Chapter 9

- POV: Private First Class Brenner -

"Yeah, no."

"Why not?! Surely you can dance!" Louise demanded.

"The only thing I knew how to do was slow dance from my mom," I said. "Is that allowed?"

"No!" Louise cried in frustration. "No noble's going to be impressed by just anyone slow dancing! Anyone can simply learn how to do that! And there's no way I can get music to be played! Ugh!" She turned around and dropped on the bed with a muffled groan, her face pressed against the blankets.

"What's the big deal anyways? So this exhibition's gonna show off your familiars, I can easily show myself off as a competent fighter," I said.

"Everyone knows you defeated Guiche in combat already. No one will think you any more impressive if you wave your sword or gun around," Louise grumbled quietly after she sat up, a tired sigh escaping her as she rubbed the spot on her nose between her eyes.

"Well, talking about it isn't going to really help. I need to brush up on swordsmanship anyways. And by brush up, I mean completely learn from step one," I said. "Derflinger, are you willing to teach me?"

"Sure thing!" the sword rattled as I picked him up, slinging him over my back. "It's been a while since I saw some action. Just so you know, I'm more useful in the practical sense!"

"Alright. I'm gonna practice in the field. If you need me, then I'll be there," I said as I headed for the door - before stopping. "Louise, everything will be fine. I promise."

Louise just nodded. "Don't start any more duels, alright?" she asked.

"Sure thing," I said before heading out with Derflinger. I had to admit my excitement was a bit strong - fighting with a sword? Who wouldn't be so eager?

- an hour later -

"What do you mean you don't know basic tricks?" I asked incredulously.

"Like I said, I'm more of a practical model!" Derflinger said. "Did you honestly think I meant anything other than actual combat?"

"I figured practical meant 'in use', not only in a specific type of use. I was hoping you'd make practice a bit easier. Or at least have some tips," I sighed, a hand on my hip as I held the conversing sword in front of me.

"Well what else can you use a sword for other than fighting? Chopping wood? Just a side note, don't do that - it isn't good for a blade," Derflinger remarked.

"And what was that about agreeing to teach me?" I asked.

"Trust me," Derflinger pushed. "You'll understand what I mean when you come across an actual fight."

"Duly noted," I muttered before standing up straight and swinging ahead of me - a single forward slash directed downwards. "Might as well get some blind progress in," I said before I raised my blade once again, ready to try a forward step and a horizontal slash from my left to my right-

"Mister Brenner?"

I nearly spun a full 360 degrees from how unexpected the greeting was, and I ended up flopping on the ground before rolling back up with a wobbly stance. Turning in time, I saw Siesta standing a few feet close to where I was a second ago, holding a wooden bucket in her hands. "Oh. Siesta," I said. "Sorry about that."

Siesta, who'd backed away at the last moment - simply giggled. "It's alright. I guess I should be more careful when it comes to someone wielding a blade. Though, what are you doing here?" she asked, acting as if I hadn't almost taken off her head with Derflinger.

"That was close...be careful!" Derflinger hissed once I'd lowered him. I didn't say anything in response - mainly because my heart was still pounding from that near case of friendly fire.

"Well, I heard this exhibition thing was going on, so I decided to get some practice. I don't really wanna make a bad impression on the people here," I explained, sheathing Derflinger on my back as I spoke.

"I see," Siesta said with a giggle as she set her bucket down casually. "Well, you aren't alone. All the other familiars will be trained by their masters for this year's exhibition! And Lady Henrietta herself will be coming by to judge the events herself."

"Who's that? Some kind of noble?" I asked as I sighed. "Man, I really hope she isn't similar to Count Mott or something like that. Not a fan of most nobles."

"Hm? Oh! Oh no, Lady Henrietta isn't like that at all! In fact, she's one of the kindest rulers Tristain has had ever since our former king passed away a few years ago," Siesta quickly said, waving her hands in protest to what I'd assumed. "The princess is not the corrupt or greedy type, I assure you."

