Chapter 4 - The True Warrior (3)
After Ernest adapted to the harsh training, a small daily routine developed in House Krieger, which had only two members.
"Do you see that person over there?"
"Who?"
"The man wearing a black jacket."
"There are more than ten men wearing black jackets."
"Pick the one who stands out the most."
"Hmmm..."
Ernest pressed closely against the window, carefully observing the street.
"That person wearing the black hat?"
"There are actually three people wearing black jackets and black hats."
"The one limping on his left leg."
"Good. Tell me about him."
"He's tall."
"Don't mention things anyone could notice."
"He must have been a soldier."
"Why do you think that?"
"...Just, something about him feels that way..."
"Ernest, there's no such thing as just.'"
Haires lowered his stance beside his son by the window and spoke in a low voice about the man who had disappeared from their sight.
"Judging by the way he walks, it looks like he injured his left knee. Since he's not using crutches, it must be fully healed by now. Seeing the way his posture and physique have changed, the injury must have happened quite some time ago. His right sleeve is more worn out, and I noticed he's carrying something in the left chest area, which means he's right-handed. His left hand doesn't move much near his waist, but his right hand moves significantly more. Gunpowder pistols aren't very practical in battle, and the Balt pistol is meant for officers. Even so, it's usually worn so it can be drawn easily with the dominant hand. For a right-hander, that would be on the right waist or left chest. That man is probably very accustomed to carrying a knife on his left waist. Did you see how he pulled his chin tight, hiding his eyes under the brim of his hat and glanced around? He was stubbornly alert to his surroundings. He's likely someone who once roamed battlefields carrying a knife before the Balt guns were issued, or at least trained to do so. Not everyone could handle such a difficult weapon like a knife, so he might have been a knight. And he likely actually fought in a war."
Haires possessed a terrifyingly sharp eye that could grasp things far beyond what Ernest could even imagine in a very short time.
He gave advice to his still young and inexperienced son.
"You weren't wrong to guess he's a soldier. But if your guess ends there as just a simple assumption, it holds no value. Look for clues, and reason it out."
"Intuition can sometimes be a great help, but relying on it without training is foolish."
Haires said this with even greater emphasis than when he taught other important lessons, gripping Ernest's shoulder so tightly that the boy winced in discomfort.
"Don't stop thinking. Constantly doubt, analyze, understand, and infer. Answers aren't given, they are reached."
After saying this, Haires pointed to another passerby and encouraged Ernest to deduce things about him.
Ernest treated this as a game.
Standing side by side with his father by the window, quietly talking while watching people pass by was genuinely enjoyable.
Through these moments, Ernest absorbed a vast amount of information without even realizing it.
Haires patiently taught his son about soldiers, fallen nobles, adulterers, thieves, murderers, and more.
"Why do you know so much about all these things, and how can you figure it out so quickly?" Ernest asked, amazed by his father's ability.
Haires, eyes sparkling at his young son, simply replied in a quiet voice as he had before:
"To survive."
Young Ernest couldn't grasp the pain behind his father's words.
He just thought those words sounded somehow cool to his childish mind.
For a young boy, what's cool is irresistible, so Ernest eagerly absorbed everything his father taught him—his father's way of 'surviving.'
Ernest believed that cadets at the Military Academy all learned things like this.
Ernest grew anxious, thinking that the cadets who went straight from the Juvenile Military Academy to the Imperial Military Academy must have already learned everything.
Maybe the cadets at the Imperial Military Academy were already studying things beyond Ernest's wildest dreams and could execute them perfectly.
Ernest simply did his best to learn what his respected father taught him.
Without fully understanding what he was learning, he welcomed the spring when he turned fourteen, the age when he could enter the Imperial Military Academy.
Haires had been away for several days.
Since he hadn't told his son the details, Ernest had no idea where he had gone or what he was doing.
Still, now that Ernest was fourteen, he was a sturdy boy who wasn't prone to trembling with anxiety just because his father wasn't home.
He spent his time silently focusing on his studies.
When Haires returned, he personally placed the Imperial Military Academy admission letter into his son's hand.
