I Stopped Simping and the Heroines Lost Their Minds

By late morning, the Founders’ Fair had filled the academy courtyard with visiting families, guild representatives, students, and enough wealthy nobles to make Felix regret every price he had been forced to remove.

Squad 7’s dungeon-survival pavilion stood near the edge of the courtyard. Watching the demonstrations was free. Participating required one of the wooden tokens Felix sold from a locked box beside the entrance.

He had also installed a separate rope for visitors willing to pay for a shorter line.

Sylvia discovered it before the main gates had fully opened.

She arrived carrying a stack of Obsidian Hand pamphlets, stopped in front of the second queue, and looked from the rope to Felix.

"I am removing this."

Felix placed one hand protectively on the post. He attempted to explain that wealthy visitors would happily pay to avoid waiting, which made the premium line both profitable and considerate.

Sylvia pulled the rope free while he was still presenting the argument.

"The academy advertised a free fair. The Obsidian Hand is not charging nobles for the privilege of standing closer to the front."

Felix watched the rope coil around her arm with visible pain. After several seconds, he abandoned the premium queue and negotiated for a share of any guild merchandise sold through the pavilion.

Sylvia placed the pamphlets beside his lockbox. "Two percent, provided I do not receive a single complaint involving the words fraud, extortion, or priority access."

Felix opened a new page in his ledger. It was not the victory he had planned, but it was a percentage.

Beside them, Emily’s controlled-impact station was already becoming the most popular attraction. A heavy, padded replica of a monster’s armor plate was mounted securely on a wooden frame. Dozens of confident visitors stepped up, handed Felix a token, and swung wildly at the padding, usually bouncing away while pretending their knuckles did not hurt.

When the crowd began to thin, Emily stepped up to demonstrate. She didn’t wind up or throw her entire body weight into the strike. She planted her feet, shifted her hips, and delivered one compact punch that cracked only the marked center of the replica plate.

The marked center cracked while the rest of the plate remained intact. The crowd answered with its loudest applause of the morning.

Arthur leaned against the wooden frame of his own station. "You do realize that is the exact behavior everyone has been begging you to learn since the start of the term?"

Emily grinned, wrapping her knuckles in fresh tape. "It’s much more fun when people pay to watch me do it."

Chloe occupied the opposite side of the pavilion with bandages, splints, and several wooden practice limbs.

A silk-clad father watched her secure a splint and asked why anyone needed ordinary bandages when healing magic could simply close the injury.

Chloe finished tying the cloth before answering. A healer, she explained, might be on the other side of a dungeon when someone was cut open. Pressure stopped the bleeding. A splint prevented a broken limb from becoming worse. Healing magic mattered only if the injured person survived long enough to receive it.

The father looked toward his son, who had been treating the first-aid station as the least interesting part of the pavilion.

A moment later, he purchased three tokens and pushed the boy toward Chloe’s practice table.

Felix recorded the sale without commenting on how fear had succeeded where advertising had failed.

Arthur’s own archery challenge was set up along the back wall of the pavilion. For one token, visitors could fire blunt, harmless mana markers at a series of moving wooden targets.

Arthur was watching a merchant’s son miss his third shot when Elara arrived from the main archery range.

She examined the firing line, looked at the moving targets, and quietly shifted the control lever. Every target rolled several yards farther away.

Felix leaned out from behind his lockbox. "I shortened that distance for participation."

Arthur lowered the practice bow in his hand. "She is damaging our business."

Elara regarded both of them with the same disappointment. "You were charging people to succeed at fraudulent archery."

Arthur offered her the bow. "Then repair our reputation."

The argument drew a crowd before Elara reached the firing line. She raised the bow in one smooth motion and released as the target crossed the center of the range. The mana marker struck the painted circle cleanly.

Her shot looked so easy that several visitors immediately purchased tokens.

Arthur picked up Whisperwind and switched the target mechanism to its least predictable setting. The wooden figure jerked left, slowed, and dropped just as he began drawing.

He shifted with it and released before it could change direction again.

The marker struck the center hard enough to spin the target on its rail.

Elara’s shot earned respectful applause. Arthur’s earned cheers.

Felix looked at the growing participation line and quietly decided that honest archery might also be profitable.

Leon and Alicia’s exhibition in the center ring drew the largest crowd of the fair. Every clean exchange produced another wave of cheers that carried across the courtyard.

Squad 7 could not compete with that spectacle, but Felix’s token box was filling steadily. By early afternoon, he had replaced the small coin pouch with a larger one and stationed Chloe close enough to stop anyone from disappearing with it.

Arthur watched Leon receive another round of applause while Felix counted their earnings.

There were apparently several ways to win a festival.

As the afternoon wore on, the fair settled into a steady, profitable rhythm.

Matron Beatrice stopped at Chloe’s station during the afternoon. She opened the field kit, checked the position of the clotting draught and clean cloths, then closed it again with a single approving nod.

Chloe tried to hide her satisfaction by reorganizing a pile of bandages that was already perfectly straight.

"Careful, Chloe," Arthur joked from the archery line. "You’re starting to get better performance reviews than I am."

Beatrice looked at him coolly. "She follows instructions, Vance."

Brunhilda appeared near the pavilion an hour later while Brokk spoke with several guild masters near the center ring.

She stopped beside Arthur’s archery station and held out her hand for his wrist. Anyone watching would have seen a smith checking the temporary support worn by a customer.

"The final bracer will be ready after the fair," she said while pressing one thumb beneath the band.

Her fingers tightened briefly around his wrist.

"Do not disappear."

Arthur met her bright green eyes. The warning had very little to do with collecting equipment.

"I’ll be there."

Brunhilda released him and returned to Brokk before the next visitor reached the firing line.

Elena passed the pavilion shortly afterward with a group of senior faculty inspectors.

She paused beside Arthur’s firing line and examined the barriers, token station, and distance between the targets and the crowd.

"Is your station operating safely, Cadet Vance?"

"Felix has only attempted one financial crime, Professor. Sylvia prevented it."

Elena’s expression remained formal, though her attention lingered briefly on the incorrectly fastened button near the top of Arthur’s coat.

"I was asking about the weapons."

"Those are also under control."

She approved the station and moved on with the inspectors.

Arthur watched her leave for half a second too long before returning to the next visitor.

By late afternoon, much of the crowd had begun moving toward the dining pavilions.

Behind Squad 7’s booth, several workers adjusted the decorative crystal display. The marked crate had passed inspection that morning, and its largest piece now stood inside a wooden support frame.

One of the workers pulled a rope while another guided the base. The crystal shifted farther than expected.

His grip slipped.

The display struck the courtyard stones and split down the middle.

Dark grit burst from the hollow center.

The nearest worker inhaled before he could turn away. His hands flew to his throat as a wet cough forced him backward into the support frame.

Arthur recognized the powder.

"Get away from the display!"

His warning vanished beneath the noise of the fair, but Chloe heard the worker coughing. She looked up from the bandage wrapped around a child’s practice arm and saw the dark cloud spreading behind the pavilion.

The worker’s knees buckled.

Chloe abandoned the demonstration table, caught a clean cloth from the open field kit, and covered her mouth before running toward him.

He collapsed before she reached the display.

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