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"Sign the damn order. The cadets need blooding, and our coffers are empty. Have you forgotten the consequences of the previous war already?"

- Dycedarg Beoulve to Duke Bestrald Larg, letter with unknown date.

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Chapter 2: A Civilized Age.

In a civilized society, school takes place at approximately 8:45 and ends at approximately 16:15, barring extracurricular activities, which you should, of course, be participating in so that you may become a respectable adult. Ivalice, however, was a deviant, bloodthirsty, medieval nation. At this damnable academy, I was forced to wake up as the sun rose and allowed free time when it fell. It was at that point that we were fortunately - or unfortunately, depending on your viewpoint - and blessedly, dismissed and our time was relinquished once more into our grip. But don't fool yourself. Much like your superior who promises you won't work late as long as you finish the project he dumped into your lap at the start of the day, our time was spent by the vast majority of students training or studying for the academy.

The extracurricular activities that an ordinary student would take are non-existent here, for this 'free period' is to prepare yourself for your future assignments. While, rationally, this is reasonable; it is important to be prepared for the tasks that your superiors are sure to assign to you, morally it is dubious. To assign subordinates extra work in such a twisted way, where they make it into your own choice...

As a salaryman, I was not unused to absurd hours, poor working conditions, and general morale issues. But wasn't this a bit too much for such a young student body? I had hoped that the hours here would at least be better then my job in my previous life! Damn you Being X, it's your fault, isn't it? That's the only explanation for why nobody in this world understands the necessity of sleep! Taking away even the thing that all humans cherish the most… Being X really is a devil.

But it was still better than being a commoner at this school. While I had risen through the glories of meritocracy - I still remembered the hours when I was on the commoner track instead of the noble one. Awake at four. Allowed the pain of that blessed lie known as freedom at twenty. Two hours of ostensible 'free time', that realistically amounted to studying and training. It was not unreasonable, in this era. The commoner track started so early because it naturally had to teach reading and writing for two hours, but the late release was simply because the teachers were more incompetent and paid less compared to the noble track.

Because I had shown proficiency in a few simple languages, the teachers had scrambled to move me out of the lower bracket, which pleased me greatly. Already, I could tell that a nation on the verge of war was almost as desperate for competent people as a nation mired in war. In a time of peace, meritocracy was easy to throw to the side, after all.

Peacetime was when a population could grow fat and lazy on their own laurels, as long as the economy was moving swiftly. It was only in wartime that you needed competent superiors to whip the lazy subordinates into shape. My ability to read, write, and speak multiple languages was one that was fairly uncommon in this era, and I could feel my safe future as a diplomat - or perhaps a strategist, if resources remained so slim for the pickings that a desperate war with Ordalia would begin - start to secure itself.

As I daydreamed of moonlighting in Romanda, I was in the midst of another class on magic.

This world - which so closely resembled my own - only had a few differences that were immediately obvious, this one being the most obvious. Magic is real in this world, the ability to manifest your own vision and idea of reality and force it to be true was most assuredly an alluring ability. Unfortunately, magic was ill-understood. Despite it being such a core fixture of this world, the way that it was utilized in warfare brought a sinking feeling to my stomach.

The real issue was range. When I heard that magic was real, I was naturally excited - dreaming of a wondrous future where I stayed safe and far away from any real combat while sniping my enemies and remaining safe - it was not meant to be. Magic had a maximum range, and if you went over that maximum range it got increasingly and increasingly more useless the further and further you went away. The stronger you were as a mage, the further your range was, but your spells grew weaker if they were too far from you.

Naturally, the nobility flipped this entire concept on it's head, with their magic swordsman, who cast from range, with swords. Swords! Why wouldn't they just cast using a bow, when it had far superior range!? The arrogance of the upper class of society cannot be underestimated, that much is true. I was shocked when I learned that the Ordallians were beyond arrogant - their mages were given the scantest amount of combat training and thrown into the frontlines with a bright red coat on. Are you trying to get them killed?

The drawbacks of magic are vastly outweighed by its usefulness. Teleportation alone should be required learning, in my humble opinion. Unfortunately, my range was… limited, to put it politely. The amount of arithmetic involved in teleportation was absurd, and my mind was constantly swimming with vectors and physic equations with every step I took.

"Cadet Degurechaff," the teacher said, and I looked up at the board, my eyes scanning the equation behind him. "Your thoughts?"

"The math's off." I said bluntly, looking at the equation. "There's a forgotten division. Your summon will break its chains in half, and be unleashed on the battlefield. Good to cover a retreat."

