Chapter 47

The rank of Duke—it referred to a remarkably noble bloodline, one situated as close to royalty as possible.

Even within the privileged classes, a wealthy merchant and a Ducal house were as different as a moon and a snapping turtle.

Within the nobility itself, the gap between a Duke, the highest rank, and a Marquis, just one step below, was like heaven and earth in terms of financial power, the size of their fief, the King’s trust, and sheer authority. To put it in perspective, the difference was akin to a destitute commoner scraping by on crumbs versus a merchant feasting on luxuries every single day… Unless one was blessed with extraordinary luck or a miraculous encounter, it was safe to say that gap would never be bridged.

When you belonged to a Ducal house, your glory was practically guaranteed even without striving for military merit as a knight. Consequently, members of such families almost never joined a knight order in this kingdom. Most nobles who became knights hailed from families with shorter histories, like Barons or Viscounts.

So, the mere fact that a child of such a noble lineage as a Ducal house was at the Officers’ Academy was surprising enough, but the story had an even more shocking continuation.

“―I see, so they want to join our order. I don’t know if they’re a hobbyist or just eccentric… but you’ve certainly taken charge of a very strange student.”

“Not as strange as a bastard who laid a hand on his former instructor, you ungrateful piece of shit.”

“How cruel… how could you say such a thing to your cute former student!?”

“There’s a limit to how thick-faced you can be!! That blatant act just now was definitely your way of getting back at me, wasn’t it!?”

Instructor Rosso was in an extremely foul mood after what had been done to him with the chair earlier.

In contrast, Amal and I were practically glowing with satisfaction now that we’d finished our revenge.

I won’t go into detail about what happened. I’m sure the instructor doesn’t want to speak of his own shame. Puhaha.

“Still, to think such an unexpected threat would emerge…”

“I told you, this is a conversation that benefits you too. The current Pig-Hunt Knights are nothing more than a battered sailing ship that would have wrecked long ago if Luger wasn’t at the helm. You don’t want to hold onto any more live bombs, do you?”

“Well, I guess you’re right… Regardless of what she’s thinking, this has turned into a bit of a headache…”

“…Um, why is it a ‘headache’ if Rosalind-san is from a Ducal house and joins the Pig-Hunt Knights? She’s an elite student, unlike me, so why not just let her go where she wants?”

Amal tilted her head, seemingly unable to grasp the situation.

From an outsider’s perspective, it was a natural question.

An elite noble student who achieved top grades at the Officers’ Academy wanted to join the knight order of their choice.

The order would gain an excellent officer candidate, and the individual’s wish would be granted.

At a glance, it was a wonderful, mutually beneficial relationship.

However, while it might be fine for the person joining, it wasn’t so great for the ones taking them in.

“It wouldn’t have been a problem if her desired destination was one of the other Holy Knight Orders, but her coming to our place is a bit of a problem…”

“There was a massive dispute when Astraea joined the Holy Vessel Knights too, but in a way, this is an even bigger issue. We have to make her give up on the Pig-Hunt Knights, no matter what.”

“Damn it, why am I dealing with such a pain on my rare day off…!?”

“I’m telling you—why is it such a pain? If it’s the same knight order, no matter where she joins, there shouldn’t be much of a difference…”

“Oh, but there is.”

To go back a bit, when Astraea, the second prince of the kingdom, requested to be assigned to the Holy Vessel Knights, it apparently caused quite a controversy at the Officers’ Academy.

Because the Holy Vessel Knights’ missions took place on the vast ocean where anything could happen, they were considered quite harsh even among the Holy Knight Orders—excluding ours, of course. The academy and the knight orders were at their wits’ end, wondering who would take responsibility if the second prince were to get injured. In the end, Astraea, fed up with the never-ending deadlock, hauled out a royal decree from the King himself to finally settle the matter.

Back then, things worked out because the King intervened.

However, no matter how high-ranking a Ducal house was, they couldn’t take such extrajudicial measures.

In short—if this girl named Rosalind came to our order, which was far more dangerous than the Holy Vessel Knights, and if something were to happen to her…

“Send the only daughter of a Ducal house into a muddy battlefield to fight savage orcs, and imagine if word gets out that she suffered even a single scratch. There’s a high probability the Ducal house would side with the Holy Boot Knights, and our order would face a crisis of total destruction…!”

“…No way, why would that put you in a pinch? They’re a knight, so getting injured is normal, right?”

Well, normally, yes. But nobles weren’t exactly ‘normal.’

For example, let’s say this Rosalind-chan got hurt while fighting an orc. At the Bauberg house, something like this would happen:

‘Papa! I got hurt during a mission! I don’t want to be a knight anymore!’

‘What!? Entrusting my precious beloved daughter with a mission that caused her injury before she could even be wed!? I-I won’t forgive this… I’ll make sure those pig-hunting commoners pay for this!!’

As a result, the reputation of the Pig-Hunt Knights would sour, and the folks in the Council—who liked to think they moved the world from behind their desks—would tighten the budget strings. Thus, the Pig-Hunt Knights would become unable to handle the orcs and meet their end.

