insteps.
It was an act of surrendering one's life to the other, or in dog terms, lying down on one's stomach.
"What are you doing?"
Vikir asked in disbelief.
Why would the knights of the Empire make such a vow to him, a vow that is only made when they meet their destined masters?
The triplets answered.
"We wish to repay you with our lives."
"I will."
"I will."
Their reasoning was, in retrospect, quite surprising.
The triplets had been afraid of Vikir ever since he had beaten them when they were nine years old.
That fear became recognition when Vikir hunted Cerberus, and respect when Vikir killed a troll in a single blow.
And finally. Madame of the Depht.
The moment Vikir unleashed the Graduator's aura on the massive creature that loomed like death itself.
The triplets' feelings toward Vikir changed once more.
A sense of reverence. Respect.
The kind of ambivalent feelings that humans have when they encounter a genius they can never surpass.
The triplets were rescued that day, carried on the backs of their guardian knights, and saw their own powerlessness in the face of Vikir's sun-blazing strength.
And on that day, the day they barely escaped with their lives. The three of them gathered together and vowed in unison.
"From this day forward, we are the Trident of Vikir.
To repay the debt of their lives that day.
From then on, the triplets never spoke of Vikir.
Not even about the ridiculous status he had displayed two years earlier.
And two years later, when Vikir returned alive, he never said that the achievements he showed had not grown at all compared to two years ago.
They were aware. They knew that Vikir had already been a Intermediate Graduator two years ago, and that in the past two years, he had grown stronger than ever.
But even so, they kept their master's secret.
'....'
Vikir stroked his chin silently.
Born to be hounds, the trio needed a master to obey.
Their skill and loyalty had been proven in their last life.
Before his regression, they had threatened and driven him more than anything else.
Vikir stopped reminiscing and looked at Hugo.
"How many other squires can I take with me?"
"As you wish."
Hugo nodded readily.
Vikir nodded silently.
In the past, Vikir had also lived within the Academy as a squire, assisting with the admission of new students to the Academy.
Squires rotate through the academy on a semesterly basis to assist their families' entrants.
His duties as an aide consisted of little more than escorting and running errands.
It was a typical knight's squire role.
Vikir had entered the Academy as a squire of the Highbrow, Midbrow, and Lowbrow before his regression.
It was nice to look over his shoulder and listen to the Academy's lessons, but other than that, it was all dull and tiring.
He had to run errands such as washing clothes, preparing materials for performance evaluations, memorizing timetables and meal plans, sometimes escorting, sometimes settling disputes, sometimes being a dueling opponent, and even delivering love letters.
'There was a lot of persecution back then.'
When he returned home, he had seen so many harsh scenes that his face was covered in scars and his legs were limp.
Is that why? The fine-bred noble sons and daughters of the academy would scowl and show their disdain whenever they saw Vikir, who came to serve as a quarterly squire.
'Well, it doesn't matter. You're not going to the academy to learn anything anyway.'
Vikir wanted to join the Academy for two reasons.
First, to get off Hugo's radar and build his power.
Second, to take care of the "black list" he'd compiled before his regression.
It occurred to him that he might have to wear the Night Hound mask he'd kept sealed away for so long.
Then. Hugo spoke up.
"That's all for now. You may leave now."
When Hugo had said all he had to say, he called for a celebration.
But.
There was one thing left for Vikir to do: make a deal with Hugo.
Instead of walking away, Vikir raised his head toward Hugo.
"Father. There is something I would like to ask you."
"...?"
It was unusual for Vikir to ask for something first, so Hugo looked interested.
Then, as if to double-check, Vikir asked Hugo a question.
"I understand that my disappearance two years ago has greatly benefited the Main House in its diplomacy with the Morg."
Hugo nodded at Vikir's straightforward statement.
Vikir continued.
"And my father has told me that he is rewarding me for this."
"That's right. I said I'd reward you appropriately, but we're still discussing that."
Vikir's accomplishment was so great that a modest reward would not clearly recognize it.
Hugo was considering it, but Bikir spoke up first.
"I want that reward now."
"Hmm. Do you want something?"
It was also unusual for Vikir to want something first.
Hugo looked at his son's face in front of him with a gleam in his eye.
And then. Vikir's mouth opened.
"What I want is for you to answer my question, Father, honestly."
"...?"
Hugo's brow furrowed slightly.
It was a demand that could be offensive to some.
Hugo opened his mouth.
"I don't understand the question."
"Then I'll ask it with your permission."
Vikir looked Hugo in the eye and asked in a much more direct manner than Hugo had.
"What was your relationship with the late First Lady, the Marquise de Roxana?"
Hugo's entire body went rigid.
Is this the expression of a dragon that has been stabbed in the back?
Extreme agitation. Hugo is reacting in a way I've never seen before.
"...What are you trying to do?"
Hugo's voice became extremely cold.
A terrifying chill, a cold aura, radiated from his entire body.
But Vikir was unfazed.
He didn't flinch, despite the fact that all the intimacy and rapport he'd built up to this point was collapsing.
Hugo opened his mouth.
"Get out."
"...."
"Forget about the Academy, it's a blank slate."
Hugo threw up his hands.
It had never happened before in his life that he'd let his emotions get the better of him like this.
But Vikir was still in his face.
"I understand that your admission to the Academy has been canceled."
"...."
"But the trade gains my family made from my disappearance two years ago cannot be canceled."
That meant he'd better answer quickly.
Hugo gave Vikir a look of irritation he'd never seen before.
"What the hell do you want an answer to!"
"It's a question."
Vikir said, still in an even tone.
"What did you think of the Marquise de Roxana?"
The Pomeranian's smiling face floated around in Vikir's mind.
What would Hugo's reaction be if he learned of the existence of a granddaughter he hadn't even known existed?
Would he be as displeased as he was now? Most likely, he would.
'...because he's a man without blood or tears.'
The first wife he met through an arranged marriage, the eldest daughter born with her and kidnapped by the natives, and the granddaughter of mixed native blood.
Vikir had already run through 365 different scenarios in her head of how Hugo would react to the discovery of the Pomeranian's existence.
And in every case, she had made arrangements to benefit herself and the Pomeranians.
...?
Hugo began by saying something that wasn't in any of Vikir's 365 plans.
"She was the only woman I ever loved in my entire life."