Chapter 26: The Eldritch Goddess Is the Secretary

The academy was in an uproar after the cult incident, but school life carried on nonetheless.

Today, there was to be a meeting to decide the budget allocations for the various student clubs—or so Klaus had told me. I was planning to attend as the student council secretary, responsible for recording the minutes.

“Iris!”

“Frieda. What’s the matter?”

Frieda had bounced back quickly after everything that happened. She hadn’t recalled anything about the incident and was back to her usual self.

“So, the budget meeting’s today, right?”

“Yes, that’s right. I’ll be attending as the secretary.”

Lately, I’d started to feel oddly proud of being the student council’s secretary. Probably because I overheard other students saying things like “Did you hear? Lady Iris is a student council officer!” and “Wow! People like that really are built different!”

Honestly? I love being praised so straightforwardly!

“I have a favor to ask.”

“A favor? That’s rare for you, Frieda. What is it?”

Normally, I’m the one who relies on Frieda for everything, so this was truly a rare occurrence.

“…I think the literature club’s budget is about to take a big hit. Is there anything you can do?”

“They’re cutting your budget? Why?”

“It’s that whole April incident. A lot of our members still haven’t come back to school, so our activity record looks awful. At the culture festival, we barely managed to put out enough work to count on one hand. Even Lord Albrecht said we’re probably going to get a massive cut…”

“I see… so that’s what’s going on.”

Indirectly, it was kind of my fault. Blaming all the mass suspensions and withdrawals in April solely on the cult is a bit of a stretch.

“Understood. For a friend, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Yay! Thank you, Iris!”

“Think nothing of it. You’re my friend, after all.”

Which meant I needed to find a way to steer the budget meeting in the literature club’s favor.

“Frieda, you won’t be attending the meeting yourself, right? It’ll be Lord Albrecht?”

“Yeah. He’s acting as interim club president right now.”

“Then there’s hope.”

After all, President Klaus is a man who loves his political connections.

And Albrecht’s father is none other than Field Marshal Ferdinand von Blankenfeldt, the Chief of the General Staff. A connection like that carries serious political weight—Klaus would probably approve without a second thought.

The Eldritch Goddess is clever indeed!

---

"That’s a no-go."

I’d known it was a bad idea, yet I’d still brought it up with Klaus in the student council room—only to be shot down instantly. Wh-why?!

"Well, don’t get me wrong—I’d love to stay on good terms with Marshal Ferdinand, too. The political clout of the Army still isn’t something to scoff at. But that’s exactly why I can’t give in to Albrecht’s demands."

"May I ask your reasoning?"

"Simple. Albrecht and his old man don’t get along."

Klaus’s answer to my question was blunt.

"At his age, most military brats would’ve already enrolled in an Army-affiliated school—officer academies and the like. But where’s he at instead? Arkham Academy, right? Rumor has it he and the Marshal had quite the row over it."

"I see…"

"His older brothers died in the last war. From what I hear, he’s sick and tired of the military—of war itself. So he dug his heels in: ‘I’ll never become a soldier!’ Personally, I don’t mind the attitude, but politically? Eh."

Klaus went on to explain that Albrecht’s brothers had all followed family tradition and joined the military, only to perish in the war. The only ones left were his sister and his much younger self.

"Military men are stubborn. Politically flexible negotiations aren’t their strong suit. And as a future Imperial Chancellor, I’d rather not cozy up to Albrecht and risk souring relations with the Marshal."

"You’re already set on becoming Chancellor, I see."

"What can I say? I love my old man’s line of work!"

Klaus laughed heartily before his expression turned serious again.

"Besides, the academy’s finances aren’t exactly flush after all those suspensions and dropouts. Playing favorites with just the Literary Club would piss off everyone else. You get that, don’t you, Iris?"

"Yes…"

Ugh. And here I’d promised Frieda with such confidence…

"Still, I figure you’d want to show your friend you at least tried. So here’s the deal: we’ll cut the budget, but we’ll frame it as temporary. Once your members return, we’ll restore the full amount."

"Thank you, Klaus."

"Don’t mention it. You’re the one who helped uncover the dorm basement mystery—consider this my thanks. A good politician keeps track of debts, and I intend to be a damn good one."

Listening to him, I couldn’t help but think he truly was destined for politics. If he ended up as anything else, I’d eat my hat.

"Klaus, Iris. Budget meeting’s about to start."

Felix’s voice cut in as he arrived.

"That time already? Let’s head out, then."

"Right."

I followed Klaus and Felix to the classroom where the budget meeting would be held.

"You remember how to take minutes?"

"Of course."

"Good. Write legibly—we’ll need a clean copy later."

"Leave it to me."

With that exchange, we entered the room. The club leaders (or their proxies) were already seated, and they rose in respect as Klaus and Felix walked in. The student council still commanded some authority, it seemed.

"Take your seats. We’ll now begin the budget meeting."

Each club would present their funding requests, complete with justifications. The academy likely designed these presentations to hone students’ persuasive skills—and as I listened, every plea struck me as thoroughly deserving.

"Our goal is a top-three finish in the upcoming tournament, and to that end, we request funds for an intensive training camp—"

Every club laid out compelling cases, making me want to approve them all.

"But given your club’s track record, isn’t ‘top three’ overly ambitious?"

Yet Felix dissected each appeal with icy precision. As the vice president and treasurer, he held the purse strings—and his scrutiny clearly stung.

Some clubs fought back with data; others conceded defeat.

Activity records, active membership, future potential—Felix weighed it all with detached calculation. What a capable guy, I mused. If it were me, I’d cave to sentiment and blow the whole budget in five minutes.

"Next, the Literary Club."

Ah. Our turn.

"Acting club president, Albrecht von Blankenfeld. We plan to submit works for the Imperial Youth Cultural Festival. However, as you’re aware, our club suffered significant attrition after April’s incident."

Albrecht laid out the situation frankly, without sugarcoating.

"Nevertheless, we intend to produce work worthy of Arkham Academy’s reputation. To that end, we request funding for reference materials, printing, and binding, as outlined below."

He then detailed the figures.

"Hmm. But with your current active membership, can you realistically deliver?"

Felix posed the question to Albrecht.

“Yes. I will create them and present them. Two works are already complete, and we’re on schedule to finish the rest before the Imperial Youth Cultural Festival.”

“I see.

At that, Felix turned his gaze toward Klaus.

“Then there’s no issue. The Literature Club has a solid track record. Budget allocations will be based on the number of active members, but if any members currently on leave return, we’ll consider a separate budget for that. That’s all.”

“Thank you very much.”

Ohh—what a relief. Now I’ve kept my promise to Frieda~!

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