I Became the Academy’s Weakest Strategist

A day at Montegro Academy bustles with activity.
Following meticulously structured curricula, students hone their sword skills and study magic according to their individual schedules.
The epitome of graceful, honorable knighthood – this was the aspiration of every knight cadet.

To become a knight required progressing through set stages.
First, those aspiring to knighthood began as Pages – essentially apprentices performing all manner of menial tasks for the knightly orders while learning etiquette and training intermittently.
However, most Montegro knight cadets skipped this initial phase, being of noble birth.
While commoners and nobles alike had to serve as Pages in ancient times, nowadays only non-nobles tended to undergo that entry level.

The next stage was Squire, spanning the first through third years of training.
Students received direct tutelage, learning weapon and armor maintenance, horsemanship, martial skills, and unarmed combat for battlefield survival.
First-years typically focused on basic swordplay and outdoor riding lessons.

After that grueling first year, second-years began intensive weapons training in earnest.
With swords existing in myriad forms, students selected the blade best suited to their hands and mastered its intricacies.
It was during this phase that the innately talented separated from the inept.
Instructors actively nurtured those who demonstrated prodigious skill, aggressively promoting their development.

The knight faculty comprised renowned figures – veterans of the empire’s legendary knightly orders, renowned mercenary commanders, or famous guildmasters.
Upon recognizing outstanding prospects, they vied to recruit those students into their own affiliations.
For many, this season essentially determined their future paths.
The gifted received offers from prestigious guilds and knightly orders, while the untalented oft went unnoticed.

Yet one particular prodigy commanded the awe of the entire knight faculty.
A young maiden whose swordsmanship flowed flawlessly without hesitation, claiming overwhelming victories against even their veteran instructors.
The epitome of knightly grace and honor, hailing from the illustrious Edinburar lineage which had produced countless celebrated knights over generations.
Edinburar Rose.
She was the aspiration of all first-year knight cadets.

“Seriously, that senior is utterly insane.”
“Agreed…how can she wield a blade relentlessly without pause?”
“I’d be bedridden from muscle cramps after half that exertion.”
“Does that senior even get muscle cramps? Training like that all day would likely kill any normal person’s muscles.”
“She’s a madwoman, pure and simple.”

First-year knight cadets watched in awe as Edinburar Rose tirelessly swung her practice blade in the training grounds.
Gripping a sturdy wooden sword, she slashed it downwards with ferocious intensity.
The sheer force generated explosive bursts of slicing wind audible even from afar.

Several freshmen cadets, confident in their talents, had challenged Rose to bouts – only to be instantly routed without even lasting ten strikes.
Their ‘swords’, considered a knight’s very lifeblood, were rendered utterly unusable, irreparably shattered to splinters unfit for the forge’s repairs.
Such utter devastation marked their defeats.

“Huff…huff…”
Embodying bamboo-like unwavering fortitude, Rose channeled an aura of such overbearing dominance that rumors swirled she would have inherited the Edinburar patriarchy had she been born male.
Her prodigious talents were utterly overwhelming.

While her older brother wielded a blade, he lacked her ability.
Her elder sister exhibited no interest in swordsmanship whatsoever.
With her father, the current Edinburar patriarch, aged and waning in vigor, and her most admired eldest brother having perished in battle against mara beasts…
Rose remained the sole surviving hope to carry on their illustrious lineage.

Thus, she devoted herself entirely to the blade, bearing the full weight of her noble house’s legacy squarely upon her shoulders.
At times, she longed to simply cast everything aside and flee.
Yet thoughts of her mother and fallen brother compelled her to steadfastly persevere.

Whooosh!
The whipping winds scattered sand and pebbles as Rose’s intense training regimen continued unabated.
Though dressed in breathable attire, Montegro’s arid climate left her utterly drenched in sweat.
Wiping the beads rolling down her jaw, she briefly paused to catch her breath as the distant chirping of insects resonated.

Springtime’s arrival had ushered in the mating calls of those little creatures, each vying fervently to attract a mate.
In this empty training yard, with its sweltering warmth radiating from the ground and the faint insect serenades carrying from afar…
Rose lowered her practice sword, gazing upwards at the azure sky.

Whimsically shaped clouds – one reminiscent of an animal glimpsed on the street, another evoking a verdant forest – drifted lazily overhead in the still air.
Though the abundant cloud cover provided respite with frequent shade, Rose expelled a weary sigh, her earlier intensity slightly diminished.

“Alone again today, I see.”
Gripping her wooden blade once more, despite her weakening grasp, Rose seemed capable of practicing a few score more repetitions at least.

