Chapter 93 - At Dusk

Chapter 93 - At Dusk

Summer is a truly merciless season.

Ernest—and every cadet of the Royal Military Academy—would never forget that fact.

"What are you doing?! Move it, move it!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Run! Run!"

"Aaaargh!"

After the spring field training, the academy's curriculum had changed drastically.

The instructors decided to train the cadets' stamina by making them run—while carrying their full gear and even a real Balt rifle through the forest. It was grueling beyond words.

It was hard to believe that just a year ago, they had spent their breaks sipping tea and chatting.

Now, the moment break time hit, everyone collapsed onto the ground like panting dogs, dignity be damned.

"I-I think I'm gonna die…"

"You'll live. That's not enough to kill you."

"Instructor… I'm seriously dying here…"

"You're not dying."

Some cadets had never even run before entering the academy.

They had been taught to walk with elegance and poise to maintain nobility and grace.

One such example was Wilfried Ravid, the fourth son of Duke Ravid.

"Ravid! Get up! You can walk if you must, but get on your feet!"

"Huff! Huff! Gasp!"

Wilfried always gave his best, but he had been raised too gently and had grown slowly, making it hard for him to keep up with the training.

As more cadets began to fall behind, the instructors convened to find a solution.

"We need to give them extra time to build up their physical strength."

The result: a list of cadets selected for additional stamina training was posted.

Everyone tensed.

Being on that list meant you were officially deemed unfit—at least physically.

Though no numeric grades were given, the cadets would now be judged as fit or unfit.

Surprisingly, there was little protest.

The cadets had learned the hard way during the spring march and camp that stamina was vital.

Officers might usually ride in vehicles or on horseback, but that wasn't always possible.

A time would come when they would have to march on their own two feet.

"Eat up."

"Yeah, you need to eat a lot more."

"I—I can't eat anymore…"

"Yes, you can. Come on."

The second-year cadets, bound by deep camaraderie, did their best to help their struggling comrades.

Thankfully, the instructors were attentive and supportive.

All the cadets had to do was help those like Wilfried, who struggled to eat, get more food down.

Having been trained to eat slowly and gracefully without opening his mouth wide, Wilfried found it agonizing to eat quickly just to keep up.

'If only I were taller…!'

Frustrated and indignant, Wilfried felt a burning sense of vengeance—even if there was no specific target for it.

Ernest and Ferdinand were partly to blame.

With their unmatched stamina, they made Wilfried constantly feel inferior.

But as if responding to Wilfried's earnest desire, his body suddenly started growing rapidly as autumn approached.

However, it wasn't as pleasant as he imagined.

"It'll hurt, but there's nothing you can do. At least the pain means you're growing. That's something to be thankful for, right?"

"…Yes."

Wilfried suffered growing pains every night.

His body couldn't adjust to the sudden growth spurt, and training became even more difficult.

"Why don't you two ever get growing pains or health issues?"

One day, overwhelmed with envy, he snapped at Ernest and Ferdinand.

He wasn't alone—everyone gave the two of them a jealous glare.

"Well…"

Ernest, who had a heart condition and needed lifelong medication, gave a slightly awkward smile and mumbled evasively.

"I was just born this way."

Ferdinand, on the other hand, responded flatly, without a hint of emotion.

Even as a first-year, Ferdinand had already rivaled the upperclassmen in size.

He was now nearly as tall as the instructors, and there seemed to be no end to his growth.

"There's no need to be so bitter, Wilfried. At least you're handsome."

"Yeah… you're handsome…"

Cadets who lacked height, strength, or good looks could only console themselves with Wilfried's radiant beauty.

Just like Ferdinand's ever-increasing size, Wilfried was shedding the boyish look and growing into a striking young man.

And now, his height was catching up fast.

"Life is unfair."

"And it's rich coming from a noble. You're bursting at the seams. Be careful or you'll explode."

"You're a noble too, Robert."

"Which is why I'm not complaining."

"Damn. True."

Robert was the definition of average—average height, average stamina, average looks, and probably average grades too.

"Ernest will be top of the class again this year, right?"

"Maybe. Military science weighs heavily, but we've learned a lot of new subjects in our second year. Hartmann might take the top spot."

