WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: HidingTurtle
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ How the Child of Prophecy Survives ◈
Chapter 12: Cursed Tongue
──────
That afternoon, after Thomas’s first military studies lecture, there was a lecture on the history of the Empire, though Ernst, a boy who loved books, did not want to call it a history lecture.
“This took place when the great Mihanil Empire was still the Mihanil Barony, and our great Emperor was still the heir to that small domain.”
The lecture was full of the unbelievable, astonishing achievements of Emperor Walter Ulrich Mihanil, along with passionate praise for the Emperor. In fact, all the books Ernst had read were much the same. Publishing history books that contained anything other than praise for the Emperor was forbidden.
That made Ernst’s dissatisfaction with this kind of lecture very unusual. It meant he questioned the great Emperor’s achievements, which every imperial subject knew, and was naturally expected to know, as common knowledge.
“Just what you’d expect from the Emperor. Guns hadn’t even been used in actual combat back then, right? How did the Emperor think of developing Valt guns under those circumstances?”
“That too, but look at the tactics. They seem sophisticated even by today’s standards.”
“It must have all been possible because the Emperor is a Master Valtlacher.”
The instructor let the cadets chatter with a pleased smile. But Ernst knew that beneath that smile, the instructor’s somber eyes were studying their expressions with a chilling lack of emotion.
Ernst said nothing. He simply listened to the instructor and the cadets, occasionally gazing quietly into the brilliant blue eyes of the great Emperor’s portrait, which hung at the highest point in the classroom. Then he lost interest and went back to observing the other cadets.
“Right, right. Guns are widely used now, but back then they were just toys.”
“Right, right. I don’t know much about tactics, but that casualty ratio is just ridiculous.”
“Right, right. The Emperor is truly one of a kind.”
Meanwhile, Robert read the room, slipped in just enough words of agreement, and nodded along, playing the attentive listener to perfection.
After talking for quite some time, the cadets suddenly realized Robert was taking part in their conversation and were startled. Not one of them had noticed when, where, or how this shamelessly friendly boy had slipped in. In a slightly different sense, he was an uncanny fellow.
After the afternoon-long “Praise Our Great Emperor Gathering” ended, they returned to their room. Robert let out several deep sighs, looking utterly exhausted.
“I’m scared to death.”
Robert whispered very softly. He really was afraid someone else might hear.
“This is your fault, Ernst.”
Robert complained to him.
“Really?”
“Hey!”
When Ernst gave a playful smile and said that damned “Really?” Robert shouted at him, making a completely unthreatening attempt to threaten him. As Robert glared and clumsily swung his fists through the air, Ernst spoke in a quiet whisper.
“Do you really think emptying your head and following everyone else is good for you?”
“Oh, of course. Everything our great Mr. Ernst Krieger says is right.”
“Am I really right?”
“Damn it.”
Robert had been teasing him with playful sarcasm, but when Ernst asked him again, all he could do was curse.
“Really, Robert. Do you think I’m right?”
“...”
At Ernst’s serious question, Robert fell silent and quietly looked into his friend’s black eyes.
He recalled what Senior Instructor Captain Thomas Koller had said in that morning’s military studies lecture and carefully began to speak.
“So far, at least.”
Robert spoke calmly, with none of his usual lighthearted manner. A clear light of insight shone in the seemingly ordinary brown eyes of the fourteen-year-old merchant’s son.
“Ernst. Wilfried seems a little uncomfortable around you.”
Robert returned to his usual casual tone. It was almost time for dinner. After that, they had to attend Wilfried’s social gathering. Both of them.
“Why?”
“Who knows? I haven’t figured out that much.”
Robert shrugged at Ernst’s question. But Ernst had noticed the faint emotion Wilfried had shown at breakfast too. He simply did not know the reason.
“Please, I’m begging you. Don’t treat our young lord the way you treated Hartmann. Our reputations already have more than enough problems. You know what I mean, right?”
Robert’s plea was very earnest. He sounded quite playful, but he was actually rather desperate.
The merchant’s son, who was skilled at dealing with people, had quickly noticed that Ferdinand had started acting strangely after exchanging a few words with Ernst during shooting practice the previous evening.
Their relationship with Ferdinand, the leader of the first-year military faction, had already become delicate. If their relationship with Wilfried, the leader of the noble faction, also became delicate, Ernst and Robert’s reputations and standing would not merely be in a delicate state. They would be completely destroyed.
Though that would only be a problem for Robert. Ernst had the ability to prove himself regardless of any factional struggles.
“I’ll try.”
“Oh, of course you will. My friend, always so impressive when he makes an effort.”
“You’re impressive when you make an effort too. When you actually make one, that is. You know what I mean, right?”
“Really?”
