Chapter 81
11. The Rice Nation
Lunchtime.
“Ugh… Ah….”
“Food… It’s food….”
The children shuffled into the dining hall like half-corpses.
The confident faces they’d worn before swordsmanship class were now twisted in all sorts of grimaces. It had been no easy feat, after all.
“How does a simple tap send it flying with a whoosh? Does that even… even make sense?”
“The instructor’s just that amazing… Ah, I can’t even talk. Let’s eat first.”
If they didn’t eat now, they might actually die during the next session.
They needed something in their stomachs to muster any strength. No matter how exhausted, food came first.
“One more bowl!”
Even Tepi, who’d thrown such a fit yesterday about not being able to eat, was now chomping away heartily—a truly positive change.
“Honestly.”
Morris, having filled his belly somewhat, spoke to Rachel sitting across from him.
“I have no idea how I could’ve blocked that sword.”
“…Me neither.”
“But.”
Morris asked cautiously.
“How on earth did the young lady do it?”
Rachel shared the same curiosity. Her own sword had flown out of her grasp in the blink of an eye, yet Daphne had blocked two strikes—and without seeming to struggle much at all!
Was it because of her hero’s bloodline? Had the hero given her special training? The kids couldn’t help but wonder.
“Morris. Why don’t you go ask her? No, I’m not close to her.”
Beyond not being close, she’d hurled a ton of insults her way. If Daphne ever found out the truth, Rachel was sure she’d grab her by the hair.
“I’m not close either.”
“Come on. Is anyone here actually close to the young lady? What I mean is, at least you didn’t fight with her.”
“…Didn’t I?”
Morris recalled what he’d said to Daphne yesterday.
-Daphne, you should tone it down too. Pretending to be nice here won’t change anything.
Hmm. Definitely something that could rub her the wrong way.
“I did pick a fight yesterday, though.”
“Ah, why?!”
“But I gave her cherry tomatoes in return.”
“What’s that about?”
Rachel wore a genuinely puzzled expression as she added,
“Ask her later anyway. I’m curious. If she tells you, let me know too.”
“If you give me tomatoes.”
“Are you hung up on not getting tomatoes? Just eat!”
For now, they focused on their meal. Whether they got answers from Daphne or not, they needed to eat to regain their energy.
***
After that brief respite during lunch, tactics class began immediately.
The instructor was Second-Grade Guardian Fiona, and unlike the others, she used polite language consistently and offered gentle smiles, which helped ease the atmosphere considerably.
“Now, in terrain like this, how should you respond…”
The class proceeded under the assumption that all the children could become Guardians or even the next hero.
They learned strategies against opponents and tactics for war. It was a session that exercised the mind, not the body.
As a result,
“Ugh… Ah! Did I doze off?”
“Ew, drool.”
Many kids started nodding off.
Waking at the crack of dawn to run, eating, running again, and eating once more—it was inevitable they’d feel sleepy.
For these young children, still soft with baby down, drowsiness was an instinct they couldn’t resist.
Moreover, Fiona didn’t seem as scary as expected; she appeared kind, so some kids took her lightly.
Thus, the number of dozing children began to multiply one by one.
“Are you sleepy?”
When more than half the class had started nodding off, Fiona closed her book and asked. The kids’ eyes lit up. Surely Fiona would give them a break!
But,
“Then I’ll make sure you’re not sleepy anymore.”
With a bright smile, Fiona hung the children upside down.
“If blood rushes to your head, you won’t feel drowsy. Oh, I’m so kind, aren’t I? Right?”
The dangling kids thought to themselves.
There isn’t a single normal person here.
“Honestly, isn’t this abuse…?”
Someone spoke the truth. But the response that followed made them clamp their mouths shut.
“We’re still better off. In the youth division, if you mess up, they don’t give you meals.”
“What? No meals? How can they deny food to the people of the Dominion Empire, the rice nation?!”
“Exactly. At least we get to eat, so we’re lucky.”
As they say, the dog covered in shit pities the one covered in chaff. The thoroughly soiled children tried to view their situations in a positive light.
After that hellish upside-down tactics class ended, hand-to-hand combat class began right away.
The instructor was Nike.
“Your faces have halved in size in just one day, cadets. What a positive transformation. I’m deeply moved.”
The craziest of the three instructors.
