My Beloved Princess ~The Boy Called Incompetent Rises with Only a Sword and the Princess's Devotion~ - Chapter 89: The Birth of the Upper School’s Largest Faction

White chalk writing was packed tightly across the blackboard.

Tsukino was diligently copying that dense string of characters into her notebook, even though it was hard to make out unless one strained their eyes.

Instructor Hyōri’s board work was detailed to the point of neurosis, and on top of that, the sheer amount of text was atrocious, so it was extremely unpopular with the students. As for Kishō, he had already given up on transcribing all of it and only tried to copy down the main points. The other students did the same, but Tsukino alone was different. She carefully copied everything, determined not to make a mistake in even a single word.

The bell marking the end of class had rung long ago, and the classroom, once crowded with students, was now empty and silent. There was no one left but Kishō and the others.

In the quiet school building, only the sound of Tsukino’s quill scratching across the page echoed through the room.

Tsukino faced her desk as if clinging to it, her eyes serious. Her intent gaze moved back and forth between the blackboard and her notebook again and again, and elegant strokes of her pen steadily filled the page.

Kishō wanted to pat the diligent girl on the head, but deciding that would only get in the way, he held himself back. Letting his gaze drift to the blackboard ahead, he thought vaguely to himself.

Two weeks had passed since the alliance with Sōgetsu had been concluded.

In those two weeks, the Upper School had changed greatly. Using that alliance as a catalyst, the largest faction in the Upper School had been born.

Apparently, in noble society it was common practice to show respect toward powerful dragonkin and maintain friendly relations with them. That was because conflict with the strong brought more harm than benefit. Dragonkin might have a warlike nature, but nobles knew how to suppress their own fighting spirit.

That was also why the Upper School students had recognized Kishō’s strength early on and started treating him more amicably.

And in the Upper School, where noble sons and daughters gathered, it was customary to build relationships with powerful people and form factions. Normally, three major factions would emerge, centered on the top student of each grade. But the alliance with Sōgetsu had leapt right over that framework and reached the point of creating a vast faction spanning both the first and second years.

“Naturally. Princess Kuroyō was the Upper School’s top student, after all. Once she combines with you, who defeated Shishiten-kun, it is like having two top students. And if Suiren and I join as well, then we can absorb even the students who refused to yield until now.”

Those were Sōgetsu’s own pleased words regarding the birth of the largest faction.

“As for threatening you using Tsukino as a pretext, I apologize. However, it was necessary to conclude an alliance with you even if I had to use dirty means. You may not believe it, but I was not lying when I said I valued you that highly.”

According to Sōgetsu, diplomacy in the Upper School was not a game.

“The friendships built within a faction continue even after graduation, and they function as lifelines out in the wilderness. Since the size of one’s faction is directly linked to one’s survival rate, the alliance with Kishō-kun alone was worth a thousand pieces of gold.”

Even if they called it a faction, there was no clearly defined leader. That was a custom meant to preserve the independence of each flock, and it was standard not to establish a strict hierarchy within a faction. A faction was positioned purely as a community connecting flocks.

However, since this faction had been created with the alliance between Kishō and Sōgetsu as its core, their words carried tremendous weight throughout the whole group.

If they called for improving the treatment of slaves, then those who did not wish to damage their relationship with Kishō and the others had no choice but to respond, however reluctantly. That influence was far stronger than when the Princess alone had been preaching about the “duty of the powerful dragonkin.”

“As long as there is power, dragonkin society can be changed in any number of ways.”

Those were the words Princess Suiren had left behind after watching the Upper School transform completely in just a few days.

She had said that even after one became an adult dragon and governed a large flock, that would not change. The ties between nobles were close, and if one did not want hostility, then one had to account for the wishes of the other side. When opinions clashed, war followed.

Perhaps that was true of human society too. But in dragonkin society, the trigger for war was light enough that it could be pulled with the slightest touch.

That was why they formed alliances and worked to keep from making enemies in every direction.