Ernest was finally going to enter the Imperial Military Academy, just as he had eagerly awaited.
***
Ernest stood before the front door, looking back at the house. The sight of the darkened home felt unfamiliar because Ernest had stubbornly always kept candles and oil lamps lit inside.
Buying candles and oil was no big deal.
Ernest had once calculated exactly how much wealth Haires—and more precisely, House Krieger—possessed.
Retiring as a colonel alone meant Haires could live without worrying about money for the rest of his life.
On top of that, he had received seven medals.
House Krieger probably had far more wealth than Ernest had imagined.
Haires stubbornly tried to keep this old house just as it had been before.
As far as Ernest knew, the only thing that had changed in this scene was Haires himself.
In other words, the only real changes were Ernest growing up and the toddler chair he used to sit in while toddling around.
Now fourteen years old, Ernest had grown quickly in height and already stood tall enough to rest his head on Haires' shoulder.
After Ernest grew taller, Haires threw away all the children's chairs and dishes.
He bought new adult furniture for Ernest—the best quality available.
In this old house, there probably wasn't any furniture more expensive than Ernest's bed.
However, the item Haires cherished most was an old chair that hadn't been used even once in the past fourteen years.
Yet, it was always spotless and perfectly maintained without a speck of dust.
Ernest had never even seen his mother, Mia Krieger's face, but just like his father had, he carefully took care of her chair.
"Hmm..."
Ernest stared quietly at the small living room visible beyond the short hallway, focusing on the dining table and the Family Chair placed at its center.
After a moment's thought, he grumbled about the many eyelets on his boots that made putting them on and taking them off a hassle.
Then, he began loosening the laces.
Wearing slippers, Ernest strode over, rearranged his parents' chairs closer together, and carefully placed his own chair directly opposite, centered between them.
He reopened the letter resting on the dining table and read it again, wrinkling his face slightly with embarrassment.
After setting the letter neatly between his parents' chairs, Ernest hurriedly put on his boots.
Despite preparing for the four years he would be away from home, his packed bag was quite minimal.
Standing in front of the entrance hall, Ernest glanced back at the dark, empty house.
Haires had left the house again a few days ago.
Where he had gone and why remained unknown, but in any case, Haires would not attend Ernest's school entrance ceremony.
"...I'll be back," Ernest whispered a farewell that no one could hear, then opened the door and stepped outside.
Click.
After the door closed, the empty house—silent and dark—did not reply to the boy's farewell.
It simply sat and waited for the lights to be turned back on.
***
The capital of the Empire, Grimman, was bustling with people who had come from all over the country to enter the Imperial Military Academy.
Just being admitted to the Empire's top military academy was a great honor for any family. And if one graduated safely, they were immediately commissioned as a second lieutenant. Unless they made some serious mistake, they could easily follow the elite track and become a major.
Once someone reached the rank of major, their path became smooth sailing. By serving as a staff officer and networking well, they could build connections with general officers and easily meet high nobles. It wasn't just personal advancement—they had the potential to elevate their entire family.
"Can we go any faster?" Ernest asked calmly, his mind still preoccupied as he looked at the people heading toward the Imperial Military Academy.
"It's difficult to go any faster than this. As you can see, the roads are a mess," the coachman said bluntly, but without being too rude, glancing sideways at Ernest.
Seeing that this boy was trying to catch a carriage on the street, the coachman figured he probably wasn't from a wealthy family. But the only reason a boy this age would be heading to the Imperial Military Academy now was clear—he was likely going to enroll. Meaning, he was either a noble or had a family member who was a field officer or higher. There was no reason to act arrogantly.
"Do you think we'll arrive on time?" Ernest asked the coachman. Out of habit, he brushed his slightly wavy black hair back, then remembered he had cut it short for entering the academy and sheepishly let his hand fall.
"I'm not sure. It's going to be pretty close."
The coachman knew all too well how congested the streets got at this time and had been dealing with it for years, so he was fully aware that their timing was tight. Yet, he remained unusually calm. After all, he didn't care whether Ernest was late and got his admission canceled or not.
"It would be faster to ride a horse than take the carriage. Otherwise, you could just run," the coachman suggested.