The children let out long sighs, imagining the hell that was about to unfold. This moment felt like it would be the toughest of the day.
“Everyone, sit down for now. On the floor is fine.”
Unexpectedly, though, Nike didn’t start by drilling them.
“I said I’d be teaching hand-to-hand combat, but simply put, it’s fistfighting.”
Instead, he began explaining calmly.
“Why does a swordsman who wields a blade need to learn bare-handed combat? Does any cadet know?”
Rachel shot her hand up eagerly.
“Trainee Rachel.”
“Because a swordsman isn’t limited to just swinging a sword.”
“Half correct. Still, I’ll give you one point.”
“Thank you!”
Leaving the grinning Rachel behind, Nike paced between the seated children as he continued.
“A swordsman is someone who fights at every moment. Once you’ve decided to live as a swordsman, your future is uncertain. No one knows what events will unfold or what trials you’ll face.”
The words didn’t quite sink in. Seeing the kids’ puzzled expressions, Nike added an example.
“Instructor Kenric once lost his sword in battle and took down five enemies bare-handed.”
“Oh….”
“Instructor Fiona, when her blade dulled, knocked out twelve foes with kicks.”
“Oh…?”
Kenric was one thing, but Fiona was small and scrawny, looking utterly fragile—how? Wouldn’t it make more sense for Fiona to teach hand-to-hand? The children’s eyes wavered.
“For reference, I handled seventeen to one.”
Nike boasted with a smug eyebrow raise, and the kids, catching on, chimed in supportively. The corners of his mouth crept upward.
“As such, in any situation, the easiest way to protect yourself is through close combat. Don’t give up just because you’re weak. Even if your strength is lacking, if you read your opponent well, you can subdue them sufficiently. Understood?”
“Understood!”
“Additionally, practicing combat widens your body’s range of motion, making it easier when you wield a sword too. It’s beneficial in many ways.”
“Got it!”
Hearing Nike’s words, the class seemed like it would be actual ‘instruction’—Nike demonstrating first, with the kids following.
Not like swordsmanship class, where they’d swung until their arms trembled for hours, or tactics, where they’d battled insane drowsiness. Thinking this, the children felt a bit relieved.
“So.”
But this was Nike.
The maddest instructor of them all.
“I need to see your skills, cadets.”
He smiled sweetly and held up two fingers.
“Pair up in twos. The loser runs to the mountain summit and back once more.”
“…Excuse me?”
“Pair up in twos. I won’t say it twice.”
The children’s eyes spun wildly.
It meant form pairs and fight.
And the loser would repeat the morning’s physical conditioning.
So the kids lit up with determination and rushed toward those who looked weaker than themselves. Someone smaller, younger, who seemed like they wouldn’t put up much of a fight…!
“Huh.”
Daphne fit the bill.
“What? What are you staring at?”
The youngest, skinniest, and smallest among them, Daphne was inevitably the target. Knowing this, she scrunched her face in a fierce scowl.
“You must see me as some pushover. Fine. Bring it on. I’ll take you all… Hey, where are you going?”
But the children scattered like chicks spotting a hawk.
Sure, Daphne was young, skinny, and small, but her temper was the fiercest on the continent. What if touching her set off a storm? Better not. That’s what they thought.
“They’re all scared of me. They’ve finally recognized my greatness!”
Of course, Daphne had no idea what they were thinking and instead felt immensely proud.
“Idiot.”
Celia muttered as she passed by, but Daphne didn’t hear. She was focused on Nike’s expression hardening in an instant.
“I’m disappointed in you, cadets!”
As expected.
Nike bellowed thunderously.
“Do you think this class is about beating someone weaker? Is that why you went for the youngest, Trainee Daphne?”
To improve in combat, common sense dictated fighting someone stronger. But these fools, driven solely by avoiding punishment, were picking the weak—enough to make his blood boil.
Nike ground his teeth and glared. Then he whipped his head toward Daphne.
“Trainee Daphne. Choose an opponent. Assuming you pick properly, I’ll add one point.”
Daphne’s eyes widened. ‘Pick properly’ likely meant the opposite of ‘beating the weak isn’t class,’ as he’d just said.
As it happened, Daphne had someone in mind.
“I’ll take…”
The corners of Daphne’s mouth curled up into a grin.
☆▪︎▪︎▪︎☆
By Anna 💓
