Chapter 240: National University League (7)
Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinclair stopped eating and frowned.
"Ugh, those guests from outside were Varangians? I was hoping it was the Themiscyras."
"Obviously, if there's a large group of guests besides us at this time of year, they're either Varangians or Themiscyra."
"Wow. The inn seems so cramped now that the Varangians are here. Is it because they're all so big? The average height must be about 195 cm."
"Ugh, I'm suffocating. I smell sweat. I feel like it has become ten times narrower."
"They must have been training somewhere, the way they're sweating."
As expected, the people who entered the inn were students from the Varangian Academy.
"Yikes. Thank goodness we found a place to stay."
"I was already worried about being homeless before the tournament even started."
"The kids from Colosseo Academy are nice. Thanks, guys!"
"Hahaha- I'm more worried about my stomach, so let's eat!"
"Oooh, all-you-can-eat, great, ready for battle!"
The men of the Varangian made a beeline for the rice as soon as they entered their quarters.
The students of the Colosseo took up the eastern half of the spacious banquet hall, while the Varangians occupied the remaining western half.
"Now, let's scoop up the food."
At the head of the line of Varangian students was a man.
Juragio Bakiraga.
His massive frame and the scars all over his body made him look like a giant beast.
He stretched his pincers towards the meat on the large platter in front of him.
As he helped himself to the food, the students of the Colosseo Academy stared, secretly wondering how much meat he would devour.
... but.
"This should fill me up."
With a single movement of his pincers, Bakiraga picked up a few pieces of meat and placed them on a small plate.
The Colosseo students gave him a surprised look.
They were surprised that Bakiraga, who looked like he could eat an entire cow by himself, only ate the average portion of a girl's meal.
The Varangian students, however, had a different reaction.
"Oh, Mr. President, you're eating a lot today."
"You're eating 1.5 times more than usual."
"That's not good for your stomach."
"Well, maybe he's going to work off some of that sweat with a personal training session later."
What is this response? Does this mean that Bakiraga usually eats a little more here?
The looks on the faces of the students in the Colosseo became even more puzzled.
...Boom!
Bakiraga suddenly placed the meat on the small plate down on the buffet table.
Then he said.
"I'll eat well then."
He lifted all the remaining meat from the huge buffet plate.
With what seemed like dozens of kilograms of meat at his disposal, Bakiraga devoured them all in the blink of an eye.
"...."
A strange silence fell over the students of the Colosseo.
They were speechless with the fact that Bakiraga could consume what seemed like a month's worth of food in a matter of minutes.
With that, the Varangian students began to raid the buffet in earnest.
"Food is all about turnover, so keep the meat coming!"
"The first five minutes of the meal is the most crucial time to eat as much as possible, otherwise you can't eat much!"
"We are quantity over quality!"
"Meat after marching is the elixir of immortality!"
As the muscular hulks come and go, the food melts like ice cubes thrown in the sun.
Meanwhile.
"...."
Vikir watches Bakiraga eating at the table across from him.
Vikir's attention was drawn to the choker stuffed around his neck.
"Did you say your grandparents were from the Red and Black Mountains?
The barbarian aura emanating from Bakiraga's body was indeed vaguely familiar.
'Perhaps there is some connection.'
Vikir fiddled with the choker around his neck.
Just then.
"Hey, what are we supposed to eat when you guys are done?"
"Is this dirty bastard crazy?"
The sound of arguing came from the center of the room.
Two boys were arguing in the center of the room.
A student from the Colosseo's cold class and another student from Varangian were arguing over the line at the buffet.
"Why do you cut in and take the food! And sweep it all away!"
"It's because I'm sick to my stomach at the sight of you carrying your food with tongs, and you're not going to eat it all anyway."
"That doesn't mean you can ignore the line!"
"There's no line at the buffet!"
When you're in a long line at a buffet, and the person in front of you is munching away, and you want to eat something other than the food in front of you, should you push past him or her to get ahead?
This is a long-standing debate that goes back to ancient times.
Eventually, the two schoolboys from Colosseo and Varangian began to confront each other in a harsh manner.
"Oh, you meatball, your argument is nonsensical. Is your brain all muscle?"
"I was going to let it slide because I'm afraid I'll lose muscle if I get angry, but I guess I'll just have to chew on more anchovies."
Their accusations weren't directed at the other person individually, but at each others' group respectively, so naturally, their friends joined in.
"This is why we shouldn't have let those muscle fools in. We were being kind by turning a single occupancy room into a double occupancy room, and now they are not even thanking us for it!"
"What do you care? We paid our tuition and came here too. The inn we booked had a problem and the owner sent us here, so why should we care about you? We're customers too!"
"If we didn't make concessions, you guys would have to sleep outside!"
"Haha, you made concessions, your professors and our professors know each other and we agreed not to fight."
"We voted on whether or not to let you in! 93% voted in favor, and you dare betray that favor!
