After that day, Ivan was able to return to being a peaceful gardener for a week.
That is, except for Asidis who occasionally charged at him with a blade whenever their eyes met. She was turning into an aggression-type monster.
Not a particularly welcome change for a non-aggressive civilized person.
In any case, the chaos that erupted in Pritzenkaya was resolved within a week.
Given the scale of the incident and its aftermath, it should have been impossible to wrap everything up in a week, but fortunately, Pritzenkaya had a competent intelligence agency (one that prioritized internal intelligence).
Dmitri wanted to boast about this beautiful conclusion that he and his subordinates had created. He would have liked to announce his meritorious service to everyone, but right now, he was in no position to do so.
"Thud!"
"Urrrghh!?"
"Your posture is sloppy. Again."
"You son of... I swear..."
"Again."
He was currently doing a handstand with his head pressed against the floor.
Looking around, he was among strange junior agents who were eagerly doing handstands while gazing at Ivan with sparkling eyes.
No principles or self-respect... Dmitri lamented the weak mental fortitude of today's generation of intelligence agents as he corrected his posture.
The man before them was, besides the Hero Party, the only human with a record of personally slaying a Seven-Dragon Commander.
So it wasn't fear, but rather...
Respect?
Respect. Yes. During the most intense period of the war, he was a veteran who had served in the Annihilation Squad, the predecessor to the Counter-Intelligence Command.
Yes, respect. Definitely not fear. Why? There was no reason to be afraid. Both he and that senior officer were the same rank (Lieutenant Colonel). Besides, he was still young, so if he got promoted, that would be something to see.
"Ah, Lieutenant Colonel Petrovich. You've come?"
"What? Oh, sorry. When there aren't enough stripes on your rank insignia, your voice gets weaker. I couldn't hear well, so could you perhaps speak in a more crisp voice? Ahem. Bring me some 'Colonel' water, 'Lieutenant Colonel.' Hahaha. Well, once a soldier, always a soldier, even after retirement..."
"Ah, wait a moment. Let's use words, sir. Let's just talk, sir. Ah."
"I'm sorry. No, I really am sorry. I'm apologizing. No, I wasn't being informal. When did I ever?"
"Ah, that potion, no, please put that down."
"...Urgh."
Dmitri, who was getting beaten up in his imagination, quietly closed his eyes.
Yes, it was respect.
Only after whipping the Counter-Intelligence Command into shape did Ivan finally understand their lengthy explanation.
Planting explosives, well, that's one thing.
The Royal Guard's preparation for rebellion...? Must have been difficult to stop. Impressive that they detected it in advance.
Dwarves from underground...? What's that about...?
Destruction of the Crown Prince faction's communication network in the House of Nobles, detention of the current king, theft from the national treasury and treasure vault. Oh, impressive.
After roughly comprehending these incidents that Pritzenkaya had to endure on the same day, and listening to desperate explanations ("Senior, we tried not to touch your area of work at all, haha, I guess we hadn't built enough rapport with the field agents. Ahahaha."), he nodded.
He understood that the Counter-Intelligence Command had been busy.
But wasn't the Counter-Intelligence Command supposed to be busy in the first place?
Sometimes it seemed these uncivilized pre-modern people had a tendency not to consider the obvious as obvious.
To make an extreme comparison, it was like praising a knife for being sharp or a pen for producing ink.
Was he supposed to understand that the Counter-Intelligence Command was too busy with intelligence activities to protect their primary subjects?
It wasn't like that in my day. While I was working as a scout for the Hero Party, I simultaneously infiltrated enemy territory, stole information, and sabotaged key assets. (This is true.)
Why can't today's young people handle even one such task? It was truly deplorable.
So Ivan dedicated the entire weekend to mental training for the Counter-Intelligence Command.
The agents of the Counter-Intelligence Command were happy to receive direct mentoring from the founder of their current workplace.
Ivan was pleased that Pritzenkaya's intelligence agents had become more elite.
And Dmitri was saddened by having to come to work on weekends without pay and being forced to participate in training that wasn't in the semi-annual training plan.
After a lengthy lecture, Dmitri, sitting on the sofa with trembling legs, barely managed to open his mouth.
"Um, senior. Are you going to school tomorrow?"
"I have to."
"Well, um... ah... His Majesty told me not to mention this yet, so I really can't say it. Um. Soon... royal favor? Yes, royal favor. There will be royal favor."
"Royal favor?"
"Yes, soon means—considering our monarch's personality—probably tomorrow... Please dress neatly when you come to work tomorrow. If possible, trim your beard a bit."
"I don't think I'm in a position to receive a public investigation."
"Yes, well, we're all like that. But I have a feeling it might be a very private commendation rather than a public one. You know? That intimate thing between a man and a woman."
Ivan rose with an amused smile at this nonsense not worth considering.
As a rational adult, not an adolescent boy, he could reasonably guess the princess's position.
Though she had just completely solidified her political standing, the princess ultimately had to decline the throne succession. There wasn't sufficient justification to depose a perfectly functional king.
The Crown Prince being kidnapped and terrorism in the capital were not the king's fault. (That's how it was officially declared.) The moment someone criticizes the king's incompetence, the entire military system of the capital, including the Counter-Intelligence Command, would be purged.
No matter how much influence the House of Nobles had gained, such a sight should not be seen. The military system, including the Capital Guard Division, was naturally the front yard of the high nobles.
Therefore, the king is not incompetent. It was just that a few incompetent treacherous officials had been blinding the king. With that conclusion, succeeding the throne would rather become a target of criticism.
So, the princess officially cannot bestow any kind of "royal favor" on the Counter-Intelligence Command or Ivan himself. No country openly rewards its secret agents in the first place.
But no matter how unreliable Dmitri might be, he wasn't the type to joke about matters related to the princess.
Ivan returned to the orphanage lost in thought.
Suddenly, he noticed the peeling paint on the orphanage wall. Even with major capital investments in building beautification every six months, it looked like this. (It was because the orphans climbed on the walls.)
If they're going to give something, money would be nice.
Ivan nodded and headed to the director's office.
As recalled once before, if there is one principle in all academy stories, it is this:
The academy principal (or chancellor) is the strongest person in the world.
Yes. For some reason, instead of experienced administrative officials, genius magicians (with the appearance of children) or semi-immortal masters from previous generations (also with the appearance of children) often occupied these positions.
Come to think of it, Dumbledore was also the strongest in Europe, which is why he was able to successfully prevent the British Dark Lord (whose life goal was to attack a combined elementary, middle, and high school educational facility). Looking at Hogwarts after Dumbledore's death, this is highly credible.
If one were to name the strongest person in this world at this time, several powerful figures from the previous generation could be discussed. However, they were sensible people, so they had neither reason nor leisure to take on the position of university chancellor.
Meanwhile, if asked to name the "strongest in Pritzenkaya," there happens to be one person who is "from an administrative official background," "commands the simultaneous obedience of the military, treasury, judiciary, and legislature," "yet now has no official position and is ready to take on an honorary role," and "coincidentally is of marriageable age."
What does it matter whether one's physical strength is the greatest or not? No matter how primitive the pre-modern era was, even on Earth, people who held power solely through force disappeared with the end of ancient times.
Naturally, "strongest" means the person who holds "the strongest power."
Indeed.
The strongest in Pritzenkaya.
Elizabeta Kirillovna Krasilov, on Monday morning, safely sent the (former) chancellor home after he came to work without any thought (the Krasilov family doesn't provide retirement benefits), and then proceeded with a complete renovation of the chancellor's office.
"Ah, use ebony wood there."
"Yes, Your Maj—I mean, I apologize! Your Highness!!"
"Don't stand on ceremony like that. I've come here as the chancellor, haven't I?"
"Yes, Chancellor!!"
The work of transforming the chancellor's office into the Crown Palace office was surprisingly completed within the morning. In Pritzenkaya, they grind through people instead of time. For reference, unlike time, humans are a renewable resource.
Sitting in the chancellor's office that had become somewhat habitable (meaning it was only about 50% as luxurious as the Crown Palace), Elizabeta finally nodded to the guard officer.
"Now bring 'him' here."
"I obey your command, Your Majesty."
"Ahem."
"Yes, Chancellor."
Without daring to suggest that if she wanted to be treated as chancellor, she should leave the royal guards at the palace, the guard officer bowed with a subtle expression and left the chancellor's office.
Elizabeta stretched and looked out the window.
The campus on this bright summer day was full of energetic students, as if unrelated to the recent chaos.
Enviable.
Elizabeta had never attended school. In this world where the concept of formal education doesn't exist, higher education is mostly handled through home education.
Half of her childhood was spent in the palace, and the other half on battlefields. The education she received focused on noble etiquette, court etiquette, military science, political science, and theories of monarchy.
This means she never had the experience of smiling brightly and hanging out in groups with peers. Moreover, there wasn't much age difference between her and those students. (She considers anyone within a 10-year age gap as her peer. Therefore, Ivan is also her peer.)
"Hmm..."
The official announcement of her appointment as chancellor of St. Yansk University should have reached the House of Nobles by now. Those old men must be quite heated.
St. Yansk University is an internationally renowned institution. Therefore, nobles strive to get their children admitted to this school not only out of educational zeal but also as part of international social activities.
Thinking about this in reverse:
If she completely occupies the university, most of Pritzenkaya's nobles would effectively have their hostages in her hands.
Elizabeta smiled coldly. It was a smile befitting the ruler of a shogunate, a monarch controlling the darkness of the kingdom.
An excellent monarch knows how to gain dozens of advantages with a single policy. The position of university chancellor is not just a threat to the House of Nobles.
No, that's merely a secondary goal. If it were just about appeasing the House of Nobles, there would have been many other ways.
So, her true tactical objective...
"Chancellor. I've brought him."
"Let him in."
With a subtle expression that didn't question at all why she wanted to be called chancellor if she was going to use such speech, the guard officer opened the door to the chancellor's office.
Behind him entered a man wearing cleanly washed work clothes with a fluffy towel around his neck.
"You've come."
"...Yes."
"Sit down. I have much to say."
The man looked at Elizabeta occupying the chancellor's office for a moment, surveyed the completely transformed chancellor's office, then briefly looked at the ceiling and muttered.
No chance of getting money now.
However, since that wasn't the kind of courtesy one should show before royal blood, the sensible and polite man soon sat down on the sofa.