Chapter 5 - The True Warrior (5)
As I entered the auditorium where the entrance ceremony was being held, the place was already buzzing with the murmurs of a large crowd. Since most of the new students came from noble families or military households, this event was more than just an announcement of their enrollment—it served as a kind of political stage.
Above all, it was one of the rare few occasions when His Majesty the Emperor, who practically never engaged in public activities, would make a personal appearance.
Participation was absolutely mandatory.
However, everyone knew that the Emperor's movements had become even more secretive in recent years. In fact, since he had not attended last year's entrance ceremony, rumors were openly circulating that he would not show up this year either.
"By the way, where's your family?"
Robert poked Ernest in the side as he asked. As an incoming student, Robert could enter, but his family had been denied entry to the ceremony. On the other hand, because Ernest was from a hereditary noble family with a military background, his family could freely participate.
"My father's a bit busy."
"Really?"
Robert responded casually, but he seemed a little relieved—perhaps worried that he'd be left alone if Ernest ran off to join his family.
"Alright. Those cold looks. It's exactly what I expected, so it's not even surprising."
Noticing the judgmental glances at his rank insignia, which bore neither gold thread nor a silver pin, Robert simply grinned.
"And one more thing. Looks like I was right. Ernest, we have to join in with those guys chatting over there. It's not going to be easy.
Robert placed his hand firmly on Ernest's shoulder and nodded toward the groups of new students engaged in lively conversation. Among those who had already formed friendships at the Juvenile Military Academy or social gatherings, there must be a strong sense of solidarity.
"You don't need to stress about making friends too much," Ernest said calmly to Robert.
"That's not the goal. And it isn't all that meaningful as a means to an end, either. If you get good grades, that's enough. No one can push aside someone with irreplaceable abilities."
That was Haires's advice.
Ernest would never forget what he'd learned from his respected father, and would always put it into practice.
"Man, my dad used to say the same thing. But if I actually had that kind of talent, I wouldn't even be struggling with this in the first place."
"You should probably be a bit stricter with yourself."
Ernest offered a bit more advice to the grumbling Robert.
"Being generous to others can be kindness and consideration, but being generous to yourself is just laziness and arrogance. Before you say you can't do something, why not look back and see if you really did your best?"
"…Yeah. Your father really is a soldier. And a very strict and intimidating one at that."
"He's an admirable soldier."
"Well, I suppose that's true."
Robert muttered under his breath.
He was a little surprised to see just how much Ernest admired his father.
To Robert, Ernest's father seemed like an incredibly stern man.
The fact that Ernest wasn't afraid of him or resentful, but held him in such high regard was truly remarkable.
"All right, friend. In that case, could you give me some advice that'll actually help a clueless guy like me who got dragged here by my father?"
Feeling the atmosphere in the auditorium shift, Robert leaned closer to Ernest and asked quietly.
"Don't think that just learning what's taught at the Military Academy will be enough to catch up with everyone else. Most of these people have already studied as much as they possibly could before coming here."
"So you're saying I should find extra time to study? But where am I supposed to learn all that? Right?"
"This could become a deal between us, you know."
"What do you want?"
"I don't want anything from you just yet."
"Fine, I'll add it to my tab. Friend."
Because Robert was especially sensitive to anything that sounded like a deal, the moment Ernest brought it up, their conversation started moving right along.
If he had some spare time, Ernest would help Robert with his studies. And in return, he'd keep the favor as a debt Robert owed him. Robert's family, although only a minor noble family, seemed to be very wealthy merchants. It might come in handy someday.
Clack! Clack! Clack! Clack!
The mood in the auditorium suddenly turned heavy, and at that moment, soldiers appeared by the second-floor windows.
"It's the Beowatcher."
Whispers rippled among the nobles.
The Beowatcher, the Emperor's personal guard, were clad in jet-black uniforms lavishly embroidered with gold and quietly gazed down while holding their Balt Guns.
Should anyone move suspiciously, the Empire's finest soldiers would respond "appropriately."
"The Emperor has arrived."
"Oh my god. We might get to see His Majesty."
"I heard he might not show up."
"Shh, keep it down."
The high-pitched voices of the excited boys echoed throughout the auditorium as they chattered away. Ernest, keeping a step back from the commotion of boys who were all eager to get closer for a better look at the Emperor, stood quietly at the rear of the space reserved for new students, his hands clasped behind his back. At first, Robert had tried to follow along with the other boys pushing forward, but after glancing at Ernest, he ended up standing right next to him in the same posture.
'Ugh, this is terrifying.'
Robert rolled his eyes as he took in the situation, muttering to himself internally. The nobles who had come to observe the entrance ceremony wore disapproving expressions as their sons ignored all restraint, and the Emperor's elite guard, the Beowatcher, glared down coldly at the rowdy boys. The instructors, who were presumably staff, also remained silent with stiff lips, their eyes quietly scanning and assessing each of the new students.
Maybe the evaluation had already begun. Amidst the chaos, the handful of boys who kept to their places without fuss already seemed to stand out from the rest.
Robert became certain: he needed to stick as close to Ernest as possible.
"Silence. Return to your seats."
The boys who had surged forward for a glimpse of His Majesty froze instantly at the commanding voice. Part of their reaction was due to the speaker being a Brigadier General, owner of a gleaming gold laurel and a single golden jewel—but it was also the unmistakable authority, the kind that could only belong to someone who gave life-and-death orders in real battle, that rang clear in every word.
