WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: HidingTurtle
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ How the Child of Prophecy Survives ◈
Chapter 6: True Warrior
──────
Ernst and Robert had to begin the morning after their enrollment in a thoroughly unpleasant way.
“Good. This is neat.”
The moment they woke, changed clothes, and finished preparing to leave, a disciplinary assistant barged in, checked the state of their room, and left. What made it unpleasant was that only three of the thirty freshman rooms had been inspected without warning. And all three belonged to students who had not attended the Youth Military Academy.
Even more unpleasant was the fact that the upperclassman had not knocked. He had picked the lock and entered as he pleased.
The disciplinary assistants assigned to the Cadet Corps had the authority to access spare keys for every room in case of emergency. But using those keys was allowed only in special circumstances, never in ordinary situations. If they went around throwing open the doors to the private rooms of cadets from powerful families and military households, it could lead to a real duel to the death. That was no joke.
“Ah, all right. I get it. I see what this means.”
Robert had been fuming before breakfast, but on the way back to their room afterward, his face suddenly brightened.
“This isn't just harassment. They're telling us to show them some goodwill, out of respect for our upperclassmen. That's it!”
Robert thought this persistent harassment meant they wanted him to show some “goodwill.” It was a shrewd judgment, befitting the son of a businessman who had found great success in Grimman.
“Robert. If you show them even the smallest bit of ‘goodwill,’ I won't help you.”
“What?”
“More importantly, that isn't the kind of goodwill they want.”
Ernst spoke calmly.
“Hardly anyone at the Imperial Military Academy is poor enough to be dazzled by the amount of money a mere freshman could offer. And every disciplinary assistant in the Cadet Corps is a hereditary noble.”
“Wait, all the disciplinary assistants are hereditary nobles? Are you sure?”
“Yes. Just as all the training assistants come from military families.”
Ernst had checked every person he saw in passing. He could not grasp and analyze every detail, but he could at least identify each person's status and sort them according to their notable traits.
Without a single exception, every disciplinary assistant in the Cadet Corps came from a hereditary noble family. Likewise, every training assistant in the faculty came from a military family.
“They don't want goodwill from you. They just don't like the sight of you. To people from powerful families who have followed the finest elite course since the Youth Military Academy, a freshman like you, who bought a noble title and entered the Imperial Military Academy, must be an object of contempt.”
Robert fell silent for a moment, his eyes darting about. Then he tapped his chin with a finger.
“...I didn't do anything wrong, did I? This was a legitimate transaction, protected by the authority of Their Majesty the great Emperor.”
“Yes. You did nothing wrong.”
Robert knew this was not mere lobbying. The Emperor had authorized the buying and selling of noble titles. The Emperor had also authorized the buying and selling of admission rights to the Imperial Military Academy.
The intent behind it was to make up for the enormous financial losses caused by the wars of conquest, while expanding influence over the vastly enlarged territory.
In other words, Robert's qualification to enter the Imperial Military Academy was protected by the authority of Their Majesty the Emperor.
“Hmm... All right. That's as far as I can get. So what should we do?”
Robert could not figure out what he ought to do. Aside from the Emperor's authorization and the money already paid, he did not know what else he was expected to give.
“First, there is nothing wrong with what the Cadet Corps upperclassmen have done. So far.”
“What about entering our room this morning?”
Robert had diligently memorized the school rules at Ernst's urging. He knew it was against the rules.
“This sort of thing will be common early in the freshmen's enrollment. It has probably become customary. Protesting will do no good.”
“Still, shouldn't we protest?”
“Too early.”
“Too early... All right. Then there was nothing we could do about the room being messed up, either.”
“Right. There is no culprit for that.”
“Then what should we do now?”
Ernst unlocked their door. They had only gone out for breakfast, so the room should have remained as neat as it had been when they left.
Without opening the door fully, Ernst peered inside through the gap. The room was as tidy as before.
However, before leaving, Ernst had loosely affixed a single strand of thread below the door. Seeing that it had fallen, it seemed they had had another visitor while they were away.
“We need to become very proper model students.”
“...I feel like I'll be expelled after piling up demerit points before I ever earn that reputation, but yes, reputation matters.”
Robert quickly understood Ernst's meaning. Reputation was an abstract thing that could not be seen or bought with money. Yet its power was immense. Reputation was honor, and nobles and soldiers could risk even their lives for honor.
“What are you planning after we build our reputation? No matter how good it is, if this keeps happening, we'll be finished.”
“It'll be fine. We'll finish this before then. We, or rather, you, just need to avoid receiving demerit points for anything other than poor tidiness.”
“Damn. It must be nice to be the son of a hereditary noble. But how much do I owe you now?”