None of the second-years had any serious ambitions of taking the top or second spot.

Everyone knew it would be between Ernest and Ferdinand.

What really interested them was who would come out on top between the two.

Ernest continued to dominate military science, and he excelled in other subjects too. The relentless, thorough education from Haires was clearly paying off.

But Ferdinand wasn't lagging behind either.

Diligent, honest, persistent, and humble—he had entered the academy already among the best, and now he was devouring every possible lesson in his pursuit of surpassing Ernest.

"Ferdinand, instead of studying so much, why don't you write a poem for your fiancée or something?"

"…Ernest. I'm warning you—say that to anyone else, and I won't let it slide."

Even Ernest, who had once declared he'd be top of the class all four years, started getting nervous and subtly tried to shake Ferdinand's focus.

Of course, he still studied hard himself.

"If you ask me, you'll be top again this year anyway. Maybe take it a bit easy?"

"This laziness is why you always mess up and fall behind, Robert. If you'd been serious, you'd be much better off now."

"Y-You're not wrong…"

Ernest was dead serious about being the top student four years in a row. So when Robert made laid-back comments, he responded sternly.

"Marie, you've grown so much. Not just in height but in academics too."

"Mm."

"That means you're ready for more advanced study."

"…."

Marie became the next victim.

She had started growing in height this year and studied so diligently that she greatly pleased the demanding and merciless Ernest Krieger.

As a result, she found herself facing a new level of intellectual torment.

Ernest, cursed with genius and lacking empathy, was certain Marie would be thrilled to learn new things.

He simply assumed everyone else enjoyed studying as much as he did.

Robert was an exception—he constantly and shamelessly preached the virtue of laziness and living a high-quality life. Ernest had carefully classified him as a deviant in the category of "abnormally lazy people."

Thanks to Ernest's persistence, Marie had reached a level of education comparable to that of wealthy commoners her age by winter.

"Krieger takes top spot again."

"Hoo…"

And Ernest maintained his position at the top of the class.

This time, Ferdinand had come incredibly close, enough that Ernest had to be genuinely concerned.

If he hadn't improved his military science score again, he might have lost the top spot.

"Next year, I'll surpass you."

"Next year, the gap will widen again."

Even after the grade announcements, the two continued their psychological battle.

But that didn't last long—soon it was time for the year-end party.

"You're still doing this?"

"The Black Clothes Alliance stands strong."

"Yes. Unlike you trend-chasers, we won't be swept away."

Robert and Wilfried had established the new tradition of class colors for each grade. Yet Ernest and Ferdinand stubbornly clung to their "Black Clothes Alliance."

Ernest had altered the outfit his father gave him last year and wore it again.

Realizing this would be the last time he could wear it made him a little melancholy.

He was growing fast, and even his voice had deepened after puberty.

"Good heavens. The party's going to go wild after this."

"I can't believe Wilfried and I are the same species…"

But Wilfried was on a different level.

He had grown so rapidly that he needed last-minute alterations just before the party.

No one doubted that he would be the star of the event—even more than any high-ranking noble or even Headmaster Armin Mannheim himself.

"If this world were a novel, Wilfried would be the protagonist…"

"Please don't say that kind of thing."

With a bashful smile, Wilfried—now graced with a voice like a tranquil lake—left everyone speechless.

Or maybe not in awe, but in despair.

It was hard to share the same sky with someone so flawless.

Even the most handsome person would look plain beside Wilfried. That went for his famously attractive brothers too.

But Robert saw Wilfried's growth from a different angle.

"By next spring, you'll be taller and stronger than me, so I have to make fun of you now."

"Robert, you're insane."

"I'm serious. This is my last chance to tease you. I'm giving it my all."

Robert mocked Wilfried with every ounce of energy he had. Everyone called him mad, but they couldn't help admiring his dedication.

"Yeah, Robert, enjoy it while you can. This is your last moment. Next year, I'll bury you in the mock combat drills."

"Oh, I'm sure you will. Next year, that is. You get what I'm saying, right?"

"…"

"Exactly! Not now!"

Robert launched another snowball ambush in the courtyard, tackled Wilfried, and buried him in snow.

He'd figure out the consequences later.