"Then you must be the 7% who voted against it, haha- we're mercenaries in the first place, so we're used to sleeping outside! Vote again if you want, we can leave!"
At this point, a burly schoolboy from the Varangian side stepped forward.
Bolly Bolason. He was from a mercenary guild in the north and was currently a first-year student at the Varangian Academy.
At 217 centimeters tall and 150 kilograms, he was not far behind Bakiraga.
As Bolason stepped forward, the boys from Colloseo Academy flinched and took a half step back.
"What's all the excitement about? Are these anchovies flapping around too much?"
Bolason purposely holds his head high and looks around, pretending to see no one.
The boys from the Colosseo are all looking at him with annoyance because of the huge height difference.
But there's one who's not too far out of his league.
"Can't we have a quieter meal?"
It was Sancho Barataria, stepping to the front of his cowering friends.
With the big Sancho stepping up to the front, Bolarson couldn't help but feel a little smug.
But that didn't end the argument.
"...Oho. Who is this?"
Bolason recognized Sancho's face.
"Isn't this the coward who ran away after Varangian's entrance exam? How's Colosseo Academy? Is it as cozy as a cradle? Are the people kind enough to be nice to a runaway coward?"
Apparently, he was unhappy that Sancho had gone to the Colosseo Academy even though he had ranked first in the Varangian's entrance exam.
What's more, Sancho had ranked first in Varangian Academy but only ranked fifth in the Colosseo Academy, and he had taken the risk of going to Colosseo Academy.
The fact that a talented freshman chose Colosseo Academy over Varangian made it seem like there was a clear distinction between the two schools.
The Varangians were understandably unhappy.
"Hmm, I guess you were in good shape when you took the Varangian entrance exam and you weren't in good shape when you took the Colosseo entrance exam?"
Sancho nonchalantly replied to Bolason's prodding.
"No, it was the other way around."
"...what?"
"I was in the best shape when I took the Colosseo entrance exam, and I was in the worst shape when I took the Varangian entrance exam, and I still got those scores."
At that, the fists of several Varangian hooligans, including Bolason, began to shake.
"Where did this bastard... sell his northern pride?"
"Are you crazy, Sancho, do you think you won't come back to the North after you graduate?"
"If you come from a mercenary family, have the pride of a mercenary family, at least you shouldn't be ashamed of it!"
"You're such a dumbass after eating something warm and sleeping in the Imperial Capital, haha!"
But Sancho had friends who wouldn't stand by and let him be criticized alone.
"Is there a barn around here where you can just hear the pigs squealing?"
"Tu, Tudor, cut the personal attacks..."
"Personal attacks, my foot. He's right, the inn has been smelling like a barn since they came in."
"It's fine to be proud of your group, but don't demean other groups."
Tudor, Piggy, Bianca, and Sinclair were now standing in front of Sancho.
"Huh, look at these anchovies, are their heads well?"
Bolason opened his mouth in disbelief.
"Anchovies? Head? Is that what you are calling us?"
"Us?"
"Us?"
An eerie, low voice sounded from the side.
Across the table from Bolason, who flinched and backed away, stood the three brothers, Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro.
With the National University League just around the corner, rumors of the three mad dogs of Baskerville were well known to the Varangian's students.
This made even the most confident Bolason nervous.
Among the Varangian first-year students, there were not many who could meet the gaze of Highbro, Midbro, and Lowbro with a straight face.
"Are those the tridents of the Baskervilles?"
"They're assholes, just like I heard. Look at that murderous look in their eyes."
"They're the ones who got into a fight with that Varangian third year student at the last festival?"
"Yeah. He was a senior in our sports team, and he got beaten up ... and was pretty beat up."
"I heard on the train that they were giggling and laughing with a dagger in the back of one of the guys' hands?"
Rumors of the personality and skills of the 'Trident of Baskerville' were already widespread among all schools. So most people see them as the top powers of Colosseo.
(Grenouille, who is secretly standing next to Sinclair, may not agree with what they say)
Meanwhile, Bolason was annoyed that he had been pushed back from his confrontation.
He blurted out, not wanting to admit he was momentarily overwhelmed.
"I am Bolly Bolason, a first-year Varangian student! I challenge Colosseo's strongest first-year to a showdown! Let's fight like warriors!"
Bolason scanned the room and glowered at Tudor, Bianca, Sancho, Sinclair and the Baskervilles' triplets, his fighting spirit blazing.
But.
"...."
"...."
"...."
"...."
"...."
"...."
"...."
No one answered him.
The brave aspiring knight Tudor, the always noble Bianca, the smart genius Sinclair, and even the foul-tempered three brothers of the Baskerville family.
"...?"
Then the Varangian students, including Bolason, turned their heads.
Their eyes first followed those of the Colosseo students, who were all looking at the same spot.
And there it was.
"...."
There was a boy eating in silence, not paying any attention to the commotion.
It was Vikir.
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