Robert considered the debt he owed Ernst, who had saved him from being expelled as soon as he entered the Imperial Military Academy. It was a debt beyond imagination. He had to consider not only the money his father had spent, but also the honor and authority Robert would gain as an Academy graduate and military officer, which would later allow him to buy a hereditary noble title.
“For now, it is enough not to forget it. And...”
Ernst locked the door himself, then turned to Robert, who had entered first, and gave him a seemingly shy smile.
“I told you. I like hunting.”
“...”
“Seeing big prey wandering around while it has its guard down is quite fun.”
“Uh... No. Never mind.”
Robert thought that perhaps Ernst was not entirely sane.
Considering the training Ernst had received from Hires, it might not have been such a mistaken thought.
* * *
The instruction they received the morning after enrollment was none other than drill training.
“Halt!”
Clack!
“I cannot have been the only one who heard your footsteps dragging like farmers trudging through cow dung! Again! Forward, march!”
“Forward, march!”
Click! Click! Click! Click!
The disciplinary officer treated the freshmen harshly. He did not seem to care in the slightest whether there were sons of high nobles among them. And the sons of powerful families underwent the drill training without a word of complaint.
Those from hereditary noble and military families understood its purpose and necessity. Noble society was not all appearances, but even a minor flaw in one's appearance could lead to a loss of honor. And discipline was the lifeblood of the military. They truly had no complaints.
The ones dissatisfied with drill training were nonhereditary nobles like Robert, who were not from military families. The disciplinary officer had not explained the purpose or necessity of the training, so they could not understand why they had to suffer through such pointless work.
However, determined to earn the excellent reputation of a model student, Robert followed Ernst's advice and trained with taut concentration.
Ernst had, in fact, already received some drill training from his father. It had not been thorough, since Hires considered drill necessary but useless on an actual battlefield. The paradigm of war had changed drastically after Valt rifles were issued to the Imperial Army. Now, keeping formation while marching in step was only necessary during marches.
Thus, Ernst moved reasonably well when the drill training first began. But after more than an hour of the damned training, his concentration reached its limit before his stamina did, and he began making small mistakes. Drill had not yet completely become second nature to him.
“Rest!”
“Haaah!”
At the hard-won break, everyone sighed and staggered away. Several cadets from commoner backgrounds flopped onto the ground, then sprang back up after looking around nervously. Robert nearly did the same, but Ernst quickly seized his arm and kept him from making the mistake.
The cadets gathered in small groups on chairs set along one side of the training ground. They drank tea prepared in advance by the servants assigned to the Imperial Military Academy and began chatting casually.
“Considering our performance so far, wouldn't it be better to give up on being model students? I mean, not just me. You don't seem to be in a very good position either.”
Robert grinned as he recalled Ernst's mistakes in the latter half of the drill.
“It is more important to show that we will not give up. We did not attend the Youth Military Academy, and we are learning everything here from the beginning.”
“A sound judgment.”
It was not Robert who answered Ernst.
A boy stood with his hands behind his back beside the tea table where Ernst and Robert sat, looking down at them. His black hair was oiled and stubbornly pressed back. He had large brown eyes, a square jaw, and stood half a head taller than Ernst, who was already tall for his age, with broad shoulders to match.
“Ferdinand Hartmann. May I sit?”
Trying to make his cracking voice as low and imposing as possible, Ferdinand asked politely.
“Ernst Krieger. Of course.”
Ernst answered smoothly and pointed to the remaining chair. Ferdinand sat at once, and astonishingly, he looked even bigger once seated. He was so tall that his massive shoulders had seemed slightly smaller than they truly were.
Hartmann!
From Ferdinand's ornate insignia, Robert realized that he was both a hereditary noble and from a military family. Then, as he turned the name Hartmann over in his mind, he recognized who Ferdinand was and bit his tongue hard in shock.
Robert's father had taught him about the important people in this class. He had told Robert to at least make an impression on them, and promised not to scold him even if he were expelled, so long as he made connections.
One of those people was Ferdinand Hartmann, eldest grandson of Brigadier General Heinz Hartmann, the chief of staff of the Second Corps.
Robert wanted to tell Ernst what this broad-shouldered boy represented. But the moment Ferdinand sat at their tea table, an odd silence fell as all the freshmen pretended otherwise while discreetly focusing their attention on them. Robert had no chance to speak.
More importantly, Ernst already knew what Ferdinand was. Not his family background. He only knew that there were two factions among the first-year cadets from the Youth Military Academy, and that this boy was the “master” of one of them.
“I know many excellent soldiers of the Empire. Yet I could not recall the name Krieger.”
Ferdinand sat erect without doing anything undignified, such as bracing himself on the table or leaning too heavily against the chair back, as he looked at Ernst.