"Is there any way I could borrow a horse?"
"That's a bit..."
The coachman couldn't hide his embarrassment at Ernest's question and glanced around nervously. In truth, if Ernest paid enough, he could easily lend a horse. But then the carriage would be stuck right in the middle of the street. And how could Ernest, alone, take the horse back to him after arriving at the Imperial Military Academy? In such a crowded situation, if the horse got scared and ran off or someone stole it, that would only cause trouble.
For the same reason, Ernest hadn't ridden Drek, the horse he usually rode. If he had gone with Haires, he could have left Drek behind without worry.
"Well, I guess there's no other choice."
Ernest let out a small sigh and took money out of his bag, handing it to the coachman. Since it was less than what they originally agreed on, the coachman wanted to complain. But Ernest had already jumped out of the carriage and was running off some distance ahead. With the streets so crowded that the carriage could barely move, the fare Ernest paid was actually quite reasonable.
"Damn it. That kid's sharp."
The coachman grumbled as he tucked the money into his pocket. At first, he had thought Ernest was just some country bumpkin noble without family or servants, coming to enroll in the Military Academy. But this kid was quick-witted and acted fast. At this rate, he'd have to find another clueless one to meet today's quota.
***
Ernest ran through the crowded streets filled with carriages, horses, and people. He paced himself—not too fast, not too slow—steady and calm. If he rushed because of impatience, he'd tire quickly.
More importantly, when his heartbeat sped up, the headache would start to set in. He didn't want to show up drained and clutching his head in pain at the Imperial Military Academy entrance ceremony.
"Excuse me."
"Whoa! What?"
"Let me through."
Ernest weaved skillfully between people.
Because he was running, people instinctively moved aside, assuming he was a pickpocket and wanting to keep their distance. If he had really been a pickpocket, he'd have slipped in silently and taken their belongings without a sound.
As he kept running, his breathing grew heavy, and his pulse quickened.
Grimacing, he began pressing his hands firmly against his head. The headache was starting to come on.
Honestly, a headache was something he could endure and keep running through. He'd even grown somewhat accustomed to it. But pain wasn't something you could enjoy just because you got used to it, and Ernest realized he was in quite a difficult situation.
He thought about where the problem had started. Then he remembered loosening and tying the laces on those damned boots right before leaving the house, and vowed never to wear boots again except when dressed in his cadet or military uniform.
As he got closer to the Imperial Military Academy, Ernest saw one by one more boys running just like him. They all had pale, ashen faces and were running frantically. Despite the headache, Ernest calmly gauged the time and concluded that, no matter what, he wouldn't be late.
Neighhh!
"Ugh! Please, stay still!"
Though slow, the crowd moving forward in the street abruptly stopped because of the sudden commotion. In the middle of the street, a horse was kicking up a fuss, jumping and thrashing about. Nearby, a boy stood helplessly, unsure of what to do.
Ernest quickly understood the situation. The boy causing the trouble looked to be about the same age as him. Probably, as things got urgent, the boy had tried to rush to the academy by riding the horse. Seeing how wildly the horse acted and how unskilled the boy's handling was, it looked like he hadn't owned the horse long but had either bought or borrowed it in a hurry. Since he was wearing nice clothes, he might have just bought the horse on a whim.
People swore under their breath, dodging the unruly horse as best they could while pushing forward. But the horse, already agitated and thrashing about, seemed to feel threatened by the crowd around it and was moving extremely violently, showing no signs of calming down.
"Please, don't do this to me! If I'm late, my dad will kill me!"
The boy, who appeared to be the horse's owner, had no idea how to soothe the horse and was only begging it desperately. It would have been better to just run on foot at this point.
As everyone cursed at the boy and passed by, one person approached him.
"Hey."
Ernest grabbed the anxious boy's shoulder, pulling him back to prevent him from getting too close to the horse's rear. Had he gotten too near, the boy could have been kicked hard and seriously injured. If unlucky, he might even have been killed.
Ernest was terrified at the sheer recklessness of this boy who had almost certainly never ridden a horse in his life, to think he had the courage to try galloping a horse down a crowded street.
"Wh-what the—!"
