novelraw Chapter 101 : Chapter 101
Chapter 101 : Chapter 101
Chapter 101: Parent-Teacher Conference (2)
“A student sponsored by Sharma died, you see.”
Fleur de Saint-Pierre, I mean, he said.
Christophe muttered quietly.
“This Christophe Jean-Jacques Saint-Sharma finds the death of Miss Saint-Pierre quite regrettable. It is common for children to die, but Fleur de Saint-Pierre was an Evangelist, after all.”
Abel did not speak.
Curtis and Beatrice also did not open their mouths.
The death of children was common. It didn't matter if one was an Evangelist or a relative of the imperial family. Talent and status were merely useless before death.
It was that kind of era. An era where those carrying cold weapons roamed the streets, where spells were used indiscriminately, and where monster invasions were frequent. And what of war? Not even ten years had passed since the Mirror War had come to an end. Those who survived were at peace, and those who had died were just pitiful. The three people sitting around the round table empathized as adults. Adamantly, that it had always been this way.
“Professor Argento, so I shall ask.”
Christophe adjusted his monocle.
He continued, raising one corner of his mouth.
“You were the professor in charge of Fleur de Saint-Pierre. As a professor, what are your thoughts on that child's death?”
“……I feel a deep sense of responsibility.”
“Interesting. The death of a child is not something anyone can take responsibility for.”
Then what about it.
If he felt responsible for Fleur's death as a professor, what did he think as the Sword Saint.
Christophe held such a question in his mouth.
He knew only what he knew. As the head of one of the four families at the empire's core, he had been briefed on the truth of the incident that occurred in the Saint-Pierre domain. The death of the Evangelist, the apostates' religion, the children of the fairies, and finally, the Sword Saint. Though many contexts had yet to be revealed, the fact that Abel had witnessed Fleur de Saint-Pierre's death was clear. Not as a professor, but as the Sword Saint.
“Don't be so stiff, everyone. It's just that one child died, that's all. It's something to be sad about for a night and be done with.”
Christophe smiled flawlessly.
He waved his cane and whispered as if singing.
“In any case, Fleur de Saint-Pierre is dead, and I thought I'd take this opportunity to look after Sharma's students a bit. Ernst von Tresckow is also a Sharma student, and that lad's grandmother, Brunhilde, is a childhood friend of mine.”
That is why I have come.
As Ernst von Tresckow's guardian.
“So let's begin our talk. Professor Argento, what kind of child is Ernst?”
“He is a clever child.”
Abel asserted quietly.
“He simply lacks motivation, but he has the talent of a commander.”
“Talent as a commander, you say. Brunhilde also showed promise from a young age. But to say he lacks motivation. What is the reason for that?”
“It seems he has witnessed it since childhood. The internal power struggles waged within the Tresckow family.”
Christophe stroked his mustache.
As Brunhilde's close friend, he knew. That the Tresckow family was rotting from the inside. To the extent that the farce of a will being stolen had occurred.
That must be why Ernst showed no motivation. Having seen those engrossed in power from a young age, he had grown weary of power itself too early on. A certain amount of ambition is necessary, after all…….
“What about our Demian?”
Suddenly, Beatrice opened her mouth.
“I want to hear about that child as well.”
“He is an upright child.”
Abel asserted without hesitation.
“I worry because he is too upright, but his talent for swordsmanship is genius.”
“That's probably true. All the men in our family are like that. They're all so rigid. To the point of being a little boring.”
“Some time ago, I visited the capital's slums with Demian. He seemed quite surprised.”
Beatrice nodded.
As a mother, she felt it deeply. The reason Demian could be upright was because he did not know. Because he did not know what he did not know. Because he did not know evil, and only knew good.
Are the slums evil? Probably so. Since it is a dangerous place where illegal acts are perpetrated. But even so, must they be left as evil? Demian was at an age to start pondering, and she had taught him so that he could reach the right answer.
“There's no need to talk about Roberta.”
Meanwhile, Curtis let out a sigh.
“Even I don't know what's on her mind, so how would you?”
“Lord Curtis.”
Abel thought for a moment, then,
“Then I would like to ask, shameless as it may be. What do you think of your daughter.”
He returned a question instead of an answer.
“Roberta is…….”
Curtis's eyes narrowed.
As he was at a loss for words about his only daughter, Roberta.
It seemed she had followed him quite well in her younger days. There was also a time when she was timid. When did she become a tomboy who rampaged all over the place? Curtis thought he didn't really know. Even if he asked Roberta, he wouldn't get an answer. Curtis and Roberta had come to barely speak to each other.
To confess such inner thoughts to that man?
Ridiculous.
Curtis shook his head.
“……A nuisance.”
Thus, he defined her simply.
As nothing more than a rascal.
“What else is there to say. She just plays pranks and wanders around all day. The young master of the Tresckow family seems skilled at setting strategies, and the son of the Farenheit family seems to have excellent swordsmanship, but our Roberta has no particular forte to speak of.”
“That is not true.”
Abel firmly denied it.
“Roberta is also a child whose talent has been identified. That is why she belongs to my class. I am keeping a close eye on Roberta's pranks. That child is skilled at handling tools, and she is also very interested in applying them.”
“And what of it?”
Curtis sighed.