"Hmm. Well, I guess I can take your word for it. Though if she demands that I kiss her feet or let her use me as a footrest or something like that, then I'm walking away," I said.

Siesta actually laughed at that, a snorting laugh that caused her to cover her mouth in amused embarrassment. "Oh, you won't have any problem with that, don't worry. Would you like to walk with me?" she asked as she picked up her bucket once more.

"Sure," I said. I pulled my rifle off of my back - it was hoisted over my right shoulder while Derflinger was hoisted over my left shoulder - and began to walk with her.

As we walked, Siesta explained more about the exhibition event - which was more or less a huge school-wide talent show for second years to perform alongside their familiars, with festivities also being thrown for the school in celebration of Lady Henrietta's arrival. Siesta was apparently helping get all of the clothing freshly prepared for the event, such as tablecloths, napkins, and laundry for the formal wear of the staff that would be actively serving the princess.

"I am a bit nervous, I'll admit," Siesta said as we passed plenty of students rehearsing with their familiars in the open fields between school buildings. "I mean, being one of the many waiters and waitresses that would help serve the princess herself? I'm so worried that I might screw up."

"Hey, some of the students were downright obnoxious and you put up with them. If the princess is as kind and patient as you say, then I say you'll do just fine," I said, clapping her on the shoulder. It was a bit odd, given Siesta's soft spoken nature and general shy but kind personality - but I found myself treating her like someone I'd trained with: closer to a friend.

Something in the back of my mind told me that wouldn't end very well given the kiss on the cheek the other night, but I shoved it aside - now wasn't the time for that.

Siesta smiled in response to that before a commotion was heard near us. The both of us turned to see Guiche and his familiar - a giant mole - running from Flame, who was chasing them around with a laughing Kirche in the background.

"Well, they look like they're having fun," I said before turning to look at the kind and beautiful maid. "I shouldn't be taking you too long anyways. I'm sure you're busy."

"Oh! Right," Siesta said. "Thank you for keeping me company and...and I wanted to say thank you again. For saving me." Setting down her bucket, she came over and gripped my left hand, gently holding them affectionately. "And I hope you have a great exhibition."

And with that, she grabbed her bucket and quickly hurried off, leaving me stroking where Siesta had grabbed. "She's a nice girl, isn't she?" Derflinger asked from his place on my back.

"Uh huh," I said before looking down at my left hand, spotting those odd letters on them. The first time I noticed them was back on my first day in this world, and I'd realized that I hadn't paid them any mind ever since - I remembered being occupied with gathering my senses and quickly escaping after that. "Oh yeah, I forgot that I had these."

"The runes?" Derflinger asked. "Ah, those'll come in handy later."

"You know something about them? Like what?" I asked, turning to face the sword that was sticking out of its scabbard on my back.

"Well, have you gotten into any fight where you had to use a weapon? Did anything special happen or did you start feeling something?" Derflinger asked.

"Well...I did have to duel that noble dumbass over there," I said, as I turned and gestured towards the panicking Guiche being chased by the four legged flamethrower. "But I mostly used my rifle. Nothing special about that. Why? Do you know something?"

"I can't exactly say what it is now. But all you really need to know is that it'll come in handy when the situation calls for it," Derflinger said before nestling himself back down, the scabbard meeting the hilt. I didn't know how exactly the sword could defy gravity and move on its own.

"Very helpful, oh mystical talking rusty sword," I said with a scoff.

"And you said you would get to cleaning me up! When's that gonna happen?" a muffled Derflinger demanded from within the sheath.

"Whenever I have actual free time. So not very soon," I sighed before I turned to approach the group of second years, recognizing a few others besides Kirche and Guiche, like Montmorency, Malicorne, and Tabitha. For some reason, I didn't see Tabitha's familiar anywhere. The girl was simply reading a book on her own. Was she not participating in the event?

"Hello, Brenner!" Kirche called, and I found myself ambushed by Flame, who was trying to knock me over with a bunch of nuzzling. I was eventually knocked over successfully by a tackle from Kirche. Before I knew it, I found both of them on top of me, Flame burying my legs under his body and Kirche burying my face in her chest. "I saw that maid with you earlier. Was she the damsel in distress you rescued earlier?" she asked once she finally allowed me to breathe.