"You're heading to the Military Academy, right?"
Ernest calmly pulled the boy away from the horse's rump to stop him from causing more chaos or accidentally doing himself harm. But because Ernest was squinting with a headache, the boy was startled when he suddenly got grabbed.
"What's this! Are you challenging me or something?"
"I'll calm the horse down. And since you obviously don't know anything about riding, I'll take over."
To the flustered boy who was ready to argue, Ernest spoke in a composed tone.
"I'll ride the horse, and you sit behind me comfortably. How about that? Seems like a fair deal to me."
The boy, who had been acting dumbfounded at Ernest's words, suddenly opened his brown eyes wide and stared intently at Ernest.
"Alright. That's a fair deal, isn't it? Then hurry up and do something about this crazy horse."
The boy spoke with a casual smile, as if the panicked pacing he'd shown just moments ago had never happened.
Ernest thought this boy probably wasn't a noble. And definitely not from a military family either. Most likely, he came from a wealthy commoner family that had bought a noble title with money and purchased the right to enter the academy through payment.
Ernest quietly watched the horse as it spun around wildly in place. When the horse glanced back at him, he slowly began to approach. The agitated horse stamped its feet roughly in caution. It wanted to run away in fear but couldn't because the crowded surroundings prevented escape—it must have felt like madness.
Ernest simply stared into the horse's eyes and moved toward it slowly. The horse was so excited that everyone believed this young boy's reckless attempt would end in a painful lesson. Yet nobody stopped Ernest. Everyone was too busy going their own way.
"······."
Ernest looked deeply into the horse's dark eyes and edged closer. The wild horse fixed its gaze on the approaching Ernest. The horse soon began to focus quietly, just as Ernest did, staring into its eyes.
Shhick... shhick...
Then, the horse let out a heavy breath and stopped moving. Though it still shifted its legs slightly in place, its excitement hadn't completely faded yet—that was all it did. Perhaps exhausted from its wild thrashing, it lowered its head and allowed Ernest to gently stroke it.
The horse, now calmed, remained still even as Ernest stepped into the stirrup and quickly mounted the saddle.
"Ride."
Gripping the reins, Ernest guided the horse closer to the boy—the horse's original owner—who looked up at him.
"Wow. How did you do that?"
"Can't I explain later?"
"Yeah, that's true."
The boy tried to sit on the horse's rump, but unfortunately, both the stirrup and saddle were occupied by Ernest, and since the boy's legs weren't very long, he could only grunt with effort, unable to get up.
"Grab on."
"Ah, this is embarrassing."
Ernest reached out his hand to the boy. Complaining under his breath, the boy took Ernest's hand. Ernest quickly pulled the boy up and helped him sit on the horse's rump.
"Hold on tight, in case you fall."
"Damn it. This is seriously not right. When I'm riding, there has to be a pretty girl hugging my waist from behind."
"Maybe you should learn how to ride properly first before thinking about that."
Grumbling, the boy wrapped his arms around Ernest's waist, and Ernest skillfully started guiding the horse to run.
"Whoa! This is so fast!"
"No, it's not that fast."
"No, it is! We're going to crash!"
"We won't crash."
Ernest weaved deftly between carriages and people. The boy hanging on behind was a bit noisy, but it didn't really matter. The horse knew exactly what to do and ran smoothly.
"Hey! Take me for a ride too!"
Other boys in the same situation waved their hands and shouted toward Ernest. Ernest politely nodded to them in response.
"Sorry, I'm not the owner of this horse. And three riders are a bit too many."
Then he sped past them. It seemed like someone muttered a curse, but it didn't matter much if he ignored it.
"Wow! Riding a horse is actually pretty fun! Maybe I should ask my dad to buy me one."
The boy clinging to Ernest's back, having regained his composure, looked around and said this. The horse they were riding was probably his anyway. Judging by how casually he planned to ask his father for a horse, it seemed he was from a very wealthy family.
"You're going to ride whether you like it or not."
"What? Why?"
Ernest kindly explained to the boy.