Magic was versatile, useful, and dangerous. Arithmetic was a magic in and of itself here, but the equations they were using made me want to cry. I had hoped that any of my schooling prior would carry over, but that damned Being X! Pi is different here! They use different markings for every equation! Magic equals force plus determination?! What does that even mean, you useless parasite masquerading as a god!

It was fortunate that while everyone else in the commoner track had been studying how to read and write, I had thrown myself into math with such fervor that you could have confused me for Aristotle. Magic was actually relatively simple, if one compared it to an economical equation. Money is made through force plus determination. Without appropriate amounts of each, your company will fail. Too much force, and your employees will run dry far too quickly. Too little determination, and your workforce will be lazy and lackluster, unable to complete even a simple report in an adequate amount of time.

"Right as always, Cadet," the professor said to me with a kindly smile.

I perked up, naturally pleased that I was being noticed in such a way. With an adequate showing of knowledge, as well as practical ability, I will be able to escape this inevitable battle that the Northern Sky is rushing headlong into.

"However," the professor continued, "an unleashed summon cannot differ between friends or foes. It would be as likely to destroy you as it would be to destroy your enemies."

I nodded, but knew he was being ridiculous, as always. Unlocking a summon's chains would tear the battlefield in half. The level of magic you could pour inside of one of those things was absolutely ridiculous, and assuming your math was correct, your summon would have however much power you poured into it, in addition to whatever energy it's drawing from the environment. As such, if you were already halfway off the battlefield when you summoned it, it was quite possibly the safest place to be.

Too bad that every summoner I knew was pathetic in melee combat, with twig-like arms and no understanding of how to dodge at all. There was a girl in Ramza's squadron that was exactly like that herself; overflowing with mana, but without a speck of martial skill.

I'd been trying to instruct her in the recent skirmishes - she was, after all, one of the best mages in our year - but she'd been reluctant to learn anything from me yet. I was hopeful, though. There were rumors that Ramza would be taught some of his brother's talents when he went back home, and everyone at the academy knew Ramza was an idiot who was perfectly happy to explain his techniques to anyone who asked. His explanations were short, concise, and relatively simple to understand, so I found it quite refreshing to ask him for them.

It was too bad that everyone else had so many issues understanding them. They really weren't that confusing.

"Before I release you to supper," the professor said, glancing at a piece of paper on his desk, "Cadet Beoulve, Cadet Degurechaff, you've received a summons to the headmaster's office. Please head there at once, would you?"

The headmaster?

The headmaster!?

Damn it. Damn it all to hell. I wasn't prepared for such an event, even as I saluted with my back as straight as a rod, before swiftly walking to the door, tapping my foot as I waited for Ramza to follow me before opening it and heading out.

I was nervous as I walked, but my fellow student seemed to be completely at ease in these gaudy halls. Has he never been scolded by a superior before? Does he not know how much money must go into repairing the aftermaths of the battlefields?

When I had discovered students have to pay for repairs out of their own pocket, I immediately swapped to a track of magic that was inherently easier to repair than Black or Summoning. White and Time magic really were the best, and their highest tier of spells didn't even leave any aftermath, because they were entirely magical constructs and dissipated on hit! I hadn't paid a cent to the academy after the moment I had uncovered this fact.

Although it teaches the students to be economically minded, isn't it unfair to teach children things that will invariably damage their surroundings, tell them to use them, and then charge them for it? This was one of the most devious Ponzi schemes I'd ever seen. I'd have to take care to make sure Ramza didn't fall for it. As an HR manager, I couldn't allow for such a competent employee to go wasted purely because he'd been dragged into a whirlwind of economic deceits.

"Ramza," I said quietly, tugging on his shirt and giving him a stern look, "If he asks us for money, do we run?"

"Are you being serious?"

I glared at him in response, and he let out a short bark of laughter, before it dawned on me - Ramza was a Beoulve, a family that was tied so closely to Duke Larg that there were rumors Dycedarg was swapped at birth. Any sort of monetary problem that he had would be easily and instantly resolved.

Adaptability was important for humans.

When I was at college, I never ran into that wonderful dream of an elite friend to grasp onto like a mosquito and hitch a free ride to high society. I was instead forced to become a corporate slave, monotonously picking away at miserable tasks in hopes that my superiors would see my competence and promote me. This is one of the benefits of meritocracy - that through your own efforts, you can easily rise high. But that would take time, time that I did not have in a country on the brink of war. Even beyond that, Ramza's own brother was Duke Larg's chief strategist! If I could get an audience with him, even for just a second…

Nepotism really is a terrifying thing, huh? I'm getting shivers just thinking about all I could accomplish by latching onto Ramza like a leech. Ramza, please allow me to hang off your back in order to climb the social ladder. You already have one hanger-on! Can't you allow for another one?!

