[Blue Archive] I am the Trinity Checkpoint Chief – Chapter 42

Trinity General Academy Border Checkpoint Log

FROM: Tea Party Communications Office

RELATED TO: Host

TO: Border Checkpoint Communications Office

Information: Host Emergency Order No. 2318

Priority: Refer to Allied Academy Law

Restriction: Level 2

Transmission Log:

Host Emergency Order: Temporary border control required STOP

Reference: Trinity General Academy Allied Academy Law, Border Checkpoint Regulation Article 1, Clause 51 STOP

Border control to commence at midnight today; artillery fire authorized if enforced STOP

This is not a training scenario STOP

Transmitter: Kawazaki Ritsuko, Officer on Duty

“…What the hell is this supposed to mean?”

“No kidding. I’m well-versed in academy law, and Article 1, Clause 51 states that ‘the border checkpoint is obligated to prioritize the execution of orders under the Host’s emergency authority.’ But border control is traditionally declared after a meeting, right?”

“Didn’t know we had a law expert from Pater. That’s unexpected. I know a bit about this myself—heard it from Itsuka-senpai. At the very least, a department head-level meeting, or ideally a club leader-level one, should take precedence. I have no idea what Nagisa-sama is thinking. Any suspicious movements from the Tea Party?”

“I’m set to be Pater’s first jurist, you know. Anyway, there’s been nothing unusual reported from there or the front lines.”

“Then why the hell are they waking us up in the middle of the night to sound the alarm and cause a ruckus?”

That wasn’t directed at Nagisa-sama. It was aimed at those administrative brats who didn’t voice any objections.

Goddamn it. It’s 1 a.m., for crying out loud. The sun’s nowhere near rising—it’s the damn moonlit hour. The sirens are blaring, and I’m the one who has to deal with the complaints of 430 people. By now, the signal’s probably reached the frontline outposts, and everyone’s pissed off.

Ritsuko-chan woke me up saying, “Senpai, we’re screwed,” and I wondered what was going on. Then this bombshell hit.

A Host’s order and a “Host Emergency Order” have distinctly different legal standings. Grammatically, the latter is treated as a seven-character proper noun. Legally, it means, “You follow this even if your head’s getting bashed in real-time.”

In other words, it’s an order of the highest priority. A club leader could strongly object and exercise their veto right, but that gets nullified by a reissued order from the Host, and the objector risks their own political neck in the process.

Put simply, it means you need the resolve to defy it even if it costs you your head.

I don’t want my head bashed in, but the issue is legitimacy.

Let me say it again: it’s 1:17 a.m. It’s baffling enough that Nagisa-sama is awake at this hour, but issuing an order like this is beyond comprehension. As my Pater junior said, there’s nothing unusual at the front lines or in the city, so why issue such an order?

I can guess two calculations at play here. First, it’s obvious I’d question the legitimacy of this order. Second, they’re trying to minimize the chance I’d exercise my veto by making it clear they don’t think I’d take such a political gamble over this.

Fortunately for Nagisa-sama, I’m not the type to take such risks, as she seems to think. I’m more emotional than rational, but I’ve eaten enough dirt to know better. I can at least exercise some judgment.

That said, I just want to ask her one thing:

What the hell is going on to cause this mess?

Clunk.

I dialed the emergency phone.

“Tea Party office—”

“Connect me to the Host.”

“Understood.”

My tone was a bit harsh. I was tired, and honestly, a little pissed off. It was quite rude, but the operator, used to situations like this, deftly switched the line.

Soon, a familiar girl’s voice came through.

“This is Kirifuji Nagisa of the Tea Party.”

“Checkpoint Captain here. I’ll cut to the chase. What’s going on?”

“…There’s something. I hope you’ll understand, Hikari-san.”

“Forget understanding—I don’t even see a justification here, Nagisa-sama. This puts us in a tough spot.”

Nagisa-sama seemed to know what I meant.

There’s no justification. The reference in the telegram is just a bare minimum attempt to secure legal legitimacy. Sure, the academy law system carries some weight, but even so, justification is always lacking. An order without justification is grounds for defiance.

From that perspective, as a club leader with some degree of authority, Nagisa-sama has the responsibility—or even the obligation—to explain to me what’s happening. This is a kind of rule within the massive political system of the Tea Party.

The Host of Trinity wields immense power, but that power comes with equally immense responsibility.

“…Would it help if I said it’s related to the Supplementary Lessons Department?”

“Huh, that club only has four members. Closing the border—not even a curfew—for a single club? That’s absurd.”

“Please, just trust me this once, Hikari-san. I need you right now.”

Weren’t you the one suspecting me of plotting a coup?

Nagisa-sama’s voice was trembling. Had she been crying all night, or was she worried about something?

