Doggone Academy

“Wow… split right in half.”

Knights, having come to investigate, kicked at the beast’s carcass strewn inside the cave.

“How is this even possible?”

The beast’s hide is usually so tough that a sword might as well be stuck in stone, yet the beast slain by Damian was cleanly cut as if by a guillotine.

A female knight beside them remarked,

“How would we know? Even Liston, who was there, doesn’t understand how it happened.”

“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t Liston know if he saw it happen?”

“He said there was a flash of light, and then it was over. He was blinded by the light and saw nothing.”

“Could it be sword energy?”

“What else could it be?”

“At his age?”

“Or perhaps magic.”

“Sword energy doesn’t make sense. Magic seems more plausible.”

“How could magic cut it like this? Did he summon a saw blade or something?”

“Does such magic even exist?”

“Probably not.”

“But if he can handle sword energy like this at such a young age….”

The potential he would reach upon full maturity was unimaginable. If he were to fully utilize his talent within the Duchy, its impact could extend not only within but also beyond its borders.

The most esteemed Knight Orders and Academies would take notice of Damian, and most importantly,

“The Floral Tournament is going to be turned upside down soon.”

***

The camp was packed up, and it was time to depart again. I was no longer sharing paths with the maids. Instead, I could steal glimpses of the Lady’s daily routine.

Before leaving, Vivi addressed the village chief,

“The beast will trouble you no longer.”

Tears welled up in the chief’s eyes,

“Thank you, truly, for looking after us, the humble folks.”

“My two guards will accompany you to Rigved, assisting with your relocation.”

“We will never forget this kindness.”

The chief motioned to a villager, who then presented a long wooden cup to the Lady.

It was filled with a thick, purple liquid of unknown composition.

The villager’s arms trembled, perhaps nervous.

Vivi inquired,

“What is this?”

“It’s a concoction made from the last of our crops and herbs, mixed with a traditional essence passed down through generations. It’s supposed to maintain a clear spirit and body.”

The old wooden cup was strangely familiar to me, reminiscent of my childhood.

Despite being made from the scraps they had, the contents were somewhat repellent. The unknown ingredients and floating debris didn’t seem sanitary.

Living secluded from the world, they seemed unaware that it was improper to offer food or drink to a superior without caution.

Could there be some toxin or strange substance mixed in? How could one be sure?

Gerald stepped forward,

“The Lady does not consume just any herb. Is this a marketplace to you? Remove it.”

“No, it’s fine.”

Vivi walked forward and took the cup.

“Milady, maybe we should call a maid to inspect—”

Before Gerald could finish, Vivi downed the unpleasant liquid.

The watching guards and maids were shocked.

Even I wouldn’t have considered drinking such a concoction, yet Vivi did it without hesitation.

The chief and villager smiled innocently, pleased.

How could Vivi trust so easily?

Was she not afraid of death? Or did she think her life was disposable?

Whether the taste was terrible or not, Vivi only scrunched her face but thankfully did not vomit blood or collapse.

Gerald’s expression twisted with worry, and a maid who arrived late nervously wiped Vivi’s mouth with a handkerchief.

Vivi’s reckless behavior was somewhat impressive.

Could the dreams really signify a conspiracy? If Vivi herself was so indifferent to death, was there a need to go through the trouble of eliminating her?

It was a matter worth deeper contemplation.

***

The Duchy’s guard began their official journey towards Barvisia.

Now, rather than riding in the rear carriage, I had to walk beside the Lady’s carriage. Vivi seemed uncomfortable accepting me, keeping the carriage window firmly shut and not speaking a word to me the entire journey. I received orders only from Gerald and the First Unit Captain, Fenril.

The monotonous journey led us to pitch camp early in the evening at a fringe village called Midfence, located at the edge of the Barvisia region.

Some travel logs described Barvisia as a dreadful place filled with sinking mud, aquatic monsters, fog laden with gas, leeches, mosquitoes, and vipers, but the Barvisia I encountered was nothing like I had imagined.

Instead of sinking mud and fog, it was sunny. Butterflies flew around, and the village fences were adorned with red flowers, releasing a refreshing scent with every step. It was a beautiful region, brimming with the essence of spring.

Maybe it was just the outskirts, or I had checked the map wrong, so I asked an old man drying herbs at the village entrance.

“I’ve heard it rains half the month in Barvisia. Yet, it’s quite sunny and beautiful.”

“In the dry season, it’s the most beautiful land in the world.”

According to settlers, the environment remains sunny and warm like now during the dry season; but once the rainy season begins, it transforms into the hellish place described in books.

The dreaded rainy season was still about a month away.

