Sakuramoria

In a normal situation, Nira would have happily watched the unfolding performance from her seat, but at the moment, the circus show staged by the teachers and students only evoked a feeling of hopeless disgust, so the girl was one of the first to find herself at the entrance. Casting a final glance at the stage, she caught a glimpse of her classmates huddled around the stooped figure of the old general. Fortis, consumed by his religious fanaticism, could be understood, as could Varya, who was flitting from camp to camp, but what was Waylis doing there? The cheerful young man, who was planning a date with Bella just the day before, suddenly decides to go to his death? Could it be that, apart from Leila, they all so desperately wanted to end their lives, which had only just begun? Nira tried to find Gideon in the bustling crowd, but the stream of frightened students pushed her out of the lifeless hall. No, Gideon couldn't have stayed with them; she herself had heard him dissuade Fortis. Even though he was brave and courageous, he wouldn't sacrifice his own ambitions for something so fleeting and relative, would he? Perhaps she should have said something to her friends, tried to dissuade them from certain death? Pausing at the foot of the stairs, the girl hesitantly looked back, but she couldn't bring herself to move. All her words and actions would be insincere, all her efforts would be futile. At least they would die for their own ideals and beliefs, and could she offer a sincere sacrifice that would be even remotely comparable to that? Clenching her fists tightly, Nira felt her nails painfully digging into her soft palms. She didn't remember how she got to her room or how much time had passed since the cursed election ceremony. It seemed as if the entire academy was now plunged into a stifling silence of anxious anticipation. The April incident had left her with room to maneuver, new and interesting roles, and, most importantly, hope for a peaceful future ahead. But the current situation was completely different. They were all becoming helpless hostages in the mad experiment of a king who had lost his mind. What were his goals? Perhaps to raise an elite royal guard from them, soldiers for special operations of particular importance. Perhaps they would eventually have their minds completely wiped clean, and for this, even many hours of lectures would not be needed; a couple of spells from the pointy-eared historian would be more than enough. Raising her eyes to the open window, which was black in the darkness of her consciousness, Nira thought with contemptuous pity about their new queen. Poor Futabu, who so generously saved their servile tongues from licking the royal boots. But perhaps it wouldn't have come to this if someone hadn't been so arrogant. The unfortunate bird, locked in a precious cage on a golden chain. Still better than being in a tin chicken coop, waiting for her turn in the meat grinder. One could argue that the king's favoritism would end when the young lady came of age, but what guarantee is there that the others will last that long? A year at the top of the pyramid is worth hundreds of years of existence among the gray masses. With a heavy sigh, Nira thought of her family for the first time since she started training. How wonderful it would be to be back in her home in Utah, in the comfort of her own room, waking up from this terrible nightmare, and with renewed inspiration, greeting a new bright day? To hear her mother's familiar lectures and her father's cheerful laughter again. But all of this was now hopelessly far away. Not only she, but also her parents were becoming hostages of a country for whose benefit they had been working all these years. And what a country it was. No one and nothing can help her now, except herself. Turning her tired gaze to the brand-new bedside table from the furniture set purchased the day before, Nira suddenly wanted it to be filled with something from her father's liquor collection instead of the prize toys. She herself had never tasted alcohol in her life, but seeing how favorably it affected her parents in difficult moments, she thought that it would be just the thing to calm her nerves. Taking a mirror and a cosmetic set from her bag, the girl mechanically put herself in order. With each minute, she felt her heartbeat subside, her breathing even out, and the real colors of the world return. In the end, nothing special happened! Let's imagine that there was no evil conspiracy, and that the queen of Sakuramoria had been in their class from the very beginning, and then she was elected president of the academy. Princess Claudia is also studying with them; the difference is not great! And then a couple of hotheads didn't like these ceremonies of respect, and they were punished to the full extent of Sakuramoria's law. After all, they live in an age of monarchies, so there is nothing surprising about it. And all this nonsense about freedom and equality is nothing more than a figment of the imagination of a rebellious royal granddaughter, who was exiled to the northern mines for it. A slight change in attitude towards the world around means a slight change in attitude towards achieving success. There is no need to invent all sorts of favors in order to get the votes of other students. By all rights, she had these elections in the bag, which means she has already proven that she is far superior to everyone else under the Levi regime. All that remains is to achieve the same success under the regime of her grandfather. For this, it is not even necessary to jump higher than before: it is enough to stay one step above the one that the bloody sword of his elderly henchman will cut off. To remain on the good side of Her Majesty Futaba and not be dragged down by her class: this is a simple recipe for success under the new regime, and she is quite capable of carrying it out.