"Because horseback riding is an essential skill. Don't expect to always be able to drive a car. In urgent situations, you might have to ride a horse, and if it's even more urgent, you'll have to run on your own two legs. Also, in noble society, horseback riding is part of social activities."
"...You're a noble?"
"I'm a noble. Although I've never actually attended any social gatherings."
"Ah, I thought you were one of those noble young masters who live off pretending to be important. Don't confuse me like that."
The boy said sharply and then chuckled to himself. He must have thought Ernest was some country bumpkin noble who had just come to the city. Despite the boy's rather rude attitude, Ernest didn't feel offended at all — it was probably because the boy was so refreshingly straightforward and innocent.
"My name's Robert. So, Robert Jimman."
"You're a noble too."
"Just recently. My dad bought me a noble title with money. It's not inherited, so he had to buy titles for each family member one by one."
Ernest realized that Robert's family, the Jimmans, was far wealthier than he had imagined. Buying an inherited noble title isn't something anyone can do just because they have money, but buying noble titles for the entire family required an unimaginable amount of money.
In noble society, these "new nobles" like that are looked down on and scorned, but when it came to certain political debates and financial matters, they actually wielded far more influence than expected.
"Alright, now it's your turn to introduce yourself. As a noble young master, you should at least know how to do that, right?"
Robert smiled playfully and asked Ernest. Ernest looked calmly but proudly at the approaching Imperial Military Academy and replied.
"Ernest Krieger."
Not many people knew the name Krieger, but Ernest had always carried pride in it. Just as he was proud of his stern, taciturn, yet respected father, Haires Krieger.
"Good. Ernest. We're going to be very good friends. Actually, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say we already are."
Robert acted overly friendly toward Ernest. They had just met, yet Robert was already calling him by his first name as if they were long-established friends. It might be due to his unfamiliarity with noble etiquette, but his natural sociability probably played a part as well.
"Don't you think we know too little about each other to be good friends?"
"Oh, no, that's not it. Think about it carefully."
In response to Ernest's question, Robert chuckled and said,
"To survive between the pretentious noble young masters and the boring military young masters, we have to stick together. You know what I mean, right?"
"Hmm..."
Ernest hesitated, unsure how to respond to Robert. Because, as an inherited noble with a father retired as a colonel, he had never once considered issues like this.
"I think it would be more practical to get recognized for our abilities and become friends with cadets from military families."
"I agree. But the thing is, I don't think we'll be recognized for our abilities."
"I see."
"More than anything, those guys have probably already grown close among themselves. They've spent several years together since the Juvenile Military Academy."
Robert grumbled.
Most of the cadets entering the Imperial Military Academy were graduates of the Juvenile Military Academy located right next door. They had entered the Juvenile Military Academy at the age of ten and followed the elite track. Factions had already formed.
"So, are you thinking of gathering plebeians, minor nobles, and country bumpkin nobles to try doing something together?"
"Oh, that's a very interesting suggestion. But my goal is to graduate quietly without drawing attention, earn the rank of second lieutenant, and retire at the right time. I have no intention of doing anything foolish like that."
"Don't you think it's a shame to stop at second lieutenant?"
"Well, just having the Imperial Military Academy diploma with a second lieutenant rank will let me do pretty much anything. Like buying a hereditary noble title..."
Ernest noticed that Robert was smarter than he had expected and looked at things quite realistically.
"Is your father a merchant?"
"How did you know?"
"Otherwise, where would you have gotten the money to buy a noble title?"
"He could be a wealthy farm owner."
"That's true, too."
As they talked about trivial matters, Ernest was the first to lightly jump down from his horse.
Robert, seeing the soldiers guarding the entrance to the Imperial Military Academy, nervously dismounted and almost fell.
If Robert had been a bit more relaxed, he might have noticed that the cadets still had the soft, youthful faces of boys who hadn't fully grown out of their childhood. They were all students of the Imperial Military Academy who would become seniors to both Ernest and Robert.
"What are you going to do about your horse?"
Ernest asked Robert as he petted the horse's neck.
"Ah, um... I hadn't thought about that. Do you want it?"
Robert's finances were comfortable enough that he could easily afford to give a horse as a gift to a country bumpkin noble boy—and he seemed generous enough to do so.