"Obviously not," I lied. "It was a joke."

"Odd choice of words for a jest, Degurechaff," Ramza replied, looking at me with worry. I missed my prior height, where he would be forced to look up to meet my eyes, rather than looking so far down. It was far harder to pity people who were above you. "Are your finances a bit tight right now? Your scores are more than good enough, have none offered to sponsor you?"

I was pretty sure that I had a sponsor, considering you had to have one to be moved into the noble track at all. I wasn't entirely sure who it was, but I suspected it was one of the professors. Most of the teachers were nobility after all, which was why this school was so precious to my future, especially now that all my classmates and future co-workers were nobility as well. Even my own precious second in command was part of the nobility, albeit from…

Well, I hadn't the faintest. I was never big on remembering regional differences, as all that truly matters is that the nation as a whole operates as one unit. Even in war, the nation's center holds fast - although sometimes it is a bit too shaky for anyone's liking. I just hoped we didn't end up invading Ordalia. Yes, the Ordallians were backwards bourgeois elitists, and yes they did often write terrible plays that all the girls at this academy swooned over, but they also made absurdly tasty sweets. As a salaryman, I was never really one for sweets - perhaps it was because I was a man, perhaps it was because I had no free time, or perhaps something else - but as Tanya Degurechaff, I have come to admit, most humbly, that the women in my previous life were correct.

Sweets were amazing. I wanted those damn recipes if I had to kill someone else for it.

"I'm fine, Beoulve," I said in a matter of fact tone. "Not used to the commoners joking with you, are you?"

He flinched at that one, and I marked another point in my mental book. That makes 566-2, in verbal sparring for me versus Ramza Beoulve. Even if we were even in battle, this was one area of combat that he couldn't possibly match me in.

"That was also a joke, Beoulve."

"Your jokes hurt a little bit, Degurechaff."

Did they? I wasn't entirely sure about my sense of humor, but Ramza's friend seemed to get them entirely. He had rushed after me before I made it to the library, and babbled out some ridiculous nonsense over how fate was inevitable, and he wished to change the inevitable fate of his demise. I nodded politely and told him I agreed, and that he should try harder to become more useful as a human resource, so he was more than welcome to join me in training. He stammered something about thinking about it, before running off.

Ramza should be thanking me, honestly. I'm improving his resources at an exponential rate, and what has he ever done for me? I'm positive that in our next match, even Amelie will be able to dodge at least one attack! The last time our squadrons battled, he stabbed through Alexander's shield! Through it! What kind of ridiculous training regime is he doing? Are there time compression chambers at this school or something!?

"I apologize, Beoulve."

"Well, I suppose that's kind of-"

"Ah. I'm sorry. That was also a joke."

"You've tricked me once more, Degurechaff."

I hummed pleasantly as we walked the rest of the way to the headmaster's office. The academy was gaudy, but in a way that showed an extensive level of class. Red carpets rolled down the circular staircase that lead to the headmaster's office, with shining white marble pillars holding up the roof, upon which a sundial was painted with a picture of one of the Saints of this country. Being X wasn't the most intelligent, was he? Despite sending me here to make me believe in him, this world doesn't even have a system of belief that he's a part of! This isn't even a world with a single God or anything, there's dozens!

But I can't deny a suspicious similarity to Christianity. The twelve zodiacs and Saint Ajora - it was just a lazily rewritten version of Jesus Christ, wasn't it? I mean, sure Saint Ajora actually did something valuable; society would have truly collapsed if a demon had taken over it, but it was fundamentally just an old story at this point. I'd heard the damned tale of 'Ajora and the tree' half a hundred times, and each time was worse than the last.

As was expected, Ramza led me into the office. This was a classic defense mechanism that I often abused in my previous life; if you are worried your superior is planning to take out their anger on you, have a more well-liked coworker enter before you and chat up your superior. That precious coworker will save you from having to listen to the many complaints and confusing requests that superior officers will often hand out like candy on Halloween if you happen to be the target of their outrage. This well-liked coworker of mine will assuredly save me from a hopelessly dangerous situation - those were my thoughts walking into the room.

Which were promptly shattered when I saw Ramza's brother there. With short auburn hair and brown eyes, he was dressed smartly - no armor for now. Wearing a black short jacket with golden seams, well fitted to his body, in addition to black and red pants with brown boots, the man smiled kindly at Ramza - and let out a small chuckle when he saw my small body appear from behind him.