“My father retired around the time I was born. He was a colonel.”
“Then he must be an excellent man.”
Ferdinand was honestly impressed by Ernst's proud words.
Ernst was only fourteen, and even if his father had him late, he could not have been over forty at the time. To become a colonel so young, he must have distinguished himself greatly. If he had remained in the military and built his career smoothly, he might have been promoted to brigadier general before turning fifty.
Ferdinand knew well how remarkable that was, since his grandfather, Brigadier General Heinz Hartmann, was the chief of staff of the Second Corps.
Had he known Hires was only thirty-two when he retired as a colonel, Ferdinand would have been truly astonished.
“Krieger. I will be direct. I want you to join us.”
Ferdinand spoke while looking at the silver pin that secured Ernst's rank insignia.
“Because of my father's rank?”
Ernst asked, meeting Ferdinand's eyes without losing his composure. Ferdinand did not avoid Ernst's gaze, either.
“It is certainly valuable, but it had only a minor influence on my decision.”
At last, Ferdinand changed his rigid posture. He interlaced his large, rough hands, which were hard to believe belonged to a fourteen-year-old boy, and placed them on the tea table.
“We have the same hands.”
Ernst's hand around his teacup was slimmer and smaller than Ferdinand's, but the signs of grueling training upon them were astonishingly similar.
“And I know that your wandering eyes are actually faster and sharper than a bullet after it leaves the barrel, Krieger.”
Ferdinand had watched this unknown boy, who seemed to have appeared from nowhere, closely since the entrance ceremony. Several times, he had seen Ernst's dark eyes, seemingly scattered and restless from poor concentration, assess the surroundings quickly and carefully like a hunter hidden in the shadows.
“I can give you... Ahem. Excuse me.”
Ferdinand began to speak heavily, but his voice suddenly cracked high. After clearing his throat, he continued.
“I can give you what you need.”
“And in return, you get my modest support?”
“Yes.”
Seeing Ernst shift his eyes slightly toward the leader of the other faction, Ferdinand nodded gravely.
“What do I need?”
Ernst asked Ferdinand in a calm voice what he needed.
Ferdinand narrowed his eyes and stared at Ernst. Then he slowly lowered his hands beneath the table and rose with tidy movements. As he adjusted his clothing, he spoke.
“I will wait for you to make a wise decision.”
Then Ferdinand headed to where the followers of his military faction had gathered and began conversing with them as though nothing had happened.
“Hey, hey... What are you going to do?”
Robert, who was in danger of becoming a kite with its string cut, cautiously asked Ernst. If Ernst joined the military faction, he would have no reason to associate with someone like Robert. Perhaps Ferdinand's enthusiastic efforts would even get Ernst assigned to a new room.
“I wonder.”
Ernst spoke carelessly and took a sip of tea. Others watched him closely as well, boys from high noble families who formed the core of the noble faction.
“Just what sort of family is Krieger?”
“I don't know a single person who knows them.”
“Maybe we should at least talk to him...”
“Hartmann got there first. Besides, Krieger might just be some family that farms in the countryside...”
“Enough.”
“...”
The boys whispering about Ernst's Krieger family shut their mouths as though by magic at that single short word.
A boy with golden hair that glittered in the sunlight set down his teacup without a sound. His brilliant blue eyes curved gently as he spoke.
“I do not think it is good behavior to judge another family carelessly.”
“...Sorry. I will be more careful from now on, Wilfried.”
The boy who had babbled about Krieger gave an awkward smile and apologized at the gentle words of Wilfried, the fourth son of Duke of Rabid, a beautiful youth as if painted.
Wilfried smiled softly. His blue eyes narrowed slightly, passed over Ernst for a brief moment, then returned.
In truth, despite his words, Wilfried was not in a very good mood. He had assumed Ernst would come greet him first. Yet Ernst had the audacity not only to skip the greeting, but to avoid even meeting his eyes.
Ernst clearly seemed to know about the factions. Yet he had only been observing the other cadets, without showing them the slightest interest.
Wilfried found that extremely unpleasant. He was very clever and sensitive to every sort of emotion that arose in human relationships.
To Wilfried, Ernst appeared to have judged that relationships with anyone other than Robert, his roommate, offered too little value for the time and effort invested. And Wilfried's judgment was not wrong.
Ernst had not forgotten his respected father's teachings, and he followed them well. It was enough to possess irreplaceable ability. Factions did not matter. Rather than waste time getting involved in factional conflicts, he would focus on himself.
What an unpleasant fellow.
Wilfried glared briefly at the back of Ernst's head, then elegantly sipped his tea.
After that, Wilfried Rabid stopped paying attention to Ernst altogether. He knew Ernst would not join Ferdinand's military faction.
