“Huh?”
Kyle D’Baicia tilted his head slightly at the sudden question from Adrian Heather.
“You interested in joining Ordinace?”
Since applications were always welcome, Kyle gave a sincere answer to the new student’s question.
“The club’s basic activity budget is tiny. All social clubs at the academy get exactly 100 Tilons a month—same across the board.”
“……”
That’s… a lot less than I expected.
Adrian was too stunned by the paltry sum of 100 Tilons to respond. Seeing that, Kyle chuckled softly and continued.
“What? Too little? That’s just the base budget. On top of that, there’s the performance bonus.”
“Really?”
At the mention of “performance bonus,” a spark lit up in Adrian’s eyes again. Just hearing the term stirred up intense curiosity. Kyle raised a finger and went on with the explanation.
“All supplementary profits from things like published herbal formulas or advanced elemental spellbooks under the name of Ordinace are paid out directly to the student who created them.”
He leaned back comfortably in his chair, broad-shouldered and relaxed.
“It’s a whole different game compared to stingy magic department clubs like Amber or the Hounds and those admin faculty types who just live off their fixed stipends.”
Pretty impressive, right? Kyle proudly bragged about Ordinace’s perks.
Listening in, Hans silently muttered to himself, “Look at this guy—completely leaving out the arts faculty clubs.” Adrian wasted no time cutting to his main question.
“So, other clubs don’t have this kind of system?”
“Of course not!”
Kyle flashed Adrian a smug smile.
“Amber splits their profits from a mana charging station among members. But how much can you really make just charging mana on campus? Sure, it’s stable income, but that’s all it is. And those guys are such diehard magic zealots that they end up spending every cent of their paycheck buying more mana!”
Just recalling those “magic zealots” made him shudder as if something had crawled up his spine.
Wait a minute. I’ve seen this scene before, haven’t I?
Adrian rewound his memory briefly, recalling Professor Edwin Nollen’s story from their first alchemy class. Apparently, even centuries ago when dragons came to meddle in mortal affairs for fun, alchemy and magic were already at odds—and nothing had changed since.
“As for the administration faculty, well, they’re the ones managing the Tilons, so their pay isn’t the problem. I heard those guys are constantly swamped even during exam season just trying to balance their monthly books.”
“That’s actually true.”
Hans, who had been quietly listening, nodded emphatically at Kyle’s words.
“……What about the Hounds?”
Tired of the irrelevant talk about Amber and the admin folks, Mikhail spoke up with a sharp question.
“The Hounds? Well… that’s… I mean, His Highness Alix used to be the head of the Hounds, right? The year he was in charge, those guys’ egos inflated like crazy.”
At the sudden mention of His Highness Alix, a few members of Ordinace briefly glanced over at Mikhail, who was sitting at the table with a blank expression, then quickly looked away.
Alix de Inehart—Mikhail’s eldest brother and a graduate of Basamiel—was currently the first in line to inherit the throne of the Kingdom of Rustavaran.
Mikhail let out a short scoff at the reaction. Predictable. A guy who doesn’t give a damn about knighthood joining the Hounds? Clearly, it was just a strategy to build his own faction within the academy.
“They’re busy too, I guess. The Hounds handle petty disputes between students on campus. Honestly, if you look at their pay, it’s more of an honorary position than anything else. Clubs like Ordinace that can strike it rich overnight are rare in Basamiel.”
Since Kyle was only painting the best possible picture, someone listening in from a distance mumbled quietly.
“Yeah, but you also have to manage the herb garden every day. Hey, Kyle, you should mention the downsides too.”
Apparently, this member still had a bit of a conscience left—unlike Kyle.
“Ah, that’s the kind of thing you can find out after you join.”
Kyle shrugged it off like it was no big deal. Still locked on Adrian, who was listening intently, he gestured with his eyes.
“So? What do you think?”
“Sounds like a very appealing system to me.”
Kyle nodded, clearly pleased with Adrian’s confident demeanor. He found the freshman across the table quite to his liking.
Hmm… Still, this was a proper social club of Basamiel, so some formalities had to be observed—though, of course, those “formalities” pretty much came down to whatever Kyle, as Ordinace’s representative, decided.