And powerful dragonkin could always maneuver to their advantage in diplomacy. The diplomacy game played within the academy was a microcosm of dragonkin society itself.

“There’s no longer anyone who can make fun of you. At this rate, won’t everything go smoothly even after graduation? As expected of Onee-sama’s… no, it’s nothing.”

Those had been Kōran’s words.

It should be added that she had looked a little embarrassed when she said them.

The central figure of the Upper School’s largest faction.

There was no longer anyone in the Upper School who mocked Kishō as a commoner. No one scorned him as a half-dragon, and no one laughed at his lack of an aptitude attribute.

In the Lower School, there were still many who made fun of Kishō, but in the Upper School the opposite had happened. Noble sons and daughters had decisively shifted toward treating him on friendly terms.

Just then, Tsukino raised her face.

When Kishō glanced at her notebook, she still had not finished copying everything down. Thinking a break might do her good, he started a conversation.

“The boys in the Lower School really don’t get along. The Upper School feels like a completely different world.”

“Master. Is there no diplomacy in the Lower School?”

“Yeah. The mainstream way of thinking is that every man besides yourself is an enemy.”

“With that, they cannot live long.”

“It might just be the difference in education. Nobles receive a gifted education from the moment they are born. So even if dragonkin instinct whispers at them to fight, they have the reason and intelligence to reject it. In that sense, their way of thinking is actually closer to humans.”

Even in human society, differences in education showed themselves vividly.

Whether it was reading and writing, the breadth of one’s knowledge, or one’s manners, the contents differed, but there was no doubt that such things worked in one’s favor when it came to living.

“But commoners don’t get that kind of education. So what happens? They kill each other following their dragonkin instincts. Naturally, the survival rate drops. Thinking about it that way, Kōran’s concern was reasonable too. I need to get better at controlling myself.”

It was an earnest remark, the kind made by someone trying to learn the ABCs of noble society and change himself. Kishō meant it as a reflection on his own conduct, but unusually, Tsukino objected.

“No, Master. Tsukino was saved because Master was not bound by noble common sense. Tsukino wants you to remain the Master who can think freely.”

She clenched both fists tightly as she said it.

Once more, Kishō let his gaze drift vaguely toward the blackboard.

“Come to think of it, Kuroyō said something similar too.”

It was during the meeting where Kishō, the Princess, Sōgetsu, and Princess Suiren had gathered together to sign and seal the alliance.

Kishō had felt guilty for deciding on the alliance on his own. In response, the Princess had placed a hand over her chest, as though confirming her own heartbeat, and said:

“You should do what you believe is right. Whatever decision you make, I intend to support you with all my strength.”

Those pale pink lips had said it so movingly that Kishō had been deeply affected. The lover he was seeing again after so long was as beautiful as ever, and the strong-willed black eyes fixed on him had softened defenselessly.

Before he knew it, forgetting even that they were in public, he had wrapped his arms around her slender body with all his strength. The warmth of her body after so long, the faint sweet fragrance drifting from her—her face, tilted down as though rubbing her forehead against his chest, had been tinged with a light blush.

“There are decisions that only you, who were born and raised in human society, can make. The matter of Tsukino is one of them. I am proud that I can walk together with you into the era that is to come.”

By learning noble common sense and broadening one’s knowledge, one’s chances of survival rose.

However, that also meant being dyed by the rules of noble society. For example, if one came to see slaves as a natural part of the world, then the very idea of trying to help them would never even occur. That was why Tsukino had been forced to endure for so long.

And the only ones who could break through that hopeless stagnation were heretics—people capable of doubting what society called common sense.

The Princess had said that because Kishō possessed different values, revolution could become reality.

“Kuroyō-sama was a kind person.”

At Tsukino’s voice, Kishō lifted his face from his recollection.

“It’s good that Kuroyō accepted you.”

“Yes. She told me, Let us support our master together. Let us liven up the flock together. She recognized me as a comrade.”

As Tsukino spoke excitedly, large tears began to gather in her eyes.

“That is why Tsukino will study hard and do my best to be useful!”