Unlike nonhereditary nobles from commoner backgrounds, who could belong nowhere, Ernst merely chose to belong nowhere. But whether that choice was voluntary or not did not matter. If he would not get involved, that was the end of it. He had no value.
And Wilfried did not have enough leeway to waste resources on something worthless.
When Wilfried was five, Duke of Rabid gathered his sons and told them of the inheritance he would one day leave behind.
The Duke did not want to weaken the family's power by dividing his inheritance evenly among his children. He said he would give the eldest son the ducal title and as much as possible, while leaving the second and third sons only the bare minimum needed to support their elder brother and ensure they could not escape him.
And to Wilfried, his fourth son, he said he would leave only the Rabid name. He made it clear that would be all.
If Wilfried could not be commissioned after graduation into somewhere worth political or military investment, all support from the family would cease. Therefore, Wilfried had to graduate from the Imperial Military Academy with good marks, and even afterward he had to secure as much influence as possible to make his own way in life.
To Wilfried, Ernst, who offered no help, was certainly worthless. But that alone would not be enough reason to find him unpleasant.
Wilfried decided to stop thinking about Ernst, but the very fact that he found him unpleasant meant he was already paying him considerable attention.
I should have someone look into Krieger.
In the end, Wilfried decided to send a letter to the villa in Grimman. He did not know what sort of family Krieger was, but they could not evade the eyes and ears of the House of Rabid.
* * *
“All right, Ernst. Listen carefully.”
Robert spoke in a calm voice.
“I have already been ordered to clean the corridor, and I have even had to run around the training ground. At most, those damned bastards have two days left before they get me expelled.”
Despite his calm voice, his words were quite rough. It could not be helped. Robert had received nothing but drill training for three days after entering the Imperial Military Academy, yet his demerit points had already accumulated near their limit, leaving him with his neck on the line.
The upperclassmen's harassment was petty and relentless. Whenever Ernst and Robert left their room, Robert's bedding was in disarray, the books he had received were smeared with ink, and his spare cadet uniform had been torn.
A few other freshmen were in the same position as Robert. But unlike Robert, they had no one like Ernst to lean on, leaving them in truly desperate circumstances.
Thus, they had no choice but to kneel before the upperclassmen and beg, or humbly seek help from one of the two freshman factions. That humiliating attitude was exactly what the upperclassmen wanted from vulgar commoners. They would have to live like servants until graduation.
In that sense, it was only natural that all the harassment focused on Robert, who still had not surrendered to the upperclassmen. Robert was racing toward expulsion at a pace that would be remembered in the history of the Imperial Military Academy.
“Have we not waited long enough? Isn't it time?”
Pointing at the wrecked room, Robert asked Ernst.
“Yes. It is time.”
At last, Ernst gave Robert the words he had been waiting for.
“First, let's clean the room and go see the disciplinary officer.”
“Oh, come on, Ernst. That excellent disciplinary officer has neither eyes nor ears. Even if the dog he keeps carried off a key, he would not notice.”
Robert sneered bitterly. He was already disappointed not only with the upperclassmen and the disciplinary officer, but with everything about the Imperial Military Academy. And his confidence that Ernst could overcome this difficult situation had begun to fade.
Ernst could simply join Ferdinand's military faction, which wanted him. He could discard a powerless nonhereditary noble like Robert whenever he wished.
In truth, Robert did not understand why Ernst was helping him. Because they shared a room? Because they had become acquainted? Such things were worthless. They had barely known each other.
But to Ernst, Robert was someone worth investing his precious time and opportunities in for several reasons.
First, Robert, who was clearly being treated unfairly, could become a “just cause” for Ernst to act. Ernst understood the importance of a just cause. Hires had taught him that.
And this was not particularly important, though it did have some influence on Ernst's principles of action, so it was worth mentioning.
Until he turned fourteen, Ernst had never made a friend his own age. So it would not be strange if he felt this small, insignificant relationship more deeply than it truly was.
“It is good that he has neither eyes nor ears.”
Ernst spoke as he helped Robert organize his ruined belongings.
“It means we can attack any way we like, right?”
“...I really don't think you're sane.”
“I think you're very rude.”
“Tch...”
Ernst had already obtained everything he needed.
All that remained was to set the trap, catch the prey, cut off its breath, and take its hide and meat.
And Ernst, the hunter raised by Hires, knew that the prey would have no choice but to step into the trap. No, Ernst would make it so.
A skilled hunter did not simply set a trap and wait. A skilled hunter could make the prey step into it.
Ernst wore the smile he had when he searched for prey with his father, and when he received his father's praise after cleanly cutting off its breath. It was a smile possible only because he knew with certainty that his hunt would succeed.
Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried