Chapter 239: Back to Holy Trinity [3]

By the following morning, Ilya Valentinovich Belozersky had discovered something rather unfortunate.

Tristan Bellacourt was enjoying himself.

The heir to the Southern Grand Duchy had always been proud of his abilities, but yesterday’s victory appeared to have improved his mood beyond all expectations. He greeted Ilya outside the lecture hall with the pleasant expression of a man who had finally settled an old debt.

"Good morning, Belozersky. I trust you’ve recovered from yesterday’s defeat?"

"Physically, yes. My pride may require another week."

"Then I suggest making good use of that time."

"How thoughtful of you."

Tristan smiled and continued toward his classroom, apparently satisfied with the exchange.

Ilya watched him leave.

The bastard was getting comfortable.

Still, he couldn’t complain. Tristan had won their engagement fairly, identifying a weakness in his mana circulation and exploiting it before Ilya could correct his defenses. His victory had been earned through preparation and good judgment.

In fact, Ilya had spent much of the previous evening thinking about the match.

The problem lay in how his three currents of cold mana followed the same circulation pattern. Maintaining them required little concentration, but whenever he adjusted their direction, the central formation became vulnerable for a brief interval.

Tristan had noticed that interval after only a few exchanges.

Ilya could increase the speed of his circulation, but doing so would consume more mana and demand greater attention. Improving one aspect of the technique at the expense of its efficiency seemed like a poor bargain.

A better solution was to stagger the currents so that their vulnerable intervals never overlapped.

He already had a few ideas worth testing.

Unfortunately, his afternoon schedule had been claimed by someone with far greater authority than the Southern Grand Duke’s heir.

A letter from Liselotte had arrived at the Belozersky residence that morning, written in the elegant handwriting of the Imperial Princess.

Most of it contained the usual courtesies expected between members of the nobility.

The final sentence, however, was another matter.

*Do try to remember that you have a fiancée, my little snowflake.*

Ilya had stared at those words for a while before folding the letter.

Apparently, Liselotte had decided that their engagement entitled her to a permanent supply of embarrassing nicknames.

Considering that she had already announced their relationship before an entire classroom, he supposed a private letter was an improvement.

He accepted the invitation.

Their meeting took place in the western gardens after the afternoon lectures. Liselotte had arranged for tea beneath one of the stone pavilions, where the surrounding trees offered some privacy from the students passing through the nearby walkways.

Her attendants remained within sight, though far enough away to avoid overhearing their conversation.

"Lord Ilya. How wonderful of you to come."

"Your Highness. I would hardly dare ignore an Imperial summons."

"Oh? I don’t recall issuing a summons."

"The wording was polite. The consequences were implied."

Liselotte laughed behind her teacup.

"You’re learning."

That was what concerned him.

The youngest Imperial Princess had proven remarkably skilled at getting her way while maintaining the appearance of perfect innocence. She could make an unreasonable request sound like a generous favor and leave the other person wondering how they had agreed to it.

Ilya respected the talent.

He would have appreciated it more if he weren’t so frequently on the receiving end.

Their conversation began with ordinary academy matters. Liselotte had settled into her studies and was already familiar with several instructors, although her position meant that even simple activities attracted more attention than necessary.

She didn’t seem particularly troubled by it.

Having grown up in the Imperial Palace, she was accustomed to people watching her every move. The academy merely offered a different audience.

"I heard Lord Bellacourt defeated you yesterday," she mentioned.

Ilya sighed.

"Has someone been distributing copies of the results?"

"Would you like me to request one?"

"Please don’t."

"Hehe. Then I suppose I’ll have to rely on what I’ve heard."

Apparently, several students had witnessed the engagement, and Tristan’s victory had become a popular topic among those following the upcoming assessments.

Liselotte seemed especially entertained by the idea that Ilya had finally encountered someone capable of making him lose.

"Should I attend your next match?" she asked.

"You’re welcome to, although I can’t promise anything spectacular."

"How disappointing. I was hoping to see my fiancé distinguish himself."

"Then I recommend lowering your expectations. It makes pleasant surprises much easier to arrange."

"My, how modest."

Her smile widened.

Ilya suspected that whatever happened during the assessments, Liselotte would find some way to entertain herself at his expense.

Fortunately, their conversation soon moved to Professor Chastellain.

The princess had heard about the professor’s return to SkyRune and wanted to know whether his health was improving. Ilya explained that Antoine had resumed limited responsibilities under his physician’s supervision.

He also mentioned the educational program the professor was preparing in Lucile’s memory.

Liselotte listened with interest.

"A school for young inventors?"

"A small program at first. SkyRune already possesses most of the equipment, so the professor hopes to begin with supervised lessons and practical demonstrations."

"How lovely. I imagine many children would enjoy that."

"Assuming the governing board approves it."

Liselotte considered the matter before suggesting that the program might eventually attract private patrons.

She offered no immediate intervention, understanding that an Imperial Princess attaching her name to an unfinished proposal could create unnecessary pressure.

Ilya appreciated that.

For all her teasing, Liselotte possessed a good understanding of political boundaries. She knew when her position could be useful and when exercising that influence would complicate matters.

Their conversation eventually turned toward the Belozersky household.

"Speaking of family, how is Lady Anastasiya?" Liselotte asked.

Ilya immediately became suspicious.

"Why?"

"Must I have a reason to ask about my future sister-in-law?"

"Knowing you, I’d prefer to establish one."

Liselotte laughed.

Their previous meeting had apparently left a lasting impression on her. Anastasiya, on the other hand, had seemed less enthusiastic about acquiring an Imperial Princess as a future relative.

Ilya couldn’t blame either of them.

