Chapter 9

It is preferable for a knight to possess a calmness backed by intellect, alongside their bravery.

Strength that relies solely on charging in and striking down an enemy is merely brute force; that is different from human or organizational strength. At times fierce, at times strategic—and above all, a knight does not fight without pride. Therein lies the definitive difference in status between a knight and a mere mercenary soldier.

A knight is only truly a knight when they are refined.

Being a commoner, the idiot that I was, I studied quite hard before challenging the exam. However, since the majority of the written questions covered material I had never even heard of, I got through it by using “eeny, meeny, miny, moe”—a classic move for a fool.

Out of the five commoner slots that year, I was likely the man least capable of studying. To begin with, the academic ability required to enter the knighthood boasts a difficulty on par with that of a semi-national official. The fact that one must challenge an exam of that caliber at the mere age of fifteen—the eligible age for officers—is absurd in itself.

To become capable of solving problems of such difficulty, one must study at highly advanced educational institutions from early childhood; in this regard, the financial power of one’s parents says it all. While it is possible to challenge the exam at an older age, that path requires three years of time before appointment and enough money to buy a house in the Royal Capital, making it impossible for a commoner. No matter how many times I look back on it, the fact that I passed was a miracle.

However, having passed by a miracle, I naturally struggled with my studies. After all, the officers’ academy boasts a murderous, overcrowded schedule designed to hammer an ordinary person into a knight in just a single year. Days off are limited to Sundays and national holidays, with no vacation periods. Sick days or bereavement leave must be made up with classes carved out of one’s rest. It is a boarding school system, bound tight by strict regulations. Just between us, three enrollees from the privileged class in my year couldn’t withstand this lifestyle and deserted; they had to be replaced by substitutes.

In the midst of all that, the two best friends I met would often carve out their precious little free time to teach me. Come to think of it, whenever things were painful, I was always with them. I taught them the sword, and in exchange, they taught me my studies; I guided them through the castle town on our occasional days off, and they taught me dining etiquette and manners. By the time we graduated, the bookshelf of my brain was filled with things I had received from those two.

However, what I received also included many unforgettable, turbulent memories. Or rather, since both of them were different types of “natural airheads,” I feel like we’re even, considering how often I was swept up in the storms they caused. Though even those hardships somehow deepened our bonds in the end.

Furthermore, it can’t be denied that the two of them—total pampered rich kids of the privileged class—were slightly tainted by my worldly knowledge…

“Mmm~~♪ The Lampredotto stall in front of the clock tower really is the best, isn’t it~~♪ Munch, munch… Haah, pure bliss~~…”

“You still eat a lot, as usual… Just how many did you buy? Don’t blame me if you get fat.”

“I don’t get fat~♪ Even if I did, it would be happy-fat, so it’s fine~♪”

The sight of a young lady from a good family pecking at commoner street food with such genuine happiness caused the surroundings to buzz a bit. The person in question, however, didn’t care at all and was simply savoring her moment of ecstasy. There was also a hint of bloodlust directed at me—the “enviable jerk” accompanying such a transcendent beauty—but I ignored it as usual.

In the brief moment I looked away, the table where Sedona and I sat had become overcrowded with food bought from the stalls. This Kingdom’s street food scene, which had become a fiercely competitive area due to the entry of overseas influences, supposedly boasted one of the world’s richest varieties. Spread out before her was a scene like a World B-Grade Gourmet Grand Prix: tripe stew (Lampredotto), kushikatsu, Southeast-style fried noodles (Pad Thai), hot dogs, and pickled herring sandwiches.

Sedona was a girl who simply loved street food to death.

The origin of this was two years ago. Noticing my best friends—who had almost never been to the castle town—looking at the stalls with curiosity, I decided to buy them some tripe stew (Lampredotto), which was trendy at the time.

‘Here, how is it? The taste of the commoner’s ally—cheap and ready to eat?’

‘…What is this!? This indescribable stimulation and the extremely simple deliciousness found within its cheapness!? To think it would shake the heart of someone like me, who has never tasted anything but court cuisine and offerings since the day I was born… the street stall is a terrifying thing…’

‘…’

‘…Huh, Sedona? Was it not to your taste?’

‘Hm, is that so? I thought the taste was acceptable, but perhaps it doesn’t suit her family’s preferences—’

Then, Sedona, looking as if she hadn’t heard our reaction, began to walk unsteadily before stopping dead in front of a stall—and abruptly pulled a wad of cash from her pocket.

‘Excuse me, Mr. Stall-keeper, I’ll buy all the Lampredotto you have at this stall. No, I’ll buy the stall itself along with you! So let’s spread more… more of this revolutionary and innovative taste of civilization’s dawn—born like a single gem from the torrent of this era to light up the future—to this world!!’

‘Whaaaat?!’

…That scent unique to street food, the stimulation produced by coarse seasonings of a different genre than high-end cuisine, and within that, the simple deliciousness that continued to be loved by the people. The sheltered young lady had become completely captivated by the unknown stimulation of street food, an arrival from a different dimension.

The other friend liked it too, but Sedona’s obsession was bordering on abnormal. Her love for stalls expanded with such tremendous momentum that she memorized the locations of every single stall in the country. Now, she was a first-class street food gourmet who had set the world of B-grade foodies ablaze by publishing a gourmet book titled “Stalls of the Royal Capital (Kingdom Era 403 Edition)” under a pen name.

There was no particular reason for it, but I felt like I had somehow led her down a bad path.