Ernst chuckled softly as he copied Robert’s tone. Robert, who had not been particularly interested in making an effort in the first place, raised an eyebrow and copied Ernst in return.
“No, I was just saying that.”
“Hey.”
“I’m joking.”
“About which part?”
“There is no right answer, Robert Zimmermann.”
“Yes, of course. Long live the great Mr. Ernst. Long live.”
After the two boys left, still joking around and imitating their instructors, the room sank into dark silence.
* * *
The Imperial Military Academy had several spaces for social gatherings. It was an institution for training officers, but most of its cadets came from powerful noble families. Some disciplinary officers even actively encouraged such aristocratic gatherings. There was no better place than the academy to build connections.
“Hello, Wilfried.”
“...”
Wilfried was startled to see Ernst greet him so casually. He had told Ernst to come without worrying about formalities, and Ernst had taken him at his word.
To be more precise, Ernst had turned up just after dinner, when Wilfried was about to begin preparing for the gathering. He had barged in before anything was ready.
“...Should I come back later?”
After opening the door and stepping inside, Ernst found Wilfried and the academy servants, who had been about to prepare the gathering under his direction, staring blankly at him. He spoke with an awkward look.
Robert had taken a quick look through the doorway, then silently slipped away and vanished, leaving Ernst behind. It was hard to say whether he was clever or underhanded.
“No, it’s fine. Come in. I’ve wanted a chance for the two of us to talk like this.”
Wilfried decided not to expect common sense from Ernst. As a duke’s son, Wilfried probably shared the same sense of what was normal only with cadets from other high-ranking noble families. He could consider this a useful lesson.
At the words “the two of us,” Ernst turned to look for Robert. Realizing Robert had already fled, he approached Wilfried with a feeling of betrayal.
“I will speak with our early guest for a while. Please carry on as instructed.”
“Yes, Lord Wilfried.”
The servants lowered their eyes and bowed their heads as they answered politely. The moment Wilfried gave them an order, he seemed very unfamiliar to Ernst. Even among the cadets, Wilfried had always been the center of attention, but he did not give orders as though it were only natural.
Wilfried was certainly polite to the servants too. Yet his commanding manner clearly carried the gentle charisma of someone born to rule.
“Come on, Ernst. Have a seat.”
Speaking to Ernst in his usual way again, Wilfried sat on a soft sofa. Ernst quietly sat opposite him. A servant hurried over to pour tea, then withdrew to prepare the tea tables and chairs for the other cadets.
“What you said during military studies this morning was quite impressive.”
Wilfried spoke to Ernst while completely ignoring the servants, as though they did not exist.
“I didn’t say anything that special.”
All Ernst had said then was, “A soldier must win.” To him, that had merely been a vague answer to get through the moment, so he truly thought nothing of it.
“...I see.”
Wilfried had only just resolved not to expect common sense from Ernst. Yet he was taken aback when Ernst firmly kicked aside the topic he had offered to lighten the mood, and a little disappointed in himself for being taken aback.
“The truth is, I became a little interested in you after hearing about your father.”
Rather than insisting on an aristocratic way of speaking, Wilfried tried to be direct for Ernst’s sake.
“Very few soldiers receive the Noble Heart Medal while they’re still alive. I thought he must be a very admirable person.”
But he could not entirely abandon the way of speaking that had become second nature to him. He still found himself circling the outside of the subject, slowly working his way toward the heart of it.
Wilfried had previously judged Ernst to be of no value. But after thinking it over carefully, he had changed his mind and decided Ernst was worth winning over.
None of the cadets in Wilfried’s noble faction came from a line of “real soldiers.” Some did come from military families, but their relatives were soldiers in name only who had been promoted through their families’ influence.
In that sense, Ernst Krieger would be a great asset to the noble faction. His father, Hires Krieger, had come from the insignificant Krieger family yet retired as a colonel, then received the Noble Heart Medal after retirement.
More precisely, Ernst would be a useful connection for Wilfried Rabid, who would have to serve as a real soldier after graduating from the academy. Ernst himself was also more than capable.
“That’s right.”
Ernst answered with a faint smile and a nod.
“Though I respect my father regardless of his medal.”
He spoke in the same gentle, quiet voice he used when talking with his father. It was not some medal of his father’s that Ernst respected. He respected his father because he understood the value of what Hires Krieger, as a person, had shown and taught his son.
“...”
With an elegantly composed smile, Wilfried slowly crossed his legs and neatly rested his hands on top of them. His bright blue eyes flashed as though trying to read something in Ernst.
“Don’t you respect your father?”
“...”
At Ernst’s calm question, Wilfried went eerily still. Something stirred within his cold blue eyes. Then disgust and displeasure that he could no longer hide washed over his beautiful face like a wave.
“How rude.”