"Zalbaag? By the Gods, what are you doing at the Academy?"

Zalbaag walked around the desk, the headmaster left forgotten as he glanced down the papers he had picked up.

"Why, I'd heard rumors that you were shattering records, Ramza. Is it not natural to want to see your relatives succeed?"

"I suppose it's natural, but are you not busy with your duties?" Ramza said with a frown, glancing at his brother. "While they may seem unimportant, you must not forget-"

"No lectures, Ramza," the man said with a laugh, erasing the creeping sense of horror that had crept up my spine as I listened to a cadet attempt to tell the Knight Devout what exactly he was supposed to do. I know he's your brother Ramza, but I'm begging you to not drag us into anything stupid! "I'm just here to administer a… hm. Call it an early graduation exam?"

As always, my begging and pleading goes unnoticed in high society. While Ramza was certainly a freakish prodigy, I was only scrambling to keep up with him at best. The ridiculous shadow he left over our class was absurd, and he didn't seem to have any indication of doing the reasonable thing and 'slowing down' so he could pick up 'good assignments' and not be involved in 'incredibly dangerous situations'.

"An early graduation? Whatever for?"

"Have you not been following the news? Do you eat and sleep at the training ground?"

Ramza's face flushed red, but I was convinced he did. I looked away for two days and he'd picked up the damn javelin like it was second nature. Two more and he's messing around with barehanded boxing. A week passes and I hear someone say "Degurechaff, do you have any thoughts as to why magic fails to flow through weapons that aren't knightswords?" and I turn around to see a total idiot standing in the training yard with fifty shattered weapons next to him.

"Is it the Corpse Brigade?" I asked, moving out from behind Ramza's back and drawing Zalbaag's attention to myself. "I've heard that they're starting to move into more dangerous forms of villainy."

The Corpse Brigade was an organization I wished I could wholeheartedly approve of. The common man, demanding fair pay for fair work? I was astonished to see such a thing in a place that could easily be mistaken for the 1400s, I almost wanted to cry! Obviously, fair pay for fair work was a completely reasonable request! It was almost a shame about all the thievery and murder that they were doing. It completely undercut their core message entirely! If you wanted to unionize, then start a damn union! Don't kill off all your competition, then nobody will be willing to hire you except for other criminals! The reasoning behind it was obvious, however.

The Corpse Brigade was an organization of idealists. Fair pay for fair work, and fair work for fair pay. This was a common thought process that I respected deeply. As an avid fan of a meritocratic system, such thoughts were only natural. However, those beautiful ideals that they were founded upon end up tarred in the dirt and mud of reality. The cleanliness and wonder of fair work for fair pay doesn't sound so appetizing when your family is starving. Thievery, murder - these are things that show you do not wish to be a member of society at all. Even if you are competent at these lawless deeds, does it really matter? To be unlawful is to reject society entirely, to claim that your way of living is more 'just' than others. But crimes destroy the inherent social contract that society makes.

'I won't murder.'

'I won't steal.'

'I won't rape.'

All of these things are necessary from all participants in society. Jails and jailors exist to place these undesirable societal elements into a position where they can murder, steal, and rape to their hearts content - but only among themselves. Beyond that, their crimes are ruining the good name of honest workers everywhere! As a salaryman - no, as a member of this society - I simply cannot allow this to continue. If it does, how the hell are commoners like me supposed to get jobs working for the government, if they suspect we'll just throw a fit and destroy everything if things don't go according to plan!? And even then, how will we ever get any of those wondrous things known as 'labor laws' if you resort to actions that even the most irrational person couldn't possibly agree with?

"You," Zalbaag said, looking me up and down. "From how Ramza and Delita described you in their letters I expected someone more… imposing."

I hadn't the faintest idea why. Nothing I had done to either of those two was all that terrifying.

"Degurechaff's not that bad," Ramza muttered under his breath, scratching the back of his head. "She's just very… intense?"

"Those are almost the exact words you used to describe the dragon Alma tried to convince me to capture her for her birthday."

"It was an incredibly intense dragon."

"It's a godsdamned dragon, Ramza. They're all intense."

This is exactly why I was convinced Ramza would do something completely idiotic, like dying, before dragging me to high society life.

"Barring your penchant for… intensity," Zalbaag said the word with all the disbelief of a superior who has just realized that his subordinate is merely stupid, not incompetent, "Cadet Degurechaff is correct. The two of you - and a few additions from your squadrons - have been selected to stamp out the Corpse Brigade before they start to do things that are a tad more provocative."

