WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: HidingTurtle
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ How the Child of Prophecy Survives ◈
Chapter 11: Cursed Tongue
──────
“...”
“What is it?”
After a hard day of training, Ernst had spent his free time practicing shooting with Robert, who had insisted on joining him despite his badly swollen hands. Now back at the dormitory, Ernst pulled an envelope from the gap in the door and examined it closely. His hands still stinging, Robert held them limply in front of his chest as he asked.
“...A letter from Rabid.”
Ernst murmured the answer as he studied the envelope.
It was sealed with wax. A closer look at the red wax revealed a lion roaring toward the left and the name Wilfried Rabid. Apparently, a duke’s son used a personal seal even without an official position.
Ernst carefully inspected the door. Without even thinking about it, he was checking for signs of an intruder.
He unlocked the door for Robert, whose hands were too swollen, and peered through the gap. Only after confirming that everything he had secretly set up remained untouched did he go inside.
At first, Robert had hated Ernst’s obsessive caution. Now, however, he too had become quite obsessive about the markers that warned them of an enemy’s intrusion, so he did not complain.
“What could our young lord from the ducal house possibly want to say, sending a letter with his own seal to such humble lodgings?”
With exaggerated curiosity in his voice, Robert nudged Ernst’s arm. He had assumed that Wilfried, the Duke of Rabid’s fourth son, would have no interest at all in a cadet of common birth like himself.
Surely it took someone like Ernst Krieger to receive a personal letter from a duke’s son. Ernst’s father was a soldier who had received the Noble Heart Medal while still alive, and Ernst himself had led a major incident right after entering the academy, crushed the Cadet Corps, and still received three merit points.
Ernst carefully opened the envelope with a paper knife. Tearing an envelope apart and throwing it away was extremely rude, not only in noble society but also in business dealings among commoners.
“Ugh...”
Robert could not help recoiling at the sight of the paper alone. It was wonderfully soft and smooth, its pristine surface free of even the slightest discoloration.
“What?”
“That’s the finest paper you can buy. Ernst, this stuff is incredibly expensive. Prices start at 150 dek. I can’t even guess how much more the paper a duke’s son uses would cost.”
Robert answered with obvious dismay.
Paper of this quality was a luxury item. The finest paper was harder to make, harder to care for, and more expensive than the finest parchment. A hundred and fifty dek was more than a commoner’s living expenses for an entire month.
“He must be giving you a lot of thought. Well, maybe he’s just never used low-quality paper or parchment in his life, being a duke’s son.”
Robert spoke quite cautiously. Listening to him, Ernst unfolded the letter and read it.
“To Ernst Krieger and Robert Zimmermann.”
“...Me?”
“Yes. Your name’s right here.”
“...It really is.”
Rather than hold the paper with his swollen hands, Robert read over Ernst’s shoulder.
“This is pretty hard to read.”
Ernst frowned at the overly elaborate cursive. Wilfried’s writing looked almost like a work of art in itself.
After laboring over the letter as though decoding a secret message, Ernst and Robert both pulled a face. Most of what they had worked so hard to read was useless greetings.
The truly nasty part was how the most important information appeared casually at the very end, as though it hardly mattered.
“Ernst, do you know what nobles do at social gatherings?”
“No.”
“Wow, what a relief. So I’m not the only one who doesn’t know.”
Robert nodded with a gentle smile, looking genuinely relieved.
“So what do we do now?”
He asked Ernst, but Ernst could not do anything about it either.
Wilfried, the Duke of Rabid’s fourth son, had invited Ernst and Robert to a social gathering.
One that Wilfried himself was hosting.
* * *
Ernst and Robert had no idea how to handle this.
Robert was good with people, but he knew nothing about what happened at a gathering hosted by the son of a duke, a man at the very top of the nobility. And while Ernst was skilled at reading a situation, tracking prey, and luring it into traps, no one had ever taught him how to make friends with a duke’s son.
“So what should we do?”
“...”
Wilfried neatly set down the fork and knife he had raised to eat. Unlike his graceful, practiced movements, his blue eyes wandered helplessly, unsure where to look.
“H-Hey. Have you actually lost your mind?”
“Isn’t it better to ask than turn up without knowing anything and be rude? Not knowing something isn’t shameful. Pretending you know when you don’t is.”
“Damn it, right. You always say the right thing. But don’t forget that sometimes the right thing can be the wrong thing to say.”
“I don’t think this is one of those times. Anyway, Rabid.”
Ernst addressed Wilfried, the Duke of Rabid’s fourth son, once more.
“We’ll be there this evening, but could you tell us what we’re supposed to do? Oh, and can I sit next to you?”
Wilfried stared up at Ernst, stunned by this absurd situation.
He truly had never imagined that Ernst would come up to him out of nowhere during breakfast and speak to him like this.
“Yes, sit down.”
After moving his lips without a sound for a long while, Wilfried finally spoke in a calm voice. Ernst immediately sat beside him. Robert glanced around, then quickly took the seat next to Ernst.
The cadets of the noble faction, which centered on Wilfried, gave Ernst curious looks for taking the seat beside him. But since Wilfried had given permission, no one said a word.
“First, Krieger.”
Having quickly recovered from his confusion, as befitted a duke’s son, Wilfried spoke in his usual gentle voice.
“Would you call me Wilfried?”
At those words, Ernst turned his deep, dark eyes to meet Wilfried’s lake-blue gaze. For an instant, Wilfried felt an intense displeasure that he could neither describe nor explain.
“All right, Wilfried. You can call me Ernst too.”
“And call me Robert. I just can’t seem to get used to the surname Zimmermann. Oh, of course, I only mean if you ever need to call me anything. You know what I mean, right?”
Immediately after Ernst’s calm reply, Robert, whose eyes had been darting about, jumped in with a cheerful remark. It seemed like quite the wrong thing to say at quite the wrong time, but Robert was not someone who made mistakes in situations like this.
Excellent at reading the room, he had not missed the emotion that had flashed across Wilfried’s face.
“All right. Ernst, Robert.”
Wilfried smiled, treating Robert with the same courtesy he showed Ernst.
“As for this evening’s gathering, I’d like to say you’re welcome to come without feeling any pressure.”
It was quite a vague way to put it. Realizing how much he sounded like a typical noble, Wilfried corrected himself.
“No, sorry. Just come and relax. We’ll only be chatting among ourselves. Oh, by ‘ourselves,’ I mean there won’t be any upperclassmen. Nothing more than that.”
Very kindly, Wilfried explained that this small gathering was only for the new cadets and had no special purpose. He was not looking down on Ernst and Robert. He genuinely wanted to help them understand.
“All right. Then we won’t worry about it.”
Ernst nodded and began eating in silence.
His behavior left Wilfried a little taken aback. He really had not expected Ernst to ask only that question and then focus entirely on his meal. Wouldn’t people normally make conversation while eating in a situation like this?
“Quite a bit of time has passed already. Those strict upperclassmen will give us demerit points if we’re too late, so why don’t we save the rest for this evening?”
“...Yes. We’d all feel uncomfortable trying to talk in a hurry.”
Robert quietly stepped in and offered a clear way to end the conversation. Wilfried smiled and took it, bringing their exchange to a firm close.
Raising his elegant eyebrows slightly, Wilfried looked past Ernst at Robert. He was a little surprised that this merchant’s son was even better at conversation than he had expected.
Ernst finished his meal in no time and stood up first. Having practically stuffed food down his throat to keep pace, Robert finished and rose at the same time.
“See you in class later, then.”
“Though we probably won’t get to talk until this evening.”
With those farewells, Ernst and Robert promptly left. Before the cadets of the noble faction could say anything, Wilfried spoke gently.
“We should finish our breakfast too. At this rate, we really will be late.”
The cadets did not bring up Ernst and Robert. They simply ate a little faster than usual and talked about their usual subjects.
* * *
“Military studies. That’s so far outside my world.”
“You’ve already learned all the basics.”
“Oh, my esteemed teacher. I never knew you had such faith in the student you taught. I don’t even have that much faith in myself.”
Robert sighed as he grumbled. Ernst had taught him at least a rough outline of the basics of military studies.