Wilfried stared coldly at Ernst, moving only his lips as he spoke in a near whisper. That was the greatest display of emotion permitted to Wilfried Rabid, the Duke of Rabid’s fourth son.
“Sorry, Wilfried.”
Ernst apologized readily. Strictly speaking, he had done nothing wrong to Wilfried in this situation.
But he had noticed Wilfried’s hatred of the Rabid name and still asked whether he respected his father. That was certainly Ernst’s fault, even if it had only been an honest question.
Ernst had not missed Wilfried’s reaction during their conversation that morning. At the time, he had thought:
‘He doesn’t like the Rabid name.’
The moment Ernst realized it, Wilfried had clearly shown his displeasure. And just now, when Ernst spoke of respecting his father, he had caught a clear glimpse of the disgust lingering in Wilfried’s blue eyes.
Wilfried Rabid loathed and hated his father, the great Duke of Rabid. The duke had already given his eldest son many things as his heir and would eventually pass the entire dukedom to him. He had also given his second and third sons a great deal, even if it was less than what the eldest received. All simply because they had been born earlier.
Yet he would not waste even a single dek “investing” in Wilfried, his fourth son.
“...”
“...”
An awkward silence passed between them. Wilfried slowly steadied his breathing, trying to regain control after his display of emotion. Aware of his own mistake, Ernst waited quietly.
“You don’t fit.”
Unfortunately, Wilfried failed to control himself. For the first time in his life, someone had seen a shameful part of him that he kept hidden. He felt intense shame and frustration.
Of course, Wilfried himself knew perfectly well that those feelings were directed not at Ernst, but at himself and his great father.
“You’re a noble, yet you know nothing of honor. You’re a soldier, yet you try to step outside the system.”
Wilfried whispered in a very low, confidential, gentle voice.
Ernst belonged to the Kriegers, a hereditary noble family, and had become a soldier upon entering the academy. Yet he seemed to follow none of the values everyone else shared.
“And you have no loyalty to the Empire or the Emperor, do you?”
“Loyalty.”
Only when Wilfried mentioned loyalty did Ernst, who had been quietly listening, finally speak.
“Then what about you, Wilfried?”
Ernst asked in a serious voice, as though Wilfried’s almost accusatory words had neither hurt him nor made him feel threatened in the slightest.
“What do you think of our... Hmm, our history of the Empire lectures?”
“...”
Ernst lowered his voice to a whisper.
Once again, Wilfried was a little disappointed in himself for failing to keep his promise not to expect common sense from Ernst.
“You probably asked me that because you’ve been observing me too. I’ve actually been observing you myself. Well, everyone, really. But you definitely stood out. Like this...”
Ernst broke off, lowered his gaze, and slowly tilted his head, shifting his eyes along with it. The movement was chillingly similar to the faint reaction Wilfried sometimes showed when listening to praise for the Emperor during their history lectures.
“You were uncomfortable, weren’t you?”
“...”
Wilfried was too unsettled to have any room left for something as simple as displeasure. He realized that Ernst’s restlessly moving eyes were gathering information as he persistently observed everything around him, and that his observations were astonishingly accurate.
“You too, actually...”
Ernst’s quiet voice faded like a candle whose wick had burned down to nothing. A servant carrying a chair glanced at the two silent boys, then passed by.
“What do you think, Wilfried?”
After the servant had passed, Ernst asked again. He had left out almost everything, but Wilfried knew what he meant.
“...A noble...”
After a long silence, Wilfried spoke firmly in a heavy voice.
“Is someone who bears duties. Rights come after that.”
He considered his own words once more, slowly nodded, then spoke in a clearer voice.
“That’s all, Ernst.”
“...”
Conscious of the eyes and ears around them, Wilfried had been far too vague. It almost sounded as though he had said something completely unrelated.
But it was enough of an answer for Ernst.
“Then we’re accomplices, even if our reasons are a little different.”
Wilfried’s fine eyebrows drew together slightly. He would rather Ernst had failed to understand him. But Ernst had understood him perfectly.
A noble’s rights could not take priority over a noble’s duties. Duty came first, and rights followed.
So I do not swear loyalty to the Emperor to lick up whatever honey drips down. I simply carry out the duties given to me and receive the rights I have rightfully earned.
The “duties of a noble” Wilfried meant were not those granted through a bargain with the Emperor. Those were merely obligations his family had taken on when they swore loyalty to the Emperor for their own interests.
Wilfried meant the duties that had naturally fallen to leaders when people first gathered into groups, the heavy duty to meet the expectations of those who trusted and followed them.
Ernst questioned the authority of the Emperor, who wielded absolute power. He did so based on what he had learned from his respected father, Hires Krieger.
And Wilfried placed no value on the Emperor’s authority itself. He did so based on what he had learned through his hated father, the Duke of Rabid.