"Yeah. Thanks again for giving up that book," I said, shuffling my way out from underneath the two before sitting up. "It was probably important to you."

"It wasn't a big deal, honestly," Kirche said. "I'm simply glad that I could help. After all...now you owe me for it."

"...like I said, I'll get back to you on that..." I said before looking around, seeing Montmorency and her orange frog approaching me from the side. "Hey, Guiche's ex," I said, noticing the big red bow tied around the frog's neck.

"It's Montmorency," she said with a scowl. "And I wanted to thank you for exposing what he did." She whirled a glare at the boy, who was more or less trying to put out the fire on his cloak. "Anyways, what did you do to get Kirche all over you? She usually has high standards for her men."

"She does?" I asked, a bit more incredulously than I probably should've said. Judging by the very nasty scowl on the Zerbst heiress's face, that was more than insulting. "Sorry, I didn't mean to say it like that. What I meant was that...uhh...I'm just a peasant."

"Oh, I know. But even I know that good looks and gentlemanly behavior can go to both nobles and peasants," Kirche said, washing that scowl off her face with a smile - almost as easily as removing leftover food off of a plate with water.

"Uh huh," I said, getting up and adjusting my belt, before double checking myself. Two frag grenades and three smoke grenades. I was beginning to regret using one of my hand grenades so early - those were irreplaceable, like everything I owned.

Unfortunately, that garnered some attention. "I never remembered to ask earlier, but I noticed those odd things you carry on yourself. What are they?" Kirche asked.

"These? They're explosives," I said. That got their attention real fast. Montmorency almost immediately closed the distance while the other students, including Kirche, stepped back instantly. "Whoa, they won't blow up out of nowhere. Don't worry."

"So is that what you used to blow up that knight Guiche summoned?" Malicorne, the chubby student with the owl inquired, peering at me from behind Kirche.

"Yeah. One of them," I said as I looked at Montmorency, who was reaching for one of my smoke grenades on my straps. "Though I'm not really in any other big combat scenario so I shouldn't use them. And no touching. They're dangerous."

"How do they work? Is it some work of alchemy?" Montmorency asked, curiously continuing to reach for one even though I clearly remember telling her not to. I quickly backed away at that, much to her disappointment.

"Yeah. These can deploy colored smoke for friendly troops to spot you," I said, pulling off one of my smoke grenades to show Montmorency - making sure to pull them away before she could try and snatch it from me. It seemed that she was the curious bookworm type. "They're either used for calling in long ranged barrages or used to mark an area as clear. Or you can throw them at the enemy to blind them. Then shoot them through the smoke."

"And the other ones?" Montmorency asked curiously.

"Hand grenades. These ones explode and send sharp broken fragments everywhere. They kill. Or maim. So no touching," I said as I hitched the smoke grenade back on my strap and backed away. "I'm not using one of these again anytime soon. I already wasted one on Playboy McGee's metal bots over there."

I ignored the subsequent and distant "Hey, how dare you!" from Guiche while Montmorency giggled at that remark. "I don't know what 'McGee' is, but it sounds like a very silly word. How fitting!" she scowled at Guiche, who immediately gulped and stepped away. "Would you believe that he hasn't stopped trying to get back with me?" Montmorency scoffed.

"Just you?" I remarked, raising an eyebrow as I crossed my arms.

"Well, as far as I'm aware, but I wouldn't be surprised if he's been propositioning other girls in this school. Though whoever would say yes to him after that duel is simply insane," Montmorency said, her own arms crossed in a haughty way - which I had to admit was a little cute, like a baby sister pouting because she didn't get to play outside. I leaned in, hearing a little gasp from Kirche and an offended gasp from Guiche.

"Well, you should start playing hard to get," I muttered quietly in her ear. "If he really wants you back, he'll probably keep trying. If not, he'll move on. Only way to know for sure is to keep testing him. Though I really don't know what he'll do, so that's entirely up to you..."

