Musou Knight: Crow of Cinders-Chapter 62: Entrance Ceremony 1

Chapter 62 - Entrance Ceremony 1

The gathering field stretched wide, barren as a football pitch. Weapon racks and training dummies surrounded the area. Wooden spectator stands rose above the perimeter, offering visitors a clear view of the candidates assembled below.

By the time we arrived, servants and relatives of the aspiring knights had already claimed seats in the stands. The assigned knights and personal attendants, however, remained behind their masters. Lenitia mirrored the other knights, positioning herself behind me. Thankfully, she had taken my advice and kept her helmet on, so no "young master" hit on her.

We slipped into the middle of the crowd, blending with the mass of candidates. Despite my crimson attire, I hardly stood out because the gowns and garb of others were so gaudy and bright that my red coat seemed modest in comparison.

We waited for half an hour as more people streamed in, filling the stands until the field buzzed with anticipation.

The bell tower behind the academy tolled, and a man with a familiar face stepped onto the stage.

"Ah, crap," I muttered before I could stop myself.

That bastard, Paul Xess—the pompous elitist who had once denied me my wage—made his appearance instead of Alfred, the true dean of the academy. So much for a smooth entrance ceremony.

Paul’s gaze swept across the candidates until it landed on me. His smirk was all too familiar. Then he launched into his speech.

"I am Paul Xess, the Grand Commander of the Cavalry Division. I’ll be overseeing today’s entrance ceremony. As you know, this is Frogine Fort Academy, the finest knight academy in our nation! Traditionally, we accept only the talented and noble-born. But this year, Lord Louis Zen has graciously allowed filthy commoners to join... at a reasonable price, of course. Be grateful!"

The crowd stirred. Nobles looked smug, while wealthy commoners grimaced. At the edges of the field, teenagers in threadbare clothes turned pale.

Were they here because of Louis Zen’s scholarship program, or had local knights scouted them? I had no idea. Still, it was obvious Paul had pulled strings to weed out anyone too ordinary. I couldn’t blame him since academies thrived on rich, stupid aristocrats.

Paul pressed on. "Graduates of this academy are guaranteed to reach level 4, rivaling generals from lesser nations! Last year alone, we produced ten level-5 knights. And let me remind you, a level 5 knight is considered a national treasure in Avaritia, Constantia, and beyond. Yet my cavalry division alone boasts a hundred, not counting infantry or logistics!"

Typical villain nation. Invidia’s military power ranked among the top five nations during the first campaign arc.

I raised an eyebrow at Lenitia. She looked just as stunned.

"Really?" I whispered.

"This is the first I’ve heard of it. You didn’t know?"

"Not a clue. Guess you can really get stronger here."

Her eyes gleamed beneath the visor. She seemed fired up.

Paul’s voice continued. "As you know, we are at war with Avaritia this year, thanks to that despicable Zoli Diripio. Every graduate will be dispatched to the battlefield if the war lasts that long. Because of this, the curriculum will be harsher than ever. Half of you may not make it. If you fail, you’ll be expelled or shoved into the militia division, doomed to serve as squires for life. But if you survive all of our training curriculum, you’ll gain wealth, authority, power, women! Everything you desire will be in your grasp!"

His speech was so ridiculous I nearly facepalmed. Who thought this idiot was fit to inspire knight candidates? 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

Yet the nobles cheered. Merchant families had ambitious glows in their eyes. Even the poor squires at the edges gazed at him like he was some kind of idol.

Good lord. How desperate could they be?

"But first things first."

The crowd hushed. Paul turned toward me and sneered.

What do you want, ass-hat?

"Among you, there will be a hierarchy. Out of 250 candidates, 200 will join regular classes. Ten will earn the honor of the royal knight class, with the finest benefits our academy offers. The rest will be dumped into the squire class. Don’t expect support there. If you end up in that gutter, blame your own incompetence!"

Right. The hierarchy system. I had almost forgotten.

Rickson, the protagonist of fallen Constantia, had gone through the same ordeal at Garuda Stand’s knight academy. He clawed his way up from the squire class to the royal knight class in just two years. By graduation, he was level 4, while his sworn brothers hit level 5.

As for me? I had no plot armor. I doubted I would ever match their achievements.

"And now," Paul’s sneer stretched wider, "to those exceptional ten who received invitation letters, step forward and stand on the stage behind me. Your followers may stand in front."

I knew it. It was doxxing time.

Lenitia patted my shoulder. "I hope you didn’t burn through all your musou energy last night."

I smirked. "Haven’t you read the scroll? Dual-cultivation restores and enhances both parties’ musou cores. I’m in my peak condition today."

A puff of warm, transparent smoke slipped from her helmet. She grumbled, "S-shut up. You leech! Immoral! Pervert!"

"Your voice is leaking."

"..."

She clamped her mouth shut, silencing the feminine tone. Then she marched with me to the front.

Nine other teams stepped forward too. Their plain uniforms were weighed down with badges, giving them the aura of hardened veterans. Twenty-seven towering knights formed a column before the stage, backs to us, facing the crowd. Lenitia joined their ranks.

I was the last to mount the stage. The nine candidates glanced at me, then dismissed me with indifference. My uniform probably screamed "My-father-is-a-nobleman," which meant the aristocrat bullies wouldn’t bother picking a fight with me for no reason.

Standing among the elite, I faced the crowd. The nobles in the stands and the candidates below glared at me. I didn’t need musou or a sixth sense to feel their murderous intent.

"A level 2?"

The words slipped from a knight in the crowd.

Others frowned, pointing fingers at me.

"Impossible. Everyone on stage is level 3. How did a level 2 get chosen?"

A nobleman erupted. "Lord Xess! My son is level 3! A heaven’s chosen earth knight candidate! Why does some trashy level 2 get the privilege while my son is stuck with the others?"

Oh, boy. This pattern again. I wanted to cry.

Not the underestimation cliché.

What’s next? A face-slapping scene?