Today was finally their first lesson in the subject. For cadets who would become officers after graduation, it was the most important course. It also offered the highest scores, while being the hardest course and the one that would torment them most.
There were no right answers in military studies, especially in strategy and tactics. Even the smallest change could turn the best tactic into the worst. They had to consider all those factors together and feel their way toward victory. It could hardly be easy. Even the instructors who taught and assessed the cadets often disagreed and debated one another. In the worst cases, they would even scream and argue.
The cadets were both nervous and excited about their first military studies lesson. In their little heads, they had already pictured countless moments of defeating the enemy and claiming victory through brilliant strategies and tactics, just like the heroes of history.
Step. Step. Step.
“Silence.”
The classroom, which had been full of whispers, fell completely silent at the heavy footsteps and the even heavier voice. The instructor crossed the front of the room with the steady pace of a machine, then came to a sharp stop.
His brown hair, heavily streaked with gray, had been firmly combed back. As his cold, dark brown eyes swept across the room, the cadets flinched and looked away.
With a jagged scar and raw burn marks on the left side of his face, the instructor was plainly a man who had roamed battlefields and killed enemies himself. His emotionless eyes seemed hollow, as though the souls of those he had killed on orders had worn them away.
“I am Thomas Koller.”
After that brief introduction, Captain Thomas Koller spoke without expression, his upper lip curled upward on the left by his scar.
“What is a soldier’s greatest virtue?”
Silence lingered in the classroom. His gaze moved slowly and smoothly, like a marble rolling down a slope. So completely overwhelmed were the cadets by Thomas that they could barely breathe.
“...Following orders and carrying out the assigned mission.”
One cadet spoke in a low voice. The others knew who it was without even looking. No one could mistake that deep voice, which cracked as it changed, for anyone but Ferdinand Hartmann.
In the past, Ferdinand would have answered Thomas’s question immediately, without hesitation. Today, however, he had slowly worked through his own thoughts before giving a careful answer.
Thomas faced Ferdinand directly. Without blinking, he moved only his lips.
“Explain.”
Ferdinand slowly drew a breath. Despite his youth, his large, rough hands were already much like those of an accomplished soldier. Clenching them tightly, he spoke firmly.
“The military chain of command must be absolute. Enlisted soldiers see war from an enlisted soldier’s perspective, and officers see it from an officer’s perspective. If someone starts questioning orders and acting on their own judgment, the intended purpose of a military operation cannot be fully achieved.”
Thomas nodded very slowly at Ferdinand’s firm words. Only then did his cold eyes blink once.
“Any other opinions?”
His gaze swept out like a blade. It landed on Wilfried Rabid, one of the two central figures among the new cadets.
Wilfried read Thomas’s intention precisely and played his part to meet the instructor’s expectations.
“A soldier must uphold honor.”
His voice was as soft as silk, a sharp contrast to Ferdinand’s. His bright blue eyes shone as he spoke gently but firmly.
“A soldier is someone who risks their life to fight the enemy. Soldiers can fight even at the cost of their lives because something matters more to them than life itself. For the Empire, for His Majesty the Emperor, and for the imperial subjects they are duty-bound to protect. If soldiers lose the honor of protecting all those things, they can no longer fight.”
At Wilfried’s confident words, the eyes of the noble faction’s cadets shone with admiration. Once again, Thomas slowly nodded.
Then his gaze swept across the cadets once more and stopped on another one.
“...”
A little taken aback by Thomas’s silent stare, Ernst blinked. He knew Thomas was pressing him for an answer. But he had no idea what answer the instructor wanted.
Even as Ernst remained silent, Thomas did not look away. Every cadet followed his gaze and turned toward Ernst. At last, Ernst slowly opened his mouth.
“...A soldier must win.”
Accustomed to sitting beside his father and speaking quietly, Ernst delivered those forceful words in a very gentle voice.
“Is that all?”
After waiting quietly, Thomas asked the question when Ernst said nothing more.
“Yes, that’s all.”
At Ernst’s reply, Thomas studied him in silence, an odd heat in his eyes.
Under that relentless gaze, Ernst realized that Thomas had seen straight through to what he had first intended to say.