His sister possessed enough pride to challenge a royal decree if she considered it unreasonable, while Liselotte seemed to regard provoking proud individuals as an enjoyable pastime.

Putting the two together had been an educational experience.

"She’s been busy," Ilya answered. "Family affairs have been demanding most of her attention."

"I imagine so. She’ll inherit an enormous responsibility someday."

"She already treats it like she has."

Liselotte smiled, although she didn’t press further.

Anastasiya’s responsibilities as the future Grand Duchess were widely understood among the aristocracy. The private disputes occupying House Belozersky, however, were another matter.

Ilya had no intention of discussing them over tea.

Besides, his relationship with Anastasiya was complicated enough without introducing an enthusiastic third party.

The princess appeared to recognize his reluctance.

"Well, I hope we’ll have another opportunity to meet. Your sister is quite interesting."

"Please don’t tell her that."

"Why ever not?"

"She’ll assume you’re planning something."

"And would she be wrong?"

Ilya decided not to answer.

Liselotte seemed delighted.

Before their meeting ended, she extracted a promise that he would accompany her to another gathering later that week. The arrangements were reasonable, and he had no particular objection to spending time with his fiancée.

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she had secured everything she wanted from the afternoon.

That was probably how successful diplomacy worked.

After leaving the gardens, Ilya made his way toward the training grounds.

Professor Hakon Vinter had agreed to supervise another session, and Ilya wanted to test the adjustments he had considered following his defeat.

He explained the problem before establishing three currents of cold mana around the practice formation.

Rather than circulating simultaneously, each current followed the same pattern with a slight delay. The arrangement allowed him to redirect one without disturbing the others.

Hakon observed the technique before activating a practice construct.

The first exchange went well.

Ilya redirected the construct’s attack while maintaining his formation, then attempted to interfere with its approach using the remaining currents.

Unfortunately, the second attack arrived before he could restore their synchronization.

One current dispersed.

"You’re making the pattern more complicated than necessary," Hakon observed.

Ilya examined the remaining traces of mana.

His instructor was right. He had tried to control three independent sequences when a single repeated cycle with fixed intervals would accomplish the same purpose.

He adjusted the formation and tried again.

This time, the currents moved through a common circulation pattern, each following the previous one after a short delay. Ilya could maintain the sequence without constantly calculating their individual positions.

The construct attacked.

He redirected the outer current, maintained the central formation, and used the remaining mana to interfere with its next movement.

The technique held.

Hakon increased the construct’s speed, forcing Ilya to react more quickly. After several exchanges, he managed to disrupt its defensive formation without losing control of his currents.

"Better," Hakon said. "Practice maintaining that sequence until you can do it while concentrating on something else."

Ilya agreed.

The technique still needed refinement, but he had addressed the weakness Tristan exploited without sacrificing its efficiency.

He had even found a practical application for the principles he studied at SkyRune.

There was something satisfying about turning research conducted during an Imperial emergency into a method of annoying a competitive nobleman.

By the time his training ended, the afternoon sun had begun descending beyond the academy’s western towers.

Ilya encountered Vera Adelheid near the courtyard entrance.

His senior was seated beneath an old tree, a half-finished cigarette resting between her fingers. She appeared to be enjoying the quiet, although Ilya had learned that Vera could look entirely relaxed while paying attention to things nobody else had noticed.

"Oh? Look who finally remembered he has classes."

"Good evening, Senior."

"How’s the professor?"

"Recovering. Doctor Valmont has him following a treatment schedule."

"Good."

Vera offered no further comment on Antoine’s condition. She had already heard enough about the Saint Aurelia affair, and Ilya appreciated that she didn’t turn the subject into another interrogation.

Instead, her attention shifted toward the lingering cold mana surrounding his hands.

"Training?"

"I’ve been improving my control."

"Without nearly freezing yourself to death this time?"

"I’ve made some progress."

"You’d better have."

Her answer carried enough familiarity that Ilya almost laughed.

Vera had personally witnessed some of his worst encounters with Niflheim. She had every reason to doubt his judgment whenever he experimented with its power.

He briefly explained his latest technique, including Tristan’s victory and the adjustments he made afterward.

Vera listened before offering a simple observation.

"If you’re going to rely on a fixed pattern, make sure you can abandon it whenever something goes wrong."

"Hakon said something similar."

"Then listen to him. He’s getting paid to teach you."

"Unlike you?"

Vera gave him a flat look.

"Careful, Ilya. I can start charging."

Considering how much he owed her already, that was a frightening possibility.

Ilya wisely changed the subject.

They spoke for a while about ordinary academy matters before Vera announced that she had somewhere to be. As usual, she offered no explanation of her plans, and Ilya saw little reason to demand one.

He wished her a pleasant evening and continued toward the residential district.

On his way, he stopped by the Magic Department’s administrative office to examine the finalized assessment schedule.

The first exercises would begin in three days, followed by controlled engagements under instructor supervision.

Students were also permitted to nominate practice partners during the preparation period.

That suited him.

Ilya requested a sheet of writing paper and prepared a short invitation.

[Lord Bellacourt,

Following our previous engagement, I’ve made several adjustments to my technique. If your schedule permits, I’d appreciate another opportunity to test them.]

He considered adding a remark about Tristan’s temporary victory, but decided against it.

The nobleman would recognize the invitation as a challenge without further encouragement.

Ilya arranged for the letter to be delivered through the academy’s correspondence service before continuing home.

He had three days left before the assessments, and several techniques still needed work.

As for Tristan, Ilya suspected the Southern Grand Duke’s heir would be more than happy to provide another lesson.

Naturally, he intended to return the favor.