Ransacking houses and killing guards wasn't provocative? I should have joined that gang in Dorter instead of becoming a student.

"Which ones exactly?" I asked, my tone neutral, but inside I was screaming. For one, this was an incredibly dangerous mission to assign to mere cadets in training. It spoke that my fears about the monetary troubles Ivalice was going through were more concrete then I'd originally expected, but even worse, we'd have to bring people who Ramza and I both knew were incompetent with us?

Half of Anelle's spells explode! Felix stabbed himself in the thigh when he was trying to knock an arrow the other day! These simply weren't people that I could trust with my safety.

As a primarily support-based mage, I was hoping to surround myself with wonderful, glorious meatshields such as Ramza on a regular basis, who would never leave my side once we entered the battlefield. But those dreams suddenly seemed further than our graduation, which had apparently been moved up to 'yesterday'.

"Both of your seconds and thirds," Zalbaag bluntly replied, and I almost sagged in relief. Delita and Amelie were trustworthy, even if Amelie couldn't hold a sword worth a damn and Delita had never successfully cast a spell above Fira in his entire time. "As well as whoever else you desire to bring with you. I'm sure the two of you can fill in the blanks, yes?"

"And our time of departure?"

"Whenever you've assembled your makeshift squadron. I'd hoped you'd depart in… A month?"

A month!

A whole month!

Zalbaag, are you a saint? Could you, instead of Ramza, perhaps, drag me to the wonders of high society? This kindness is simply too much for a useless dreg like me, who is far too used to cruel and wicked superiors who demand responses on the same day, rather than such a far-off point in the future! Amelie could be taught how to dodge! Dirk might learn that flight is the perfect way to rain death down on your enemies! I felt a smile slowly start to grow on my face, only to see the headmaster glance up and pale.

"Err, Knight Devout," he began, hastily scribbling a note onto the paper in front of him and handing it off to Zalbaag, "Perhaps it would be best if they departed a bit… sooner?"

Zalbaag looked at the note, and then at the pleased smile on my face.

"Yes, perhaps it is," Zalbaag said, glancing at Ramza. "Tomorrow, then?"

Ramza and I saluted, even though I could see my dreams curling up into ash.

"And Ramza, when you return, you must have some sort of explanation for the costs of the battlegrounds, correct?"

Ramza looked at Zalbaag with a growing sensation of horror, and I could only feel pity that my competent coworker was being dragged into this damnable Ponzi scheme. I had to protest, before he was trapped in that existential hell known as 'debt' for the rest of his life.

"Are the battlegrounds not for training? Are they not there for us to utilize? To charge for their use… isn't that just asking for your cadets to go into battle under-trained?"

Zalbaag mused over that thoughtfully, glancing down at me.

"Cadet, does that make it any less ridiculous to have destroyed three? How many have you destroyed at the Academy so far?"

I smiled like an angel.

"When I leave the battlefield, it is as clean as when I arrived on it."

Ramza looked at me with wonder, as he very well should. I take pride in having paid nothing to the academy.

"Yes, I can see that from the… reports, of your squadrons clashing. No more of this then," he said, looking the two of us over. "Collect your men. You depart at dawn."

I nodded, giving a dirty look to the headmaster. He'd taken away my dream of a slow and lazy selection process. It wouldn't have been hard to convince Ramza the best way to select the best people for the job was a drawn out, brutal gauntlet of challenges and tests that would make even Dirk burst into tears. Ramza was, for all his prodigiousness in battle, a bit of an idiot. The gauntlet alone would have taken half a month, and rerunning it another half! And then, if Zalbaag asked if we were prepared, I could have told him that we would need more time for selection, which would have been totally reasonable, right? We're just students after all! This simple task could have been stalled out for upwards of two months at minimum, depending on Zalbaag's goodwill and how willing Ramza was to be dragged along. With the whole month he had given us originally, I might have even managed to get three.

But as always, the headmaster is a slave driver. I sighed mournfully the instant the door closed behind us, my bright future of a long-term delayed mission vanishing in an instant.

"As clean as the moment you arrived?" Ramza said.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked, rolling my eyes as I walked away. "It is."

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uwaa... so many people posting... If you guys keep this up, I might cry, you know? I might seriously burst into tears on the spot, and maybe even fall in love or something! You can't keep doing this to me, okay?! My maiden's heart won't be able to take it!

If you see any glaring flaws, please flame me. I will read all your kind words with a heavy heart and an alcoholic beverage in hand.