"No, I don't need it."
Ernest refused firmly.
There would come a time when he'd need a horse at the academy, but he already had his old friend Drek, who was far better than an old horse used to pulling carriages.
"Um... there's still time, right?"
"Not much, but some."
"Alright. Just give me a little help."
Robert said this to Ernest and, naturally expecting Ernest to help him, started walking briskly. Since Ernest had also benefited from Robert before, he took hold of the reins and followed him.
"Now, Ernest. You know how to ride a horse, so you should be able to check its condition, right?"
"That's somewhat a different skill, but yes, I can at least tell."
"Then find a poor coachman who looks like they need this magnificent horse that saved us."
Ernest raised his eyebrows and looked around.
A huge crowd had gathered to attend the Imperial Military Academy's entrance ceremony. There were also many carriages waiting, stuck in the congestion.
Amid the countless carriages and horses, Ernest quickly spotted a small, old-looking horse that seemed weak and pointed it out to Robert.
"Hey! You there, the gentleman with the stylish hat!"
Robert immediately approached a coachman with a smile and spoke to him.
"It seems your friend has a rather trivial problem. While we may not be able to solve it for you, we think we might have a new alternative to offer."
"What do you mean?"
The coachman blinked in surprise at Robert's sudden words and asked again.
"You can't possibly be unaware of the problem your friend has," Robert said.
"Isn't that right?"
Robert said this as he glanced back at Ernest.
Finding Robert's approach quite intriguing, Ernest shrugged his shoulders once and decided to help him.
"The horse is pretty old. Judging by its poor eyesight and small build, plus how quickly it tires, it looks like a tough job to handle this carriage."
"Exactly, exactly. That's what I was trying to say. Now, just think about it. Right now, this friend of yours is working hard pulling your carriage, but what if one day, while carrying a passenger, it suddenly collapses? And what if that passenger happens to be a noble?"
Robert licked his lips and spoke smoothly without hesitation.
"You know it too, right? Yes, what you need right now is a healthy, strong, and young horse!"
"You don't necessarily need a young one. As long as it's healthy and sturdy, that should be fine. Young horses tend to be quite expensive."
"Oh, you're right. Price is definitely a big issue. What you need now is a healthy, strong horse that just so happens to be on sale cheaply for some reason!"
As Ernest tried to estimate the age of the horse they had arrived on and subtly interjected, Robert quickly took over the conversation and changed the subject.
"And by some amazing coincidence, we just happen to have the very horse you need."
Snap!
Robert smiled brightly and then clapped his hands cheerfully.
"How much can you pay?"
In the end, they sold the troublesome horse in no time, at a fair price despite being pressed for time.
"Wow! That was perfect! I bought it by paying a little extra, then sold it at a reasonable price. The loss wasn't much different from the carriage's fare."
Robert chuckled gleefully as he spoke.
Then, he picked out three bills from the money he had just earned from selling the horse and casually handed them to Ernest.
"Here, 30 Deck."
Ernest didn't take them right away but just raised an eyebrow.
"This is the payment for your hard work—your eyes and mouth. Thanks to you, I was able to sell it quickly at a fair price."
Since Robert thought Ernest was a boy from a small noble family who had come from the countryside, he likely intended to use this as an excuse to give him money and build rapport.
"Alright then."
Ernest shrugged and accepted the money Robert offered.
Though he was never short on cash, he figured there was no harm in accepting payment for his efforts.
Ernest and Robert walked side by side, approaching the main gate of the Imperial Military Academy. Their seniors—cadets wearing soldier ranks and upperclassmen with corporal ranks—who had ridden horses and swiftly sold them off, looked at these newcomers with a strange glare.
"State your name."
An upperclassman wearing a corporal's insignia spoke with a hint of displeasure. As Robert had mentioned, unless one came from a high noble family or a military household, such contempt would be something they had to endure until graduation—and even afterward.
"...Robert Jimman."
Robert answered with a slightly nervous voice. At that, a cadet wearing a soldier's rank quickly flipped through the paperwork, found Robert's name, and pulled out a plain, undecorated rank badge from a box nearby, tossing it to Robert. Since Robert had anticipated this situation, he struggled alone to pin the badge onto his shoulder.