Montmorency let out a thoughtful "Hmmm" as she grinned. "Very sound advice..." And with that, she left - leaving Guiche to go after her in an attempt to try and ask her out once again. I stepped back as Guiche's mole scampered its way to follow its master.

"Well, it seems she took whatever you said to heart," Kirche said as she approached me. "What did you tell her, exactly?"

"I basically said keep turning him down until he either gives up, or proves that he really wants her back. A playboy back in the States would usually move on, so I have a feeling Guiche might actually be after her and her alone," I remarked, which definitely had Kirche raising her own eyebrow in question. "Even if that feeling isn't very strong."

"Well, I imagine the next sight of them will be quite amusing indeed," Kirche replied with a giggle.

"Though I'm surprised she even took my advice. I'm a peasant, right?" I asked, thinking back on how Count Mott looked down on those of lower standing - and how likely it was that the nobles would likely do the same thing. "Most of the nobles wouldn't give a damn about what someone without magic thinks. At least, that's what I'm thinking."

"Hmmph! We're not all that bad," Kirche pouted. "And for your information, I told the others about what you did. Peasant or not, storming into a manor and declaring a duel against a very powerful individual to save someone you care about is going to get a lot of attention."

I groaned at Kirche's admission of basically unrecognizably stretching the truth. "That's not what happened. There was no dueling, no real fighting. I literally handed the book over to the Count and - why am I even trying?" I groaned.

Kirche giggled. "Regardless, us nobles are suckers for romantic gestures such as that," she said. "I'm sure that maid appreciates it, and I surely do...don't you agree?" Once again, I found my hand locked in place against her breasts by her own hands, and I quickly looked away.

"Lucky!" I heard Malicorne call from a few feet away.

"I'm not, I'm really really not!" I croaked as I yanked my hand away, somehow snagging one of the few buttons that Kirche bothered to use on her shirt, before running off. "I gotta go, bye!"

"You ripped my shirt? How risque, Mister Brenner!" Kirche called sweetly behind me - and I simply ran faster with Derflinger cackling on my back all the while.

I reached the other side of campus in the span of a minute-long sprint, and I found myself out of breath as Derflinger finally got all the laughter out of his system. "Rejecting a gorgeous girl like that? I don't know what goes on in that mind of yours," he finally remarked.

"I just don't wanna get in trouble with all the guys she's slept with before meeting me," I said, panting to regain my composure while Derflinger hissed. "And suddenly it all makes sense," the sword grumbled.

"Hey, Soldier!" a familiar voice called out from behind me. Before I turned around in time, I was immediately gorilla hugged tightly by a chef. "Thanks for getting our Siesta back!"

"I...ow!" I croaked, pretty sure my legs were currently off the ground before he finally released me. "Heh, well...I couldn't just leave her there."

"As modest and honorable as ever! Are you sure I can't give you a kiss?" the chef heartily laughed.

"Nope! No thanks!" I called, laughing a little myself - not out of nervousness, this time. This man was one of the more fun people to be around in this place. "Well...some food would be nice, actually. Any more leftovers?"

The chef winced. "All I got left are a loaf of bread and some smoked sausages. We haven't had much leftovers since we're cooking so much for the festivities," he said.

"Gotcha," I said, not too surprised as I stretched my arms. "Special events are a lot of work."

"Well, come with me regardless," the chef said, gesturing for me to follow him. "No doubt you're going to be working hard for the exhibition, so you'll need as much good food as possible."

I wasn't about to complain - especially given how true his words were. Following him back to the kitchen, I found that it was packed - full of crates, some open and empty, others shut. Cooks and workers were everywhere, working to prepare all sorts of foods for the event. There was no room at the table, so I ended up eating in the corner, watching as they continued to work.

When I was done, I approached the chef - who was personally handling one of the many huge pots of stew by himself. "Do you need any help?" I asked. "Heavy lifting, that kind of stuff?"