Either was an unforgivable crime. If the servant moving chairs right beside them understood the hidden meaning in their words and reported it, neither Ernst nor Wilfried would get away with merely being in trouble.
Even the slightest doubt or denial concerning the great Emperor could lead to an accusation of treason.
Wilfried felt rather awful.
Even as he felt displeasure toward Ernst, he also felt a small sense of kinship with him.
Fourteen was too young to have the maturity to bear that.
“...I’m sorry, but would you leave now? Please take Robert with you too. Though he may have already gone back.”
Wilfried spoke gently and quietly. His brilliant blue eyes glared into Ernst’s dark ones as though trying to pierce them.
“No, I’m not sorry.”
For Ernst’s sake, Wilfried spoke directly.
“I don’t like you. No, I hate you.”
“...I can’t say... I haven’t given you a reason to hate me, but...”
Flustered, Ernst muttered and tried to find an excuse. But even he had to admit that he had crossed a line.
“Sorry. But honestly, I wanted to hear what you thought from a young lord’s point of view.”
“Would you please not call me that?”
“I’ve gotten used to hearing Robert say it...”
“Please tell Robert not to call me that either.”
“Oh, right. But Robert doesn’t mean anything bad by it...”
“I know. Unlike you, Robert has his pleasant side.”
In noble society, letting others see one’s true feelings was shameful. It was also something a ruler had to avoid at all costs, because it became a weakness.
Unlike Robert, who was impossible to hate, Ernst was impossible not to hate. At least, that was how Wilfried felt now that Ernst had seen straight through everything he kept inside.
Ernst’s powers of observation, analysis, and insight were all astonishingly sharp. And that made him truly unbearable company.
For a moment, Ernst stared at Wilfried in dismay. Then he slowly looked around. There was no one nearby except a few servants who were nearly finished preparing for the gathering.
“This is the first time someone’s hated me like this. What should I do?”
At Ernst’s urgent question, Wilfried was once again disappointed in himself for expecting common sense from him. After so many disappointments, that feeling had grown quite considerable.
But who could possibly have imagined Ernst would ask that question of Wilfried himself?
“Instead of asking that, would you please leave as quickly as possible?”
At last, Ernst rose dejectedly at Wilfried’s order to leave and trudged out of the room.
Even after Ernst was gone, Wilfried had to spend a long time in silence, trying to calm his unsettled heart.
Everyone had private parts of themselves they did not want others to see. Today, Wilfried had had his exposed in a situation he had never expected, by a person he had never expected. And in a very unpleasant way.
Feeling anger that would not settle even after his long silence, Wilfried thought he would never be able to forgive Ernst.
Wilfried himself knew it was cowardly. But it was impossible for a fourteen-year-old boy to control his emotions perfectly. He would remember this moment of shame and humiliation until the day he died.
* * *
“Wilfried said not to call him our young lord.”
“Don’t tell me you sold me out by bringing up my name.”
“You ran away first.”
“You bastard!”
“Well, if you’d come in with me, this wouldn’t have happened.”
Ernst had returned to their room to find Robert lying comfortably on his bed, resting and pretending to know nothing. He was quite angry.
Robert, meanwhile, had a considerable headache of his own, because Ernst had told Wilfried outright that Robert called him their young lord.
After fiercely blaming each other, the two boys sat with their heads together and talked.
“That was your fault.”
That was what Robert said after Ernst told him about his conversation with Wilfried, leaving out the slightly dangerous parts.
“Then what do I do now?”
“How would I know?”
“Hey, think of something. I’m helping you, so you have to help me too. It’s a deal. A deal.”
When Robert indifferently pretended it was none of his business, Ernst brought up their deal.
“Now, now. A deal? Between friends? It’s just give and take.”
Robert, who was usually the one insisting they had a deal, shamelessly kept pretending not to know anything.
“Fine. I gave, so hand something over.”
But Ernst would not let it go. Robert’s eyes shifted as he thought for a moment, then he spoke with a serious expression.
“...Want some candy?”
“Candy? How? You’re not allowed to bring it into the dormitory.”
“There are ways.”
“You should really be grateful you haven’t been expelled.”
Ernst grumbled as he rolled a piece of candy around in his mouth, with no idea where or how Robert had obtained it. Robert grinned and popped one into his own mouth.
“Well, even if Wilfried hates you, how much can he really do? He’s only our young lord, the duke’s son who leads the new cadets’ noble faction.”
“...I’m going to tell him you called him our young lord again.”
“Hey! You just said it too! I heard you loud and clear!”
“You’re so childish. You’re no help.”
“Oh, how could someone like me possibly be of help to our great Mr. Ernst?”
After happily blaming and mocking each other, the two boys realized how embarrassing their behavior was and decided to stop.
It was time to wash up and get some sleep.
Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried