I Stopped Simping and the Heroines Lost Their Minds

One week later, Arthur finished Morwenna’s combat theory class with sore shoulders from another round of close-range escape drills. The plain support band around his wrist had become familiar enough that he barely noticed it during ordinary lessons.

Before anyone could leave, Morwenna ordered the class to remain seated and closed the hall doors.

”The Founders’ Fair begins in five days,” she announced from the front podium. ”The academy will display your practical training, attract guild representatives, and reassure your families that their tuition is producing something besides infirmary bills.”

The room filled with nervous whispers while Morwenna unrolled the assignment sheet.

Leon’s squad received the formal exhibition in the center ring. Alicia would lead the controlled dueling portion, Elara would run an archery demonstration, and Cedric was responsible for the barriers protecting the spectators.

Morwenna continued down the parchment until she reached the final assignment.

”Squad 7 will operate a dungeon-survival and Obsidian Hand recruitment pavilion.”

Arthur raised his hand before she could move on.

Morwenna looked toward the back row. ”What now, Vance?”

”Public reassurance and Squad 7 should never appear in the same assignment.”

Several students laughed. Morwenna waited for the noise to die without changing expression.

”That is why your pavilion will be placed at the edge of the courtyard under staff supervision,” she said. ”Try not to prove the placement necessary.”

Arthur lowered his hand. It was not the reassignment he had hoped for, but it was the most optimism Morwenna was willing to offer.

She dismissed the class before anyone else could object.

An hour later, Squad 7 occupied their usual dining-hall table while Felix transformed the free academy event into a business proposal.

His first version charged visitors two silver pieces for every demonstration and another copper merely to enter the pavilion. Chloe stopped drinking long enough to remind him that the Founders’ Fair was advertised as free.

Felix adjusted his glasses and argued that the academy had provided the space for free, not their expertise. Arthur ended the debate by drawing a line through the entrance fee.

”The demonstrations stay free.”

Felix stared at the ruined calculation for several seconds before beginning a new column. Wooden commemorative tokens, printed guild maps, and priority access to the participation line replaced the entrance charge.

Emily leaned across the table to read the new heading. ”You found a way to sell standing closer to the front?”

”People with money dislike waiting beside people who have less money.”

Chloe crossed out the priority fee before he finished explaining it.

With Felix’s first business model defeated, they moved on to the actual pavilion. Emily wanted a padded monster plate that visitors could strike, though the weight she proposed would have left most civilians unable to move it. Chloe added a first-aid station beside it, partly for education and partly because she did not trust Emily’s attraction to public impact demonstrations.

Arthur proposed a moving-target archery challenge using harmless mana markers instead of real arrows. Felix approved once he realized that participation tokens could be sold without charging anyone to watch.

By the end of the meal, the pavilion had three stations: controlled impact, basic first aid, and moving-target archery. Sylvia would supply Obsidian Hand recruitment pamphlets, while Felix would handle the tokens and whatever merchandise she allowed him to sell.

Emily continued increasing the practice plate’s weight whenever Chloe looked away. Chloe kept reducing it and crossing dangerous items from Felix’s supply list.

Arthur ate while the two of them fought over the final numbers. For once, his contribution appeared to be the safest part of the plan.

By mid-afternoon, the academy courtyard was crowded with workers raising pavilions, carrying benches, and unloading decorations from a line of cargo wagons.

Arthur carried a stack of wooden targets toward Squad 7’s assigned space. As he passed the third wagon, the merchant mark branded into one of its crates caught his attention.

He had seen the same mark in Sylvia’s ledger beside Tolan’s contaminated mineral shipment.

Arthur set the targets beside the pavilion and memorized the number painted beneath the seal. The workers continued unloading the crate with the rest of the decorative materials.

”Is there a problem with your supplies, Cadet Vance?”

Elena approached with several senior faculty inspectors. Her silver hair was pinned neatly behind her head, and nothing in her expression suggested that Arthur had left her private workroom with his shirt buttoned incorrectly one week earlier.

Arthur picked up the pavilion layout before answering.

”No problem, Professor. I was checking where the equipment will be placed.”

Elena stopped beside him while the other inspectors moved ahead. Arthur showed her the rear boundary of the pavilion and quietly gave her the wagon and crate numbers.

”It carries the same reseller mark as the guild shipment.”

Her attention passed across the wagon without lingering. She instructed him to record the number and allow the normal inspection to continue.

Arthur accepted the order without arguing, questioning her judgment, or suggesting that he investigate the delivery himself.

”Understood, Professor.”

Elena gave the pavilion layout one final glance before rejoining the inspection group.

At the supply table nearby, Chloe paused while arranging rolls of bandages. She had heard none of the quiet conversation, but she had seen Arthur accept Elena’s instruction without trying to change it.

Her eyes followed him as he returned to the wooden targets.

Arthur noticed the look. ”What?”

”Nothing.”

Chloe resumed unpacking, though she placed the same roll of bandage into the field kit twice before realizing it was already there.

An hour later, the staff placed copies of the final delivery manifest beside the courtyard gates so each pavilion could collect its supply list.

Arthur found the number from the third wagon. The crate contained decorative crystal pieces and had been assigned to the display directly behind Squad 7’s pavilion.

He circled the entry on their copy and carried it back to Chloe.

She was arranging bottles inside the first-aid station when he placed the manifest beside her hand.

”This crate has the same merchant mark as Tolan’s contaminated shipment,” Arthur said. ”Elena wants the normal inspection to continue, so we leave it alone. Just remember the number.”

Chloe read the circled entry, then looked past the pavilion toward the workers moving the decorative crates.

”And if it cracks?”

”Keep people away from it and find Elena.”

Chloe folded the manifest and slipped it into the outer pocket of her field kit. When she returned to arranging the station, she positioned the clean cloths and washing bottles where she could reach them without opening the main compartment.

Behind the pavilion, the marked crate remained sealed among the other decorations.