"That's very kind of you, but we're already a bit ahead of schedule. So there's really no need for you to take time out of your day to help us," the chef said as he stirred the pot - before picking up a cutting board that had finely minced onions in it - before sliding them in the stew with an effortless swipe of the knife. "You should probably head back out, you probably have your own duties to worry about."

And with that, I found myself heading out of the kitchen on a full stomach, rifle and Derflinger on my back, and an empty mind on what to do for the exhibition.

"You!"

I turned around to see who'd spoken - only to see an elderly yet tall man, wearing black robes and holding a large staff. "You're Miss Vallière's familiar, are you not?"

"Yeah. Who're you?" I asked, turning to face the man who approached me.

"My name is Osmond, headmaster of the Tristain Academy of Magic," the man said. "And you've caused quite the uproar at our school within the past week."

"In my defense-" I began before the elder man cut me off.

"No need, I'm aware of a lot of what's been happening, and I approve," Osmond said. "Few have the noble spirit and righteous courage that has been described by some of our own students, and much of the staff as well."

"Oh. Well, it wasn't much," I mumbled. "Just wanted to not do nothing."

"That's reason enough to do the right thing," the man said. "But I wanted to talk to you, mostly about something in particular." He pointed at my helmet, much to my confusion. "Where did you obtain it?"

"My helmet? It's a U.S. helmet," I said. "Every soldier in the Army gets one. And the Navy. And the Marines. A lot of branches get it issued."

"I see," Osmond said. "So you and the Stave of Destruction are from the same place."

"The what?" I asked.

"I see," Osmond said as he turned to the main building, with the tallest tower at the center of the school grounds. "Follow me, please. I'll be able to explain this more in greater detail."

I was a bit uncertain about this, but he was the headmaster - or principal in American terms, so I couldn't really afford to disobey him. We entered the main building and eventually made it to the office at the very top after walking up a very long spiraling staircase.

His office was a spacious circular room, with couches and several bookshelves and cabinets between each window. There was a large desk to the left of the door, and I saw a rather pretty looking woman with neat green hair and glasses. The woman looked up from her seat to face me, and I tipped the visor of my helmet politely. "Ma'am," I said. She simply smiled and went back to her work - which was apparently paperwork.

Osmond approached one of the windows, opening it and letting in a fresh breeze from high up in the air. "Ah, that's better. You'd think an office with plenty of space such as this would be less stuffy," he said casually.

"Well, the wind does tend to come in and cause messes with all the work I do, so I would prefer it if the window is closed," the woman sighed. "It makes my job easier, after all."

"Ah, the wind isn't harmful in the slightest. And your workspace does come with paperweights, if I recall," Osmond said as he sat at his desk, reaching for something in a drawer. When he moved his hand, I saw that it was some elaborate pipe that looked like a genie lamp from children's stories.

"You only prefer the open windows because you think it will hide the smell of that obscene pipe of yours," the woman said. As if on cue, the pipe began to float from the headmaster's hands and onto her own desk. "Do I have to repeat myself, headmaster? Smoking is bad for your health, especially at your age."

"Hm," I mumbled as I watched the back and forth between the headmaster and the woman, who was apparently his secretary or assistant of sorts. "Mind if I smoke, ma'am?" I don't know why I decided to ask that - maybe it was from the suspense I was feeling over why the headmaster had called me up here. Was it just to witness this banter of sorts?

"Hm? I don't mind. As long as it's by the window," the woman said, much to Osmond's surprise if that disbelieved croaking sound were to say anything about it. Maybe she simply wanted to piss him off in her own way. I moved over to the window and looked outside, seeing all of the preparations. "By the way, I don't think we've introduced ourselves before. I've heard quite a bit from Professor Colbert," the assistant said.

"I don't think so, and that guy and I did have a pretty long talk a while ago. My name's Brenner," I said, taking out my matchbook and a single cigarette from the packet I'd opened a while back - taking the second cigarette out and lighting it by the window.

"Call me Longueville," the woman said with a smile as I breathed in. So she went by surname only as well? That wasn't so bad. "Anyways, I believe Headmaster Osmond called you over to tell you something."

