The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL]

Unfortunately, King Garrick learned the truth the hard way.

Who would have thought that the itty bitty thing called a mango would be too weak?

He barely even touched it.

It was a disaster, really. And if the orc delegation had not deliberately chosen to stay at the very back due to their towering heights, then everyone in the kitchen would have witnessed the tragic fate of that poor, sweet fruit.

King Garrick stared down at the remains on his chopping board. Well, it could have been worse. The entire island counter could have been destroyed, but still...

What had once been a mango now resembled a flattened confession of guilt.

Absolutely nothing like Luca’s thin, elegant slices.

Beside him, his aide froze mid-breath. His eyes flicked from the king’s knife to the mango. Then to the board. Then back to the knife.

Silence stretched.

Then, very carefully, the aide spoke.

”Your Majesty was merciful,” he said solemnly. ”A lesser display of control would have annihilated it completely.”

The orc king slowly turned his head.

”I was not,” Garrick growled, ”attempting to annihilate it.”

He wanted to slice it.

Slice it beautifully.

With dignity.

With grace.

With the same thin, neat strips Luca had just demonstrated like it was nothing.

His grip tightened.

Garrick inhaled deeply and reached for another mango.

Again.

This time, he adjusted his angle. Slowed his movement. Focused.

The blade came down.

The mango surrendered instantly.

Too instantly.

It collapsed. Smeared. Folded in on itself like it had given up on existence the moment it sensed danger.

The aide jolted back on instinct, then immediately straightened and cleared his throat.

”Your Majesty’s power remains flawless,” he said quickly. ”The mango simply lacked the will to endure.”

Garrick’s eye twitched.

”You,” the king said, voice dangerously calm.

But he tried again.

This time, he was careful. Truly careful. He moderated his strength to a level he had not used since childhood. He lowered the blade with what he believed to be restraint.

The knife went through the mango.

And the chopping board.

There was a sound. A very solid sound.

The table shuddered.

”...”

”...”

The aide stared at the knife now embedded firmly into the reinforced board. Then at the mango, which had been cut cleanly in half along with a respectable portion of the surface beneath it.

After a long pause, he spoke.

”Shall I fetch a thinner knife,” the aide asked carefully, ”or perhaps a shielded mango?”

Garrick’s face flushed a deep, violent green.

He straightened, clearly on the verge of testing the knife on his subordinate, when a calm, almost amused voice drifted in from the side.

”Your Majesty,” the woman said gently, ”forgive me for interrupting, but may I suggest a little trick?”

Garrick turned sharply toward the sound.

Standing there was Marquise Julienne, composed and smiling as if she had not just witnessed an orc king defeat a table.

”A trick?” he repeated.

”Yes, Your Majesty. As you can see, it appears to be a recurring problem for individuals of great strength.”

Marquise Julienne gestured casually around them.

Only then did King Garrick finally notice.

He wasn’t alone.

Several other towering figures stood frozen in place, staring down at their respective cutting boards with expressions that mirrored his own horror. Mangoes lay before them in various states of surrender. Crushed. Flattened. Emotionally devastated.

King Garrick felt an unexpected wave of relief, especially as he could hear a certain Duke complaining to his wife about willful mangoes.

He coughed into his fist.

”Marquise Mylor,” he said gravely, ”what is this trick you speak of?”

”A change of mindset,” she replied with a gentle smile.

The orc king’s face scrunched up immediately. That sounded suspiciously like nonsense.

But before he could finish forming the thought, the marquise continued calmly.

”Think of the knife as a special weapon that requires a particular way of handling,” she said. ”Surely the grip for a longsword would not be the same as the grip for a saber, no?”

”!”

The sound came not only from King Garrick.

Around them, several adults stiffened as if struck by sudden enlightenment. Heads slowly turned. Eyes widened. Hands tightened around those suddenly weaponized knives.

King Garrick looked down at the blade in his hand.

It was scaled properly for his size. Luca Kyros had even accounted for that. The counter height had been adjusted with risers. The tools were appropriate. Even the ceiling seemed to have been designed with their heights in mind.

They were clearly well accommodated.

And yet they (he) still failed.

His jaw tightened.

But thinking of it as a weapon did something to him.

