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Many students of the Imperial Academy commute by carriage, beast cart, or dragon-drawn coach—especially those from noble families—but only those of marquess rank or higher, or those granted special permission by the Academy, may have their vehicles pull up directly to the main building.
Those of count rank or below must disembark at the front gate and walk to their classrooms from there.

When I first enrolled, I walked too. But at some point, I began sharing Luke’s carriage, and naturally, that meant we would ride straight up to the building.

Personally, the distance from Letindüte to the Academy is only about five kilomertes, and since the road is flat with no monsters or bandits, I honestly think walking would be fine.
But when I suggested that, people cried out:
“If you do that, the city will be in chaos!!” “The crowd would crush itself trying to get close—there’d be riots, trampling, and deaths for sure!” “One walk from you and the capital’s entire urban system would collapse! Please don’t!!”
And so, I was made to commute by carriage.

How fragile the Central Capital Cilento is—that it becomes dysfunctional just because one girl walks!

In any case, after various circumstances, I have now been granted permission by the Academy to bring my carriage in even without Luke accompanying me.
Not that it matters much—ever since we returned to the current era, there hasn’t been a single day Luke hasn’t gone to and from school with me.

Now, three days have passed since Branch Master Eraldo arrived from Consul.
Surprisingly, the capital remains peaceful. The attack on Frontier Count Aulanthia seems to have settled down too; the Aulanthia family issued an official statement saying, “The lord was gravely injured but his life is not in danger, and he is currently recuperating.”

“If he’s seriously injured, shouldn’t there have been a request sent to me through the Church for healing?”
Wondering about that, I asked the Grand Temple in Cilento via Cestlavie.

“For now, there’s no such request. Actually, the Guildmaster old man and your butler have teamed up and have been debating fiercely with the head Shrine maiden and the Chief Cleric all day long. Everyone’s too busy to think about anything else.”
“Curtiss too? I heard he’s been negotiating with the Guild lately, but I didn’t know he’d gone as far as invading the Church.”
“The debate’s about who gets priority when hiring you, and how to divide the payment. Basically, every side’s desperate to get the biggest slice of the pie.”
“You say that as if it has nothing to do with you, *Father Cestlavie*.”
“Well, for a low-ranking priest like me, it really doesn’t. *Shrine Maiden Jill*.”
“ “Fu fu fu fu fu fu!!” “

Smiles collided. Lana, who had just opened the door to serve tea, froze—then quietly closed it again.

And so, life seemed peaceful enough on the surface. This morning too, Luke and I shared our usual carriage ride to the Academy’s main hall. But when we arrived, the front was blocked by another carriage—or rather, a beast cart drawn by a wildasher.
For the record, wildashers are a land-dwelling turtle-like monster. Slower than a cow, but far stronger—one can pull the weight of ten horses.

“Ugh, of all things, a slow wildasher in front of us? This could take forever! It’s unthinkable to keep Lady Clara and His Highness waiting! I’ll go tell them to move aside at once!”

My maid for today, Coppelia, was already half-standing, looking ready to *literally* kick the cart out of the way.
“Now, now, there’s still plenty of time,” I soothed her. “And since we’re the ones who came later, it can’t be helped,” added Luke.

In truth, there was no rush, and if they were allowed to pull up this close, their family must also be of high rank. No need to stir up unnecessary trouble.

That peaceful thought was shattered by one of Luke’s attendants.

“Your Highness, the guards have confirmed that the beast cart ahead belongs to House Aulanthia. The passenger appears to be Princess Syltianna.”
“!!!??”

I somehow managed to swallow my shock and keep a calm face.
Glancing toward Luke, I saw mild surprise on his face, but no particular emotion or attachment toward “Princess Syltianna.”

Feeling both great relief and a small twinge of disappointment, I heard him say, tilting his head,
“That’s rare… or maybe this is the first time I’ll actually meet her as a schoolmate?”

“I suppose so. I heard she spent most of last year on leave, so this might be her first public appearance in nearly a year.”

I agreed, then quietly added, “Just like me.”

“I heard she’s long been suffering from knee pain. Perhaps she’s feeling a little better now? If so, that would be quite a godsent—in the literal sense.”

Luke spoke with a tone suggesting he didn’t quite believe that optimistic outcome. His attendant—whom I later learned was the second son of an Imperial Count—respectfully added,

“From what I can see, she’s having great difficulty even getting out of the beast cart. I’d say recovery is far off. Most likely, this outing is just to show the world that ‘House Aulanthia still stands strong.’ However…”

He didn’t finish the sentence aloud, but his thoughts were clear: *Parading the ‘Ragweed Princess’ around like this only heaps more shame on them—it’s backfiring.*

The mocking gazes of onlookers, their unspoken laughter—I could almost hear it.
So much so that I pressed my hands over my ears and crouched down.

“Jill, what’s—”

Luke had just turned toward me in alarm when the beast cart of House Aulanthia opened. From within stepped a young woman, perhaps in her mid-twenties, with brunette hair—I recalled her name as Zoé Bastia, the head maid.

She moved gracefully as she descended—a plain-looking woman, but much like Luke’s attendant, likely of noble birth herself. After all, royal and high noble maids are typically young ladies from noble families, serving both as training in etiquette and as preparation for marriage.
Though dressed in a maid’s uniform for mobility, the shimmer at her chest revealed a costly brooch (that gleam—a magistone, surely). The hair ornament and silver ring she wore were also stunningly intricate upon closer inspection.

Ignoring the murmurs around her, she calmly operated a metallic controller (I don’t know its formal name, but that’s what I call it) and *thud!* The seemingly solid beast wagon sank to one side. Then came a hiss of steam—*pshh! psh-psh!*—and from the lowered door emerged a massive, (horizontally clumsy) suit of metal armor gleaming under the sunlight—A Magi-Armor.

“Woooooooooooooooooooooaaaaahhhhhh!?!?!”