“Stop with the hypocrisy, Professor Argento. I know very well that you care for my daughter. But I am a parent and also an engineer. Roberta has talent? As a father, I am happy, but as an engineer, I find it difficult to agree.”
What Roberta makes are toys, at best.
Curtis believed so without a doubt. As a weapons merchant and manufacturer, the principles behind Roberta's traps seemed laughable to him. He could see traces of her trying her best. Flashes of brilliant ideas also stood out from time to time. But they had no practical use. Just like all children's pranks.
“Tell me, Professor Argento. What use do Roberta's toys have?”
Toys are useless.
They are toys because they are useless.
Curtis argued so,
“I believe they have no particular use.”
Abel nodded once.
“That's what toys are in the first place. They are only needed for playing pranks, simple and crude tools for accomplishing anything else.”
“That's only natural.”
A corner of Curtis's mouth crept up.
“Therefore, Roberta's pranks aren't worth discussing…….”
“They are.”
Abel rummaged through the documents on the round table.
“Roberta is a child who can create far more amazing tools. Yet she only makes items needed for pranks. As if she has decided to stagnate on her own. I want to find out why Roberta insists on pranks.”
Sreuk, it went.
The sound of a sheet of paper being pushed forward.
“As you may know, the reason I am meeting with you all today is to ask for your valuable opinions.”
Christophe, Beatrice, Curtis.
The gazes of the three people turned to the top of the round table.
Practical Evaluation Consent Form. The phrase written on the sheet of paper stood out.
It was a fact they were well aware of. Cia-Harphe Academy had periodically engaged in relief activities, and the meeting held today was a procedure to decide on participation.
“The students have all consented.”
Ernst, Demian, Roberta.
The signatures of the three students were scribbled on the document.
“As their professor, I intend to permit their participation. Ernst, Demian, and Roberta are all children with enough capability to save someone.”
What are your thoughts?
To such a question from Abel,
“Is there anything else to say?”
Christophe shrugged his shoulders.
“Brunhilde was one of the empire's greatest commanders, and Ernst is her eldest grandson. Besides, he is a student of Sharma. I, Christophe Jean-Jacques Saint-Sharma, will permit Ernst's participation.”
“The same goes for me.”
A smile spread across Beatrice's lips.
“Demian is a child who still has much to learn. As the heir to the Farenheit family, he must surely be aware of reality. I, Beatrice von Farenheit, will permit Demian's participation.”
“Hah!”
On the other hand, Curtis let out a scoff.
“Look here, Professor Argento. Let me ask you one thing.”
What on earth is this curriculum for.
The practical evaluation, I mean. What is the use of protecting the safety of a backward region and then learning about the lives of the subjects who reside there.
A backward region is surely backward because it is useless.
The lives of the subjects who reside there are as plain as day. They must be utterly miserable.
Are you telling me you're dragging the children there just to teach them such nonsense.
“Even though you know full well it's a dangerous place?”
“Of course, it is dangerous.”
Abel affirmed without hesitation.
“But it is safe.”
It is dangerous. But it is safe.
Abel's words were contradictory.
“I have no intention of teaching the children unconditional hope. That is because, in the first place, I do not know of unconditional hope.”
Saying nice things,
Showing them nice things,
Having them hold only nice thoughts,
Having them experience only nice environments,
“I do not believe such a policy is proper education.”
Children must learn despair.
Abel whispered so.
“They must be placed in desperate situations, endure desperate environments, and learn to ruminate on desperate emotions.”
Because one day, it will be so.
If they grow older, surely at least once.
“Therefore, if one is a professor who teaches children…….”
Abel let out a faint breath.
“I believe one must guide them to face despair as a matter of course.”
In the safest way possible,
So that they can endure it anytime.
* * *
There was an airship.
‘Heaven's Footprint’. It was a reconnaissance aircraft mobilized during the Mirror War.
Length approx. 10m, wingspan approx. 14m, max takeoff weight approx. 800kg.
As a reconnaissance aircraft equipped with miniaturized mana stones, it was also used for bombing in the late stages of the Mirror War. It was when it began to be equipped with the Sinclair family's explosives.
Every night, Curtis polished ‘Heaven's Footprint’.
Today was the same. He was wiping the wings with a wet towel.
‘Heaven's Footprint’, enshrined in the underground hangar, was like an embalmed corpse. It truly was similar. The act of diligently polishing a reconnaissance aircraft that had long been decommissioned, and the act of neatly washing and cremating the dead.
“I heard.”
Meanwhile, Roberta opened her mouth.
She stood leaning against the hangar entrance with her arms crossed.
“That you opposed me participating in the practical evaluation.”
“Yeah. That's what happened.”
Curtis responded in an indifferent tone.
He wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead with his back to Roberta.
“You're still young. The practical evaluation is too dangerous.”
Why would you go to a place like that.
It's all pointless. Do you understand.
“Answer me, Roberta.”
As he said that, Curtis looked back at Roberta,
But Roberta did not answer. She stared silently at Curtis, then turned her back. Roberta's footsteps stomped away, and,
“Foolish girl.”
Curtis began polishing again as if it were nothing.
He wiped the steel wings with the wet towel.
Kkiirik, kkiirik, it went.
At a glance, the sound of friction was like a groan filled with pain.