Regardless, it’s hard to just accept her heartfelt request at face value. Even if I don’t outright refuse the emergency order, this is serious enough to warrant an internal meeting at the checkpoint before deciding.

Managing the massive physical entity of the border alone is, frankly, a huge burden. I pride myself on having the trust of my team, but this is a whole different issue, isn’t it?

Our Filius faction leader and Host may have her reasons, but I can’t help it. I spoke again.

“I’m sorry, Nagisa-sama. We’ll start the border control, but whether we continue it will depend on an internal meeting.”

“That’s no different from refusing, isn’t it? Is it okay if I take it that way, Hikari-san?”

“…This is a matter of our sovereignty.”

“…” The Host hung up without a response.

This was a kind of diplomatic rhetoric. By conditionally accepting Nagisa-sama’s absurd emergency order, I’m essentially saying, “Don’t interfere with me anymore.” In a way, it’s also a threatening statement.

I feel a bit guilty. Honestly, I played a bit of a calculated move here. Since Nagisa-sama hasn’t let go of her ridiculous suspicions about me, I used that to my advantage with a veiled threat. She might’ve taken it as, “Keep pushing me, and I might flip and topple the regime.”

I might need to apologize when I see her next.

I headed to the checkpoint. The eight students were busy yawning.

The Supplementary Lessons Department, huh. I don’t know what’s going on, but given that border measures have been taken, it’s clear those kids are trying to cross the border. Half the who-what-when-where-why-how is missing, though.

I don’t really want to make the kids work hard for no reason, but since I agreed to follow through, we need to act. I’ve already sent word to the frontline outposts to issue an alert. Responses should come in soon.

Those kids are probably heading toward the checkpoint headquarters. The bridges and roads to Gehenna and Abydos are locked down tight with outposts on top. Breaking through there would take some serious effort.

Hmm.

Now that I think about it, I’m uneasy. If even one of those points gets breached, my head’s on the chopping block.

Let’s think this through. I’m not some fool who fails by letting their guard down, like someone said. Instead of focusing all our forces on the checkpoint headquarters as the sole entry point, wouldn’t it be better to distribute them across the closed old checkpoints? A kind of decentralized deployment.

There were 25 checkpoints in total, so we could station one cannon at each, with the remaining dozen or so spread out in between for support fire within a generous range. For personnel, about ten per outpost should do, with a few digging trenches for explosives, and in case of unexpected support…

“Senpai, what are you doing?”

“…Oh.”

Why was I thinking this through alone? We’ve got our eight-member committee, the smartest kids in the checkpoint, right here.

I turned from the strategy map to look at my juniors. Unlike when they were yawning earlier, their eyes were bright and alert. Seeing the cups around, it seems they’d passed around some cocoa while I was lost in thought.

Reliable kids, aren’t they? Come to think of it, I need to discuss the border closure with them too. So much to talk about.

“Alright, listen up. I know it sucks getting woken up at dawn, but you’ve probably heard about the telegram, so bear with me.”

“Speaking of that, you used your veto senpai? Handled it better than I expected.”

“I’ve got some brains, Sayuri-san. Anyway, everyone, let’s vote. Anyone against the Host’s emergency order?”

No one.

It’s not entirely true, but I asked a biased question for a reason. I think I need to talk to Hanako.

Lately, my relationship with Hanako has been almost nonexistent. I suspect she still thinks I’m plotting a coup. I managed to smooth things over with Nagisa-sama through a few conversations, but I haven’t had any contact with Hanako, so it’s understandable.

Today might be my chance. If the Supplementary Lessons Department is trying to cross the border, I’ll likely run into Hanako at least once while dealing with them. I need to figure out what she thinks of me now and, of course, clear up any misunderstandings.

If she cut ties just because she suspected me, Hanako might be even more paranoid than Nagisa-sama.

I’ll think about that later. For now, let’s focus on the checkpoint.

There’s a lot to do.

“The vote’s settled, so it’s meeting time. I think the Supplementary Lessons Department is trying to cross the border, so we need to come up with a plan.”

“The Supplementary Lessons Department? You mean the one with that crazy bomb nut? She’s coming for us?”

“Unfortunately, yeah. But we outnumber them a hundred to one, so it’s not that bad, right, Matsushiro-chan?”

“I get that, but if this isn’t a typical border closure and we’re specifically stopping the Supplementary Lessons Department, how do we do it? The border’s too wide, and our forces are limited. Can we pull this off?”

A very logical point from Pater’s elite, Matsushiro-chan.

But the checkpoint captain has a plan. I just came up with it, and it might cause some collateral damage, but…

“…I’ve got an idea.”

Sensing the glint in my eyes, Matsushiro-chan swallowed hard.