The year-end party passed without issue.

So did the rest of the winter.

The cadets returned home, and Marie came back to the Krieger household with Ernest.

"Next year, you'll need new clothes before the party."

Haires, noticing how much his son had grown, looked both proud and faintly wistful.

"I'll be sixteen soon. Already a full-grown adult."

"…Yes."

Haires smiled in return, but something about his smile seemed a little distant.

Winter passed gently and quietly.

Ernest trained under his father, taught Marie, played with friends, and even went hunting in the forest again.

This time, Robert and Jonas joined too.

Luckily, Haires had bought a large tent.

"…Why is Marie Fiders here?"

"It's complicated. Just let it go."

"Oh, um. Okay."

Jonas seemed puzzled but accepted Robert's vague explanation. He treated Haires with respect, did his share of the camp duties, and treated Marie normally—neither dismissively nor disdainfully.

"This time, we have to get a deer. I'm done with rabbits."

"Alright, let's do it."

Fueled by Robert's enthusiasm, Ernest set his sights on deer from the start.

In the end, the hunt failed.

They didn't catch anything in their traps.

But they did see a deer with their own eyes.

"…Oh."

Unfortunately, the first to spot the deer was Robert.

Startled, he let out a sound, and the deer bolted.

"We went through all that for a deer, and you scared it off!"

"Exactly! After all that, and you talk?!"

"Idiot."

"Aaaaaaaaah!"

Ernest and Jonas tackled Robert into the snow and gave him a playful beating.

Even Marie joined in with a grumpy face and kicked Robert's leg once.

The thick clothes and lighthearted intent meant it didn't hurt—but Robert's pride took a hit.

"Sometimes you fail."

Haires didn't say much, but since they'd put so much effort into the deer hunt, he decided to return to Grimman earlier than planned.

Back at the academy, spring arrived again.

The cadets returned.

"Ah, Krieger. Head to the instructors' office immediately."

Ernest was surprised when, right after passing through the main gate, a fourth-year training assistant ordered him to the instructors' office.

"Starting now, you're a training assistant."

"…Excuse me?"

"You heard me. From this moment on, you're a proud training assistant of the Royal Military Academy."

"B-But I thought assistants were volunteers…"

"What do you want me to do, Krieger? I just told you you're a training assistant. Got a problem with that?"

"…."

And so, by order of Captain Thomas Koller, senior instructor of the academy, Ernest Krieger was made a training assistant.

Ernest's will had nothing to do with it. Thomas didn't care about rules or protocols—he simply decided it was so.

Even though he had no choice, Ernest tried to rationalize it.

Being an assistant earned you extra points, allowed you to leave the academy on rare breaks, and even factored into grades. Maybe it was a good way to stay ahead of the ever-persistent Ferdinand…

"…Yes. I'll be a training assistant…"

"Good. You said it yourself."

"And if I said no…"

SLAM!

His final resistance was meaningless.

The moment Ernest reluctantly agreed, Thomas slammed a stamp down on the form and booted him out of the office.

"What's up?"

"…I got made a training assistant."

"What? Really? You're always first or second in class. Do you really need to?"

"…He made me."

"Huh?"

So Ernest became a training assistant.

Many other cadets had also become assistants—though they had all volunteered.

"Look at these guys walking around."

"What, should we run instead?"

"Walk with dignity. With dignity!"

"You worry about your own dignity."

"A regular cadet talking back to a discipline assistant?"

"This is nuts."

While discipline assistants were already strutting around the dorms enjoying their minor power, training assistants had no immediate duties until the drills began.

Still, they weren't idle.

Training assistants had to help instructors with other class years and thus missed some of their own lectures.

Before taking on the role, they underwent intensive instruction from the instructors—on both course content and their responsibilities as assistants.

Eventually, even their free time would be spent receiving extra training.

But for all the hardship, the benefits were substantial.

They'd gain experience not only academically but also in management—a rare opportunity ordinary cadets never had.

"Hey, rough day?"

"Krieger, it feels like it's been forever—even though we saw you yesterday."

"Right…"

Ernest had been so busy he barely had time to greet his friends properly.

"Ferdinand. Why didn't you become a training assistant?"

"There was no need…"

"Why not? Why didn't you?"