Sensibly, no one would attempt to cross Barvisia during the rainy season.

Despite being nearly isolated from the outside world, the settlers were warm and welcoming to outsiders.

The old man smiled contentedly, adding,

“You’ve come at a good time, a very good time. You’ve arrived just before the sacred festival that showers blessings over all of Barvisia.”

“…The sacred festival?”

***

The first task in washing feet was fetching water.

But not just any water would do. Ordinary stream water was forbidden; even if it looked clean, a dead animal could be upstream, contaminating it. Only pure and fresh water drawn from underground sources was acceptable for washing feet.

Why such exacting conditions for mere foot washing was beyond me. Moreover, there was another astonishing luxury involved.

Gerald placed a silver container on the table.

“What’s this?”

“First, you must learn to ask fewer questions.”

The tone wasn’t so much reprimanding me as it was sharing know-how.

“I need to know what I’m handling, at least.”

“It’s holy water flown directly from the Holy City. Dilute three drops into a bucket of pure water, then use it to wash the feet.”

Such extravagance for just feet washing was unparalleled among the nobility I’d observed.

Even during my time in the temple, holy water was so scarce we only got to taste a few drops in bread during significant ceremonies.

But something was odd. Was Vivi really that indulgent and flamboyant? Upon reflection, not to that extent.

“Does the Lady require holy water for foot washing?”

“Your only task is to wash the Lady’s feet cleanly. There’s no need for you to know more.”

There might be a compelling reason for using holy water.

The advice to ask fewer questions could suggest the holy water is tied to some sensitive issue about the Lady, perhaps a hereditary illness passed down through generations.

If it wasn’t just a matter of luxury, then perhaps it was related to a curse. I felt closer to uncovering Vivi’s secret.

“Thank you for the advice.”

Gerald, his task seemingly complete, turned and left without another word.

***

Someone approached the Lady’s tent, and amidst the sound of sloshing water, Damian’s voice could be heard,

“I’ve come to assist with the foot washing.”

Vivi briefly closed her eyes. It was an unwelcome time.

“Come in.”

Damian entered with a bucket of water and set it down in front of the chair where Vivi sat.

“As requested, I’ve added three drops of holy water and diluted it.”

“…”

“Please, present your feet.”

His casual demeanor in serving incited my anger.

Why did he suddenly want to wash feet? Did Silveryn know her disciple had such twisted desires?

The lack of hesitation or caution around the Duchy’s successor was infuriating.

Vivi lifted the book she was reading to cover her face.

Damian quietly began washing Vivi’s feet, thoroughly cleaning every nook.

Then he cautiously asked,

“May I inquire why the holy water is used?”

“Holy water makes one feel special. There’s no other reason.”

“You are blessed, my Lady. But the blessed do not need holy water. Only those cursed require it.”

“I’m not interested in baseless preaching.”

“I’ll wipe your feet dry now. Please, lift them.”

Damian prepared a towel and waited.

Vivi, feigning distraction by her reading, purposefully pressed her wet foot against Damian’s face.

Damian’s eyebrows twitched in displeasure, a rare show of emotion from the usually stoic man.

After inflicting this small humiliation, I felt slightly appeased. She asked nonchalantly,

“Oh, I have a question for you.”

“I shall answer as best as I can within my permitted knowledge.”

“How did you kill the beast?”

As he dried her feet, Damian explained,

“I simply did it because my life was in danger.”

Damian finished drying and started massaging her feet with scented oil.

Cunning as he was, he seemed to take his revenge by applying an excessive amount of slippery oil, particularly to the soles of her feet.

“Is that the whole truth?”

“That is all.”

“What does it feel like to have such a gift? To receive such a blessing?”

Damian stood up after completing the foot washing ritual and said something unexpected,

“…I despise the gods.”

Silence fell.

His statement caused a subtle ripple inside Vivi.

His voice seemed to ring an alarm in her mind.

How often had she heard someone express hatred towards the gods? The Gainax family and the Duchy revered the goddess Acates, with the Holy City being part of their nation. She had never heard anyone dare to speak such blasphemy before her.

Even Vivi herself wouldn’t dare.

Yet, he spoke without hesitation.

It was just a passing comment, but for a fleeting moment, it seemed to reveal his true feelings.

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

After washing her feet, Damian picked up the bucket and left the tent.

Vivi stared blankly at the spot where Damian had been.

She wondered about the reasons behind his godly hatred. What could make someone so gifted despise the gods?

She felt an inexplicable kinship with him. Though she didn’t want to admit it,

Vivi also hated the gods.

People might love the gods without reason, but hatred always has its stories.