What Ernst had learned from Hires was not to obey orders, uphold honor, or fight and win.
Hires had taught Ernst how to find a path that would lead him to his own answers. He had taught him how to slash an unsuspecting enemy’s ankle and slit their throat with a sharp dagger. And he had taught him how to shake off pursuit and escape.
Survival.
That was the word that tied together everything Hires had taught his young son. It was the guiding principle Ernst placed above all else.
And Thomas, a man who had experienced war firsthand, could read it in Ernst’s restlessly shifting eyes.
A faint, unreadable smile appeared on his face of steel.
“A soldier who does not obey orders is useless.”
Step.
Speaking in a low, firm voice, Thomas slowly walked across the platform. Everyone looked away from Ernst and turned toward him.
“A tool that does not work as intended is nothing but a defective product.”
Crack!
Gripping both ends of his sturdy pointer, Thomas snapped it with ease. Then he casually tossed the broken pieces aside. The sound of the wooden pointer tumbling across the floor echoed through the room, sending a chill through the cadets.
“A soldier who knows no honor is also useless.”
Rrrip!
Thomas roughly seized one of his captain’s epaulettes and tore it off. The sturdy stitching gave way under his brutal pull.
“Because they cannot overcome the fear of death and fight.”
He threw the epaulette to the floor as well. Then he looked at Ernst and spoke quietly.
“A soldier who cannot win is also useless.”
Clasping his empty hands behind his back, Thomas spoke with a chilling look in his eyes.
“I should not need to explain why.”
His somber gaze slowly moved across the young fools who had been filled with dreams of heroic battles.
“Then which virtue is the most valuable?”
No one could answer that question. Even soldiers fighting on actual battlefields, rather than new cadets, would not be able to give a certain answer. And anyone who claimed certainty would not even have the right to do so.
“Good.”
Thomas nodded, looking with satisfaction at the cadets sitting in heavy silence.
“This is my first lesson for you.”
Captain Thomas Koller, senior instructor at the Imperial Military Academy, readily gave the young fools his most valuable lesson before anything else.
“There is no right answer.”
Thomas spoke the truth to the young cadets. He had faced enemies on the battlefield, shot them and been shot himself, rolled on the ground with them, blades and spears in hand, and killed them as their hot blood and guts spilled over him.
“No one can avoid getting lost in the fog of war. From the moment you enter it, you will no longer even be able to see clearly ahead. You will lose your way. In that fog, you will fight, flee, kill, die, and, if you are lucky, survive.”
Thomas stretched his twisted lips into something like a smile, or perhaps a threat.
“Until you graduate, I will do my best to cram as many ways of finding a path as possible into those little heads of yours, already stuffed with useless nonsense. Unfortunately, not one of those methods will always be the right answer.”
...It probably was a smile.
“Congratulations on studying this damned subject called military studies, where there are no right answers. That’s all for today. Play, sleep, do whatever you like until lunch.”
Then Thomas really did leave the cadets to themselves, striding out of the classroom.
The cadets understood very clearly that military studies would not be the fun, exciting course they had expected. Anyone could see that Senior Instructor Captain Thomas Koller had no intention of letting them grin and play soldiers.
Ernst quietly watched the door through which Thomas had left. He could read a certain intention in what Thomas had said and in the things he had promised to teach.
Ernst understood why Thomas had asked him that question.
“We’re in trouble, aren’t we?”
Robert whispered to Ernst. After briefly considering what he meant, Ernst nodded.
“Probably. Well, you are.”
“Oh, Ernst, don’t get the wrong idea. Surely you didn’t think I was worried about you? Worrying about myself already takes everything I’ve got. I don’t have room to worry about anyone else.”
After chattering away all by himself in the quiet classroom, Robert covered his face with his hands and muttered gloomily.
“I hate that instructor.”
Most of the new cadets sitting in the classroom shared that feeling, so no one said anything against him.
“Don’t worry. Instructor Koller will hate you too.”
“Damn it. You’re right.”
Robert agreed with Ernst’s correct observation.
More precisely, Thomas would probably hate all the foolish young cadets who enjoyed things like social gatherings, believing everything would work out as long as they became officers.
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