"…"

Ernest took out his frustration on Ferdinand, who wisely avoided his gaze.

"Hehe. While you're off doing extra lessons during free time, I'll have the room to myself."

"Happy?"

"Of course!"

"Jerk."

"Sorry, couldn't hear that. I don't recognize the voice of training assistants."

Robert did nothing and took great delight in teasing Ernest.

Only top cadets became assistants.

It was a great honor.

But Robert didn't care and poured all his energy into mocking Ernest.

"Wilfried as a discipline assistant… makes him seem even cooler."

"Right? It's weird. Being an assistant doesn't change anything, but still…"

"Could you not say stuff like that? It's stressful."

Wilfried had also become a discipline assistant.

With top grades again last year, he applied simply to push his academic standing higher.

Still, everything he did was a major event now.

"My sister says she's coming to the Founding Day party to see you."

"My cousins too…"

"…"

Wilfried had grown taller and broader over the winter, leaving boyhood behind and becoming a strong young man.

After attending various social events throughout winter, he had become quite the celebrity.

Countless young women had lined up at parties just for a chance to talk to him.

Wilfried now wielded unexpected influence—but he hated it.

All this attention just because of his looks?

Women were ready to drop thousands, maybe tens of thousands of Decks just to speak with him.

Once, he might've been eager to seize the opportunity.

But now… he wasn't so sure.

He no longer cared about joining the Capital Guard or getting a prestigious post.

More than anything, he wanted to be assigned to the same unit as his friends—even if it meant losing his family's support and starting from the bottom as a second lieutenant.

"You're all third-years now. Graduation will come fast. Think carefully about where you want to go after. I can't promise you'll get what you want, but I'll consider it."

After hearing this from the training officer, Wilfried's thoughts grew heavier.

"You don't have to think about it, huh, Ernest?"

"Yeah. I'm going to become a Beowatcher."

"No, you should join Neumann's 5th Cavalry Regiment. He's dying to have you."

"I said I'm going to be a Beowatcher."

"Just because you want it doesn't mean it'll happen."

Ernest said he would be a Beowatcher, but he too was uncertain.

Joining Sebastian in the 5th Cavalry sounded good.

So did going to the same unit as his friends.

The Capital Guard also made sense—it was in Grimman, where the Kriegers lived.

"What about you, Ferdinand?"

Ernest asked, and Ferdinand gave the obvious answer.

"I'll be going to the 5th Division, 13th Regiment."

Not want to, but will.

That was because Heinz had reluctantly promised to place him there.

With his background as the grandson of Brigadier General Heinz Hartmann, Chief of Staff of the 2nd Corps, and top student in the academy, Ferdinand's appointment wasn't to some safe rear post—but to the 13th Regiment of the 5th Division, the first division of the 2nd Corps.

No one would dare call it favoritism.

He deserved applause, not suspicion.

"What about you, Robert?"

"I'm going to stay as close to Grimman as possible, buy a hereditary title, and retire."

"You think your dad will let you?"

"If I've already got the title, what's he going to do? If I retire, too late to stop me."

"Ah yes—easier to ask forgiveness than permission. But you'll eventually learn: if you get permission, you don't have to ask forgiveness."

Robert planned to retire as a second lieutenant, no matter what his father, Oliver Jimman, said.

He intended to buy a title and settle down nearby.

Time didn't wait for Ernest's indecision. Soon, the graduation and entrance ceremonies arrived.

Ernest, as he once saw during his own entrance ceremony, now wore the rank insignia of a soldier and helped with the event.

During graduation, he greeted the families; during entrance, he welcomed the new cadets.

Third-years were soldiers; fourth-years, sergeants.

Only assistants wore real rank insignia before graduating.

Ernest had hoped he might see Emperor Walter Ulrich Mihahil this time.

But Walter was absent from both ceremonies. Not even the Beowatchers made an appearance.

It seemed true that Walter had ceased all public activity.

Rumors that something had happened to the aging emperor were gaining weight.

But for the cadets, the weight of third year gave them no time to care.

The next mock combat exercises had been announced, and practice was already underway.

And Ernest was now an assistant.

There was no time to think about emperors.

There was only one thing to do:

Train.