"Ernest Krieger."
When the upperclassman's gaze shifted to him, Ernest introduced himself calmly. Similarly, the cadet searched through the paperwork to find Ernest's name. His eyes widened slightly as he looked at Ernest. Unlike when he had carelessly thrown Robert's badge from the box, the cadet carefully took out an elegant wooden box and handed it to the upperclassman.
"Hmm…"
The upperclassman scanned Ernest from head to toe, then handed the wooden box back to him. Ernest accepted it with both hands, and the upperclassman opened the box himself and took out the rank badge, pinning it neatly on Ernest's left shoulder with a precise motion.
Though Ernest's rank badge was empty like Robert's, its edges were trimmed with gold thread, and the pin was made of silver, not iron.
The gold thread signified that he was a hereditary noble. The silver pin indicated that within his direct family line, there was an officer of at least field officer rank.
After graduation, once commissioned as officers, everyone would wear the same rank insignia, but at least within the Imperial Military Academy, the difference in these rank badges was absolute.
Seeing this, Robert silently dropped his jaw and looked back at Ernest.
"Ernest Krieger. Congratulations on entering the Imperial Military Academy."
The upperclassman extended his hand to Ernest as he spoke.
"Thank you."
Ernest shook his hand and replied calmly.
The upperclassman stared at Ernest for a moment before speaking quietly.
"I'll give you one piece of advice."
He focused intently on the silver pin on Ernest's rank badge rather than the gold thread.
"It's best to choose your friends carefully."
"Thank you for the advice. I'll take it to heart."
Ernest responded politely without objection to the upperclassman's remark, who cast a quick glance at Robert.
Seemingly satisfied, the upperclassman released Ernest's hand and even gave his shoulder a reassuring tap.
Holding the wooden box that had contained his rank badge in his left hand, Ernest calmly strode past the main gate.
"...That pompous, sneaky, treacherous noble brat…"
"Making assumptions, getting hopes up on your own, feeling betrayed and disappointed all by yourself, and then even talking about it yourself."
"Give me back my 30 Deck!"
"That was fair pay for honest work, wasn't it?"
"Damn it! That's right!"
Robert grumbled as he walked side by side with Ernest.
"Aren't we supposed to stick to our own groups?"
Ernest asked Robert, who had just been pouting.
Robert immediately changed his expression, threw an arm around Ernest's shoulder, and acted very friendly.
"Hey, what are you talking about? We're not the type to care about that. We're friends who've overcome tough times together! Right?"
"You're really smooth, aren't you?"
"If I weren't, how could this poor commoner survive?"
"You're neither poor nor a commoner."
"Shut up! I'm a poor commoner who needs protection to survive this battlefield! I'm! Fragile! As a noble and soldier, you have to protect the defenseless civilians!"
His shamelessness was so bold, it made Ernest grin.
He chuckled softly and nodded.
"I'm not really in a position to protect anyone. But if it's a friend, I think I can manage."
"That's right, friend. Let's keep supporting each other and stay strong until we graduate! I think I could offer you some small help for the sake of our friendship, what do you think?"
"I'm not exactly struggling with money either."
"No, you will be! How much do you need? How much would it take to buy your protection?"
"We'll be late if we keep this up. Let's hurry."
"That's cheating! A hereditary noble, from a military family, and you're rich too!"
"At least I'm not from the Juvenile Military Academy."
"That's right, you're not. Then we share that in common—we're not from the Juvenile Military Academy. Let's combine our strengths and find a way out of this."
"Yeah, yeah."
"We're going to be late."
Ernest, still rambling nonsense with Robert, headed toward the auditorium just before the entrance ceremony began.
If they were late for the ceremony, their admission would be canceled immediately.
That was because the great Emperor of the Mihahil Empire himself would be attending the ceremony, and no one would tolerate a fool who dared to be late.
Of course, Ernest wasn't particularly excited about seeing the Emperor.
What he really wanted to see wasn't the Emperor, but his father, who would be proudly watching him at the Imperial Military Academy entrance ceremony.