If the Royal Foreign Hazardous Species Countermeasures Knights disappeared, the other Holy Knight Orders would have to deal with the orcs, but since I didn’t think they could handle it properly, it would be an ‘Orc Victory’ ending. And Commander Luger, who would likely be blamed, would probably flee the country with his subordinates to escape execution.

“…You’re joking, right? This is just a knight order joke to scare the newcomer?”

“Well, yeah. The probability of it getting that bad is only about twenty percent.”

“Twenty percent!? Is this place the turning point for the kingdom’s collapse right now!?”

“Give me a break… to think Rosalind’s choice leads to a scenario of national collapse with a one-in-five chance…”

The instructor and I both buried our heads in our hands and slumped over the desk at the same time. Amal, frantic over the sudden calamity that had dropped into her lap, tripped over the desk leg and cried out “Gueh!” as she tumbled. What are you even doing? Being an idiot and a klutz is a bad combination for the knight order. Any property damage caused by carelessness during a mission comes out of your own pocket.

Furthermore, even if it didn’t get that extreme, there was a high possibility our order would be crushed. Even if the girl herself didn’t mind, the Bauberg family wasn’t soft enough to stay silent after their daughter was “damaged” before marriage.

Nobles weren’t yakuza, but if they were looked down upon or taken lightly, it was the end for them.

Therefore, it was the way of the high nobility to respond with more than double the retribution if they were slighted.

And the blame wouldn’t go to the orcs, but to the knight order itself for placing Rosalind in a position where she could get hurt. If things went south, it could even splash back onto Instructor Rosso and lead to his expulsion from the Officers’ Academy. That was why the instructor was panicking too.

“Even the great Commander Luger wouldn’t be able to do anything if the head of the Bauberg family turned into an enemy.”

“True. That man is quite the old fox, but against a power player of the Duke class, neither appeasement nor seduction would work… Ah, this is seriously bad.”

Even if the Duke remained silent, Cushu of the Holy Boot Knights would surely jump at the chance to denounce the Pig-Hunt Knights.

Our order’s backing was weak. The only reason we barely maintained our current position was that we were useful and didn’t cause scandals. The latter was especially vital. If we failed there, it was over for us. At worst, we might end up being treated like sword slaves used solely for orc extermination.

“In that sense, this student Rosalind is a magnificent bomb, regardless of her own intentions. I don’t know if that ‘Fox’ realizes it, but we really should make her give up on coming to our order.”

If she got hurt, the order would be destroyed. Conversely, if we kept her away from battle and she complained about the order at home, their reputation would worsen and the order would be destroyed. Following the Astraea Bomb, we now had the second bomb: the Rosalind Bomb. It was a shame it was for self-destruction. I’d prefer it if she exploded over at the Holy Boot Knights before coming to us.

“So, will you take this job? She’s so fired up that she said, ‘If you send me to another order, I’ll cause a scandal just so I can go to the Pig-Hunt Knights’… but I’ll be in trouble if she doesn’t give up voluntarily.”

“That’s good to hear. Let’s go with the plan where she messes up at the Holy Boot Knights and just quits being a knight altogether!”

“Hey, that’s the route where the fire only spreads to me as her instructor! You really have no sense of gratitude toward me, do you!?”

I thought about saying, “I have a sense of ‘grudge’ instead,” but decided against it since it was a petty joke.

And so, the interests of Instructor Rosso and I were aligned.

“……”

While leaving behind the heart of Amal, who watched the two of us with a complicated expression.

Rosalind Kreuz von Bauberg’s elegant holidays were largely composed of two things: training and reading.

She possessed rare sword manuals obtained through her family’s connections, grimoires, books about monsters, and pure literature—some were relevant to her future, others were not. She simply loved reading. Sometimes she even bought picture books.

Because her education had been strict when she was a child, she hadn’t been given much time for reading, but the knight order’s training was easier than the Bauberg family’s education since she had days off. Thus, she could spend time in a space where the only sound was the quiet rustle of turning pages.

Lately, however, there were more times when Rosalind couldn’t focus on her reading.

Rosalind, who had been reading a book on foreign local history that day as well, let out a sigh, tucked a bookmark between the pages, and snapped the book shut. She had only managed to read a dozen pages, but she simply couldn’t concentrate on the content.

The reason was the image of a certain man burned into the back of her mind, refusing to leave.

“Knight Varna. How can I get under his command as quickly and surely as possible…?”

In this glorious kingdom, he was the young knight who had openly defeated that obnoxious Cushu and stood resplendent as the strongest in the realm. Ever since she had witnessed his battle, Rosalind’s heart had not known a moment’s peace.

Originally, Rosalind had aimed to become a knight because she wanted to be a swordsman. There was no sense of duty or anything else; that was her only reason. Though she had mastered various academic disciplines and martial arts, a knight order represented a “privilege to inherit traditional swordsmanship.” She had joined simply because she wanted to learn those techniques.