“Well, as long as she’s happy, I guess it’s fine…?”

“This crispy texture of the kushikatsu breading, the sensation of the pork fibers tearing, and the high-sweetness fat seeping out from the marbled bits… and the thick, sweet-and-spicy sesame sauce playing an exquisite harmony with them… Hahhh…♪”

“You’ve got sauce on your mouth, you know?”

“The sauce and base on my face are proof of my happiness! It’s proper etiquette to wipe them away only after you’ve finished eating…!”

“Don’t go making up ‘connoisseur’ logic just to match your mood. Here, face me.”

For a young lady of a noble house, a dining faux pas like “getting your face incredibly messy” was something that could be forgiven in this specific place. That atmosphere was likely part of why she loved it here.

As I thought about that while forcibly wiping her stained mouth with a napkin, she suddenly became as obedient as a kitten being groomed by its parent. It seemed she didn’t entirely mind the treatment.

Damn, she’s cute. If her father wasn’t the kind of overprotective idiot who’d say, “Lay a finger on my daughter and you’ll be fish food by tomorrow,” I would have seriously considered marriage.

‘Then again, maybe we’re only able to be friends because it’s a relationship where I specifically *can’t* lay a finger on her…’

I wondered if the day would ever come when Sedona would outgrow this clingy, affectionate side she only showed to this particular friend. Either way, for someone like me who has no desire for marriage—and doesn’t even know at what point in life one is supposed to get married—this was a welcome arrangement. If only to avoid becoming a second version of Vice Commander Rony.

Just then, a high-pitched, adorable “Meow” echoed from by my feet, and I stopped my hand as it reached for a piece of the fish and chips I’d been snacking on.

“A cat…?”

“Meow.”

A ginger-and-white cat was standing there. Its coat looked healthy, but it didn’t have a collar. It was likely a stray that had grown accustomed to people. Rubbing against my legs, it seemed to be begging for food with a sweet voice.

Unfortunately, street food is generally far too high in salt and unsuitable for a cat’s diet. For the cat’s sake, it was better not to give it anything.

“Oh, that little one started living around here recently.”

“Sedona, you know this cat?”

“I’m a member of the ‘Holy Shield Knights’ whose livelihood is patrolling the Royal Capital, you know? I know pretty much everything about this town.”

As she spoke, Sedona skillfully peeled the batter off a piece of fish, tore off a small morsel, and tossed it a short distance from the table. The moment the cat saw it, it dashed toward the food.

It seemed I was already irrelevant to the cat. I felt a tiny bit lonely.

“Since the stall area grew, it seems the number of stray cats has started to increase. There aren’t many right here, but in the back alleys, there are quite a few scavenging for illegally dumped leftovers or scraps. Because of that, the cat population exploded, and so did the… accidents they leave behind. The Royal Capital Cleaning Squad is having a rough time.”

“Is that so? Is the city’s sanitation being maintained properly?”

“For now, yes. But since the amount of food increased, sightings of rats have started to go up too…”

“I see, that’s bad. There’s too much food available, so the cats have stopped actively hunting the rats.”

Originally, cats were animals kept for the purpose of preventing rats and pests from entering homes. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that, thanks to these cats, the town had prevented the prosperity of rats that carry infectious diseases. To drive away one creature, you use another to counter it. It’s a simple logic.

However, that logic collapses when the newly introduced creature learns an easier way to get food. In short, cats might decide that getting handouts from humans is easier than catching rats, leading them to ignore the rodents entirely. Furthermore, human leftovers are a delicious source of nutrition for omnivorous rats as well. What awaits is a negative spiral where the rat population grows while the cats refuse to do their jobs.

“If we reduced the leftovers and banned feeding the strays, the cats would go back to hunting rats. That would be ideal, but…”

“Meow.”

“…It’s begging again.”

“It’s learned that if it begs, someone will give it food.”

Cats have adorable looks. If one of these things was scurrying around your feet and begging, anyone would want to feed it. If you told people not to, some would likely fly into a rage, asking, “Then what are these cats supposed to eat?” Wild creatures are sturdier than humans think; if they realize they can’t get food in one spot, they’ll simply travel to where the food is on their own.

“It’ll be too late once they increase so much it becomes a visible problem. Just like the orcs.”

“Varna-kun…”

The orcs had multiplied and spread across the entire country while the Kingdom sat on its hands. These cats, too, might carry the risk of infectious diseases later on if nothing is done. Ah, those hateful orcs. While Nonoka-san’s research has produced a system to turn orc carcasses into fertilizer for the land, I still wish there were better incentives for hunting them. Even if you hunt a lot of them, the performance bonus only increases by a pittance.

“…By the way, Sedona, did you know? In some cultures overseas, they actually eat cats. Apparently, there are even ‘cat stalls.’”

“Cat stalls… stalls… Hah! No, not me!! I can’t be so indiscriminate… but if cows and chickens are okay, then cats… cats… stalls… Kitty~ come here, I’ll give you something delicious~…!”

“Chef Tamae taught me how to prepare them before. Leave the rest to me once we catch it…!”

“Fgyah!?”

At that moment, the eyes of both Sedona and I were laid bare with bottomless human desire. Naturally, or perhaps inevitably, the cat fled as if its life depended on it.

—According to stories I heard later, from that day on, the cats who had grown terrified of Sedona vanished from the stall district all at once, bringing the cat problem to a temporary end. Since then, it’s said she is whispered to be the “Guardian Deity of the Stalls”—or perhaps she isn’t.