“So, do you know much about herbs?”
The Gold Dragon mulled it over briefly, then mentioned a few herbs he used to manage back in his lair.
“……I’ve cultivated Lipin Leaves and Bryce Berries to top-grade quality before.”
“What? Those finicky things?”
A student who had been slouched in the corner suddenly burst into the conversation, shouting in surprise at Adrian’s answer. Kyle, as if it were the natural reaction, gave a small nod and tapped his fingers lightly on the table.
After a brief moment of thought, the man grinned broadly at Adrian.
“Alright. Adrian Heather, you’re in. Starting tomorrow, come here after classes.”
“Yes.”
The Gold Dragon gave a light nod.
Kyle stared intently at the prince, who had been quietly listening to the entire exchange from his seat beside Adrian.
“Prince—”
He began to speak but then suddenly seemed to recall the new student’s status, and asked,
“…Should I call you ‘Your Highness’ or what?”
“Just call me Mikhail.”
Ever since entering the academy, Mikhail had more or less set aside his title, so he gave a light shrug, unconcerned. His royal status wasn’t what mattered to him.
“So, Mikhail, you’re joining the Hounds, right?”
At that, Mikhail frowned.
Just because he aspired to be a knight didn’t mean he had to join the knight faculty’s social club. But everyone just assumed it, like it was a given. On top of that, the fact that Alix had been a member of the Hounds had completely extinguished what little interest he’d had in the club.
“…No.”
The prince continued,
There was no way he could get his hands on Fellen Deeps’ Sword earning a measly 100 Tilons a month from the Hounds.
“I need a lot of Tilons.”
Mikhail slammed both fists onto the table as he declared his position.
Just yesterday, he had scoffed at Tilons, dismissing them as play money—but now here he was, desperate.
“A whole lot.”
He emphasized his interest again.
Kyle chuckled at the strange response and asked,
“What do you need so much for?”
“…Ten thousand Tilons.”
Kyle’s eyes flew wide open at the answer.
“What?!”
He gawked, clearly flustered, and asked again as if to confirm whether Mikhail was serious.
“Ten thousand Tilons? Even I’ve never spent that much at once before…”
“I need ten thousand Tilons.”
The prince stubbornly repeated himself.
“Why so specific?”
That was a ridiculous amount of money. Just thinking about it gave Kyle the chills, and his shoulders gave a small shudder.
“It’s the prize for winning first place this year.”
“The prize? You mean the one in the central hall?”
Kyle’s mouth dropped open.
“You didn’t see the difference between the first and second place prizes? That sword’s just there to boost morale.”
Mikhail frowned, clearly baffled.
“…Boost morale?”
“That sword’s been displayed as the first-place prize for years. Honestly, everyone knows the real prize starts at second place. Isn’t that right?”
“Yep.”
Hans nodded beside them. It was common knowledge by now—so much so that it was considered nonexistent. That sword had been sitting in that spot even before any of them had entered the academy.
Sure, it was a fine weapon, well worth the 10,000 Tilon tag, but no one had ever actually won it. That’s why students had come to see the second-place prize as the best one you could realistically get.
There was even a strange rumor that the headmaster, since no one ever won the sword, would sometimes take it out of its case at dawn to train with it. The story was so widely spread that there was even a follow-up: apparently, when the headmaster heard the rumor, she laughed so hard it shook the hall.
But none of that mattered to Mikhail. He didn’t care one bit what the students of Basamiel Academy had thought in previous years.
“We get four chances to win it.”
Once Mikhail set a goal, he didn’t stray from it. Since Tilons reset every year, he really did have four total chances until his final year.
“Right… Good luck with that.”
Kyle replied with a half-hearted smile.
He’s only been here a week and still doesn’t understand the real value of a Tilon, huh. It was obvious the prince didn’t yet grasp how things really worked at Basamiel, or how tough it actually was to earn Tilons.
Kyle had seen it before—students going after that sword, only to burn out and fall short.
But judging from Mikhail’s fiery expression, maybe this year really would be different.
Kyle found himself impressed by the prince’s determined spirit.
The Gold Dragon suppressed the urge to blurt out, “You won’t believe it, but he’s actually going to be the one to get that sword.”