“…Your Highness.”
Rose’s thoughts briefly revisited the events from earlier that day.
Just hours prior, she had received a summons from Princess Erzse to join her at a café.
Setting aside her training regimen, Rose had hastened to dress appropriately before rushing to the designated location – Café Le Deux, a renowned upscale establishment frequently patronized by the nobility that the princess often visited.

Yet the sight that greeted Rose upon her arrival was…

“Oh…?”
“Oh no…”
“Your Highness…?”

Her liege, Princess Erzse, in an intimate clinch with some unknown gentleman who had recently enlightened Rose on the matter of ‘honor’.
A scene ripped straight from the pages of a tawdry romance novel, seared into Rose’s eyes.

“Your…Your Grace, why are you here…?”
“Ro…Rose? This…this is a misunderstanding. There are complex circumstances…”
“I…I’m terribly sorry!”

Flushing crimson, Rose swiftly retreated, slamming the door shut behind her as an unfamiliar flush of heated intensity flooded her being – distinct from the usual warmth of exertion during training.

“Huff…huff…! Rose, please…just…huff…hear me out!”
“Your Highness?”

Fortunately, the princess soon caught up, attempting to dispel the embarrassing misunderstanding.
Yet Rose found herself unable to easily dismiss the disquieting seedlings of doubt taking root within.

‘Why were Her Highness and that gentleman in such…intimacy?’

She knew not when the princess and that man had became acquainted.
Nor why Her Highness had never mentioned him before.
The princess had indeed obliquely praised a certain student recently, but Rose never imagined it referred to this same ‘gentleman’ she had encountered.

A knight sworn to serve their liege must never harbor suspicions, yet Rose could not easily purge her mind of the lingering discomfort and uncertainty.
Relentlessly swinging her blade in solitude allowed her to physically exhaust those turbulent emotions away, at least for a time.
Drenched in sweat, straining every muscle until her practice sword became tattered – only then did such conflicted thoughts finally drift beyond the distant horizons of her mind.

“Get a grip, Rose.”
Smacking her leathered palms against flushed cheeks, she forcibly dispelled those wayward contemplations.
The heavy use had left her gloves stained, imprinting smudged streaks across her face, yet Rose paid it no mind.

“Time to finish my set.”
Her goal today: one thousand sword strikes.
Having only completed 858 so far, Rose reassumed her stance, readying to resume.

“Senior Rose.”
From the edge of the training grounds, someone began approaching with unhurried footfalls.
Turning, Rose’s eyes met the newcomer.

“Kurz?”
A young man with deep azure tresses ambled over, waving in greeting.
Leonardo Kurz – a childhood friend who had crossed blades with Rose in their youth, though the results invariably ended in her overwhelming victory.
Still, his distinctive smile remained indelibly etched into Rose’s memories.

“It has been too long, Senior.”
“Just call me Rose, no need for ‘senior’.”
“If you insist, Rose it is then.”

Kurz proffered an elegantly embroidered cloth, clearly intended for Rose to wipe away her exertions.
Aware of her regimen, his thoughtfulness was appreciated.
Without fuss, Rose accepted the offered fabric, using it to dab away the clinging perspiration from her face.

“So what brings you here today?”
Having toweled off the majority of sweat, Rose inquired about Kurz’s purpose.
While aware he had enrolled at the academy, this was her first encounter with him since admission.
Whether by his intentional avoidance or their mutually hectic schedules remaining uncertain, this reunion at the academy grounds was long overdue.

“A matter I wished to broach with you, Rose.”
“A matter?”
“Indeed, you see, I have set my sights on claiming the individual championship at this year’s Inter-Class Tournament.”
“The individual championship?”

Kurz’s audacious declaration left Rose gaping at him, stunned.
Her surprise stemmed from intimate familiarity with Kurz’s modest combat prowess.

“Some rather intriguing fellows have recently entered my circle, you see.”
“I see…”

Having observed Kurz since childhood, Rose knew him well.
His swordsmanship remained subpar, yet his perception and discernment of others were exceptionally keen.
Hence, the Kurz family greatly valued his insights, grooming him as a pivotal adviser despite his martial shortcomings.
His acute ability to assess situations and individuals was truly peerless.

“These ‘fellows’ you mentioned have piqued my curiosity.”
If Kurz himself praised their merits, committing their names to memory could prove worthwhile.
Should the opportunity arise, personally introducing them to the princess seemed a prospect worth entertaining.

“Griff Rommel and Esparah Louis.”
Kurz spoke their names with the satisfied air of one who had unearthed profound treasures.

In that instant—

Thunk.
Edinburar Rose, the aspiration of all first-year cadets, the embodiment of knightly ideals…
For the first time during her training session that day, her blade clattered to the ground.

“Rommel, you say…?”
An expression of sheer horror rapidly contorted Rose’s features.