Weapons were practically secondary body parts to their kind.

Who could ever handle physical weapons better than orcs?

King Garrick straightened, resolve igniting in his chest.

He was just about to try again when the marquise raised a finger.

”Your Majesty,” she said smoothly, ”aside from changing your mindset regarding handling and technique, you may also wish to reconsider how you view the mango itself.”

”Hmm. Speak.”

”There are several approaches,” she continued. ”One is to imagine that you are carving the image of your child.”

”!!!”

Gasps rippled through the nearby adults.

King Garrick blinked.

Beside him, his aide made a strangled noise and looked genuinely alarmed.

A faint shimmer passed through the air as a spiritual barrier discreetly rose around the children’s section.

”Another method,” the marquise added pleasantly, ”is to imagine that you are getting under the skin of a traitor.”

”!!!!!!”

”My lady,” the aide asked weakly, ”would that truly work?”

”I believe it would.”

She smiled and gestured forward.

King Garrick looked down.

At some point during the explanation, his hands had moved.

The mango lay neatly cut into three clean pieces.

Perfect.

The room fell silent.

King Garrick stared.

Then he threw his head back.

”Ha!”

He lifted the mango high, proudly displaying the result like a trophy.

”Marquise Mylor,” he said grandly, chest puffed out, ”you shall receive gifts for your timely assistance.”

He looked immensely pleased with himself. Proud in a way that was almost boyish.

That pride doubled when Luca Kyros finally reached their station during his inspection rounds. The golden-eyed cadet paused, looked down at the cutting board, then smiled brightly.

”That looks great, Your Majesty!” Luca said, clapping his hands once. ”You did it perfectly!”

The orc king practically glowed.

”You see?” Garrick declared. ”It wasn’t difficult at all. I can do it perfectly now.”

He straightened, clearly intending to demonstrate again.

Then he froze.

Slowly, his gaze dropped next to the cutting board where all his ingredients should be.

Empty. No yellow fruits in sight.

His eyes widened.

”...Huh?”

He looked left.

Then right.

Then down again, as if another mango might magically appear if he stared hard enough.

That had been his last one.

The realization hit him like a delayed blow.

His head snapped toward the nearby orcs.

Several subordinates stiffened.

One aide in particular reacted instantly.

With lightning speed, the aide pulled his mango closer and shielded it with both arms, body angled protectively as if guarding a priceless treasure.

”My mango,” the aide said firmly.

King Garrick stared.

The aide stared back.

A silent understanding passed between them.

The aide had seen what happened to the others.

All of the King’s previous mangoes had been smushed and only one had been salvaged, a little too late.

In essence, there wouldn’t be enough ingredients for the king. No wonder they were warned about serving sizes.

The aide’s shoulders slumped just slightly, despair already creeping in as he figured he needed to value his life.

But then salvation arrived.

”Your Majesty,” a relaxed voice said warmly, ”don’t worry.”

Both of them turned.

Luca stood there with a gentle smile.

”We prepared some contingencies in case something like this happened, since it’s understandable when learning a new skill,” he continued cheerfully. ”I’m also collecting the mangoes everyone practiced on. Even if they’re a little smushed, we can still use them for other things.”

”Huh?” Garrick said, caught off guard.

”Yes!” Luca said, visibly excited. ”I’ll make mango shakes while everyone keeps working hard. So please continue to do your best!”

He moved efficiently, gathering the experimental mangoes from the surrounding stations while handing out fresh ones to those who needed replacements.

The tension and clear fear of scarcity evaporated instantly.

The aide nearly sagged with relief, eyeing his mangoes tearfully.

King Garrick straightened again, pride fully restored.

”Of course,” he said confidently. ”You may inspect my work again later.”

”Then I’ll come back in a bit, Your Majesty!” Luca replied brightly before moving on.

The aide watched him leave with reverence.

Then he turned toward his king, eyes shining.

”Your Majesty,” he said solemnly, ”the great saint praised your work.”

”Mn,” Garrick replied calmly. ”I know.”

He picked up the new mango.

This time, he felt steady.

Confidence radiating from his body.

He just needed to remove the skin.

And slice it thinly.

How hard could that be?