She approached everything with earnestness, mastering every secret technique except for the final one, and rose to the top of her class in no time. Those around her treated her well. People said her future would lie with either the Holy Boot Knights or the Holy Shield Knights. Amidst all that, a certain feeling had taken root in Rosalind’s heart.

—An irritation akin to sexual frustration, wondering if this was all there was to being a knight.

Unfortunately, Rosalind possessed a natural genius and was more talented than her older brothers and sisters.

Therefore, as long as she studied anything seriously, she could stand at the top.

Conversely, she couldn’t find it in herself to become truly obsessed or devoted to anything.

She was already growing tired of aiming to be a knight and considered quitting altogether—all while responding with a smiling persona to those around her who praised her, saying, “I’m sure you’ll become a great knight.”

However, the day came when she was forced to realize that such thoughts were mere arrogance.

“That day, the Imperial Match I happened to see on a whim set my soul ablaze…!”

It had been a long time since Rosalind had bothered to watch an Imperial Match, which she usually dismissed as a fixed race where the somewhat haughty Cushu would inevitably win. Hearing rumors that Cushu had suffered an upset defeat the previous year, she had gone with no greater expectation than the thought that she might see a match slightly different from the old days.

—She felt like cursing her past self for not watching the match the year before.

Knight Varna’s combat was on a different dimension of strength, even compared to the instructors.

There was zero waste in his movements; everything from his subtle gestures to his footwork was refined and perfected as a tactic to defeat the opponent. His sword speed and reaction time alone were staggering, and his ability to apply secret techniques was sophisticated enough to make one marvel. To top it off, he possessed the unbelievable fundamental strength to crush an Ultimate Secret Technique with an Ultimate Secret Technique he hadn’t even fully reached yet.

She didn’t feel like she could reach that realm at all, even if her current self piled on a bit of effort.

To Rosalind, he seemed like a piece of art born solely for the purpose of wielding a sword.

A power achieved by devoting oneself to that path, sacrificing everything to it, and finally crossing the line.

He was a masterpiece—the result of discarding impurities, casting away unnecessary thoughts of honor or the future, and continuing to hone one’s fighting spirit until it reached 100% purity.

Rosalind felt a throbbing in her chest she had never experienced before.

Witnessing a height that far surpassed the peak she thought was “the limit,” she truly desired, from the bottom of her heart, to climb there for the first time. She wanted to be recognized by the man named Varna who stood at that distant summit.

Simply put, she admired him.

With a strength that she couldn’t help.

Rosalind had immediately begun moving to study under Varna, but there were hurdles beyond her expectations. To enter a knight order that was treated with such unwarranted low regard, her own status was simply too pure and too high.

She had threatened the instructor, but as expected, it might be impossible for him to squeeze her into the Royal Foreign Hazardous Species Countermeasures Knights given his position. She had mentioned the plan of causing a scandal to switch orders, but if she actually did that, there was a high probability her father or mother would be furious and force her to quit the knighthood entirely.

Her mother had made a rather complicated face the moment she said she wanted to enter the Officers’ Academy.

Even now, her mother would grumble about her fiancé and such every time they met.

Rosalind felt a bit exasperated, wondering if sending three children off into political marriages wasn’t enough.

“It would be best if I could persuade Father, but I simply lack the connections and the leverage. If only… for example, if there were a renowned knight who could guarantee that I have extraordinary talent as a knight, or someone who could persuade him so that the Ducal house could become a sponsor for the Royal Foreign Hazardous Species Countermeasures Knights…”

Sighing self-deprecatingly at the thought that she wouldn’t find such a convenient person, Rosalind stood up to head out for sword training to change her mood—and the sound of a knock echoed at her room door.

“…? I wonder who it is at this hour. I shouldn’t have an appointment to meet anyone. Could it be the instructor…?”

—Later, she would say this:

—If I had known it was our first meeting, I wouldn’t have acted so unseemly… I’ll resent you for the rest of my life, Instructor.

“Yes, who is—wha?”

“Hello there. I’m Knight Varna, from the Skirmish Squad of the Royal Foreign Hazardous Species Countermeasures Knights.”

Standing beyond the opened door was the very person she had wanted to meet so desperately. It was Knight Varna.

Why was he here? How much she had wanted to see him? At that moment, a multitude of questions, surprise, and joy swirled within Rosalind, but amidst all that, only one fact surfaced in her mind.

The first thing Rosalind had ever said to the person she admired was, “Wha?”

Rosalind silently closed the door to her room and collapsed to the floor, clutching her head. Her face was so red with shame it looked ready to explode, and a pathetic voice that lacked even a shred of elegance leaked from her throat.

“Wait, please wait!! Time!! Please let me turn back time by ten, no, fifteen seconds and start over!!”

‘Hello? Uh, I don’t really get it, but let’s just say I didn’t see anything and didn’t say anything. Want a retake?’

“I do!! I do, so please wait just a moment!!”

She had thought about many things, such as what kind of greeting to give when she met the strongest knight she had longed for, but the resulting word was “Wha?” To repeat, it was “Wha?” It contained no pride, no grace, no strength, and no beauty. It was an incredibly draining… at least for her, it was the moment a lifelong shame was born.