"Indeed," the headmaster said, getting over his own loss of the chance to smoke - though clearly envious as he eyed my own drug stick in my mouth. "Since Miss Vallière has summoned you, I've wanted to ask my own questions, and perhaps provide a few answers to some of your own inquiries."

"Hm?" I asked, lowering my cigarette as I eyed the headmaster. "What do you mean by that?"

"Someone in an outfit and a helmet just like you has appeared here before," Osmond said. I nearly dropped my cigarette, and I stepped towards the man before he held up a hand. "I'm afraid that man is deceased - has been for quite some time. I was a younger mage when it happened, you see."

"Did he have any markings on his helmet? Any identification?" I quickly asked. "What did he have with him?"

"I do not know. They were all in languages I couldn't recognize," Osmond said. "I don't know where he came from, or how he was summoned. I ran into him by accident when attempting to escape a dragon. I would've died if not for him and his Stave of Destruction..."

I blinked. A dragon? They were real here as well? But something else stood out to me. "You said the Stave of Destruction just now. I think you mentioned it before," I said.

"Indeed. He was holding a staff, a very big staff. Green and wide. He'd fired some kind of explosive spell out of it. The man was wounded in ways I'd never seen before and I tried to nurse him back to health as best as I could. But with the nature of his injuries, there was no way I could save him..."

A big staff? Green and wide? An explosive spell? I quickly slammed my hands on the desk, an epiphany in my own head. "He had a bazooka?" I demanded, and I realized how frantic I sounded.

"A...bazooka?" Osmond asked. Longueville had stopped her own work when I spoke up.

"Bazookas...they aren't a kind of magic staff. They're weapons built by my military. Well, dozens of militaries around the world, I think. Basically handheld cannons designed to destroy fortifications and armored vehicles," I said, sighing as I began to recall what I could. "My country back at home builds thousands of them. And the country we're at war with builds them as well."

"T-thousands?" Osmond croaked, with a small gasp from Longueville behind me. "But...if a dragon could be killed by one-"

I quickly inhaled another breath from my cigarette to try and calm down. "Like I said, they're designed to punch through defenses like heavy metal and concrete buildings," I said as I leaned closer, still a little giddy over this new revelation. "Where is it? I need to see it."

"The first stave he used was buried with his body, with great honors," Osmond explained. "And the second is kept in our own vault, right here in the Institute." Two bazookas? Wait, teams were only ever given one, and even if there were multiple, a single soldier wouldn't risk two bazookas on one target.

Something seemed off, but at the moment, I didn't care. "Do you think...I could see it?" I asked carefully as I looked down. "I need to make sure this is real, and what I'm hearing isn't something...wrong."

"I'll fit in time to take you down to our vault," Osmond said. "But not today, I'm afraid. Our own festivities take precedence, so I deeply apologize."

"No...no it's fine," I said. "I'm just glad you told me. I might finally get some answers...even if these ones won't help me get back home."

Osmond closed his eyes before speaking once more. "I'm aware you've built many friends with my students and staff," he said. "If it comes to leaving Miss Vallière's side, as well as Miss Zerbst and so many others, would you do it?"

His question gave me pause. "...I think I would. Don't get me wrong, I really do care about them, but my country is at war. Thousands could be dying while I'm here. We're on the front lines, and we could be getting pushed back for all I could possibly know," I said. "There's my family to think of, my own squadmates. My friends-"

"Calm down, I only asked you to think about it," Osmond said. "I know it is quite the dilemma, and I'm sure I would struggle to choose if I were in your shoes. I simply ask you to be certain of your choice."

I sighed, calming down. "I will. Thanks," I said.

Osmond grinned under his neatly combed mustache and long beard. "Come with me, Mister Brenner. Lady Henrietta will be arriving soon, and the entire school must be ready to greet her. And I'm sure you have your own exhibition to worry about," he said.

I stomped out my half burned cigarette and brushed the ashes off of the headmaster's desk as his words finally sank in. "The exhibition. Right..." I mumbled, having completely forgotten about it.

I'm definitely gonna need another cigarette.