With just a word from Gauss Schulz, Cadet Commander, all chaos was quelled, and the boys hesitantly retreated and returned to their places.
From above, the divisions among the new students were quite clear. Those whose insignia were decorated with gold thread and who had come from the Juvenile Military Academy gathered at the front. Behind them were the new students with silver pins. Furthest back, like Robert, were those wearing plain insignia with no adornments at all.
That was why it looked so out of place for Ernest, whose insignia bore both gold thread and a silver pin, to be standing quietly at the very back.
Cadet Commander Gauss Schulz glared at the new students with his piercing brown eyes beneath a perfectly shaven bald head before stepping aside with precise military bearing. Then, an elderly man with a mane and beard of thick white hair strode forward with unhurried steps and stopped squarely before the new students. His dark eyes softened gently.
"I am Major General Armin Mannheim, Headmaster of the Imperial Military Academy."
Armin spoke in a warm voice. Yet his voice resonated so powerfully that it seemed to swirl throughout the entire auditorium and shake you to your core.
"Some of you will not even make it to graduation, and some may lose your lives in training accidents. It's unfortunate, but it happens every year and is all too common."
With just those few words, Armin made it clear to everyone that this was not a nurturing orphanage for children, but a military academy to train the Empire's officers.
"I hope that after four years, I'll see each of you commissioning as officers when you graduate."
Armin spoke with kindness, yet there was a cold edge to his tone—the voice of someone who could speak of death so dispassionately.
"Learn for victory. Fight for His Majesty the Emperor. Glory is not given; it must be seized."
As Headmaster Armin Mannheim's words drifted through the air, Ernest—who had been counting the number of new students (fifty-four so far) and noting their characteristics—looked up at Armin at a familiar phrase.
The answer isn't something you're handed; it's something you reach on your own. That was something Ernest's father, whom he deeply admired, once told him.
"..."
In that moment, Ernest felt as if he'd made eye contact with Armin himself.
But Armin, as if to prove it was just in Ernest's head, slowly swept his gaze across the hall, making deliberate eye contact with every new student. Suddenly, Ernest realized that, plagued by his chronic lack of focus, he hadn't been paying attention to the ceremony at all. And then it struck him how strange it was that the Emperor hadn't shown himself, even with the Beowatcher, the Emperor's personal guard, present.
Ernest's eyes slowly traveled around the room, focusing especially on the second floor Among the new students, Ernest was the only one rolling his eyes around, unfazed by Headmaster Armin Mannheim's commanding words and charisma.
Because of this, Ernest actually managed to make eye contact with several members of the Beowatcher. Following what his father had taught him, he began deducing a specific location by tracing the positioning of the Beowatcher guards and following their line of sight. Just as he pinpointed the spot, one Beowatcher fixed Ernest with a piercing stare and, in a barely perceptible gesture, tucked his chin and blinked slowly—a silent warning.
Feigning ignorance, Ernest resumed counting the new students, darting his gaze about like a distracted boy full of curiosity.
But Ernest found it almost impossible to ignore the unsettling awareness in his back. Through observing the Beowatcher's deployment and their attentive stares, he'd figured out exactly where the one person they were assigned to protect was stationed.
"..."
Directly behind Ernest, who stood at the very end of the line of new cadets, he could hear deep, ragged breaths being drawn. And then, even while Headmaster Armin Mannheim was still speaking, someone started to walk away—calm, unhurried steps echoing as they receded into the distance.
Suddenly, it seemed to Ernest like all other noise faded away and only those footsteps rumbled in his ears like thunder. They grew fainter, and then disappeared completely.
"Congratulations on your admission. From this moment, you are soldiers of the glorious Mihahil Empire. Never forget that."
Armin's brief address came to an end. Ernest snapped back to his senses, only now realizing that his body was drenched in cold sweat. A headache began to throb at the back of his skull, causing him to scowl.
At that very moment—when everyone else swelled with pride at entering the Imperial Military Academy—he was the only one scowling. That expression caught the eye of every leader facing the new cadets—Headmaster, Cadet Commander, Chief of Faculty, all their subordinate instructors and drillmasters—and left a lasting impression.
And if the same boy who'd left such an impression had the nerve to roll his eyes and look elsewhere in the middle of Headmaster Armin Mannheim's speech, he'd be even harder to forget.
"Who does this kid think he is?"
One of the upperclassmen attending the entrance ceremony muttered quietly as he watched Ernest. There had never been a new cadet so distracted during the entrance ceremony before.
Even as he followed the disciplinary officer out of the auditorium, Ernest kept glancing all around.
"So that's why they held the ceremony inside—to guard against snipers."
Ernest realized that, even though the weather was clear, the reason the entrance ceremony for the Imperial Military Academy was held indoors rather than outdoors was because of concerns about snipers.
Most of the cadets at the Imperial Military Academy were the children of High Noble families, and their instructors were officers. Even the Emperor himself attended. Since it always took place at the same time in the same location, there was no choice but to be vigilant about sniping.
"You there. What are you looking around for so much?"
The moment they left the auditorium, one of the training assistants leading the new cadets glared sharply at Ernest and spoke. Rather than making excuses, Ernest simply replied shortly.
"Sorry."
"…It'd be best if you just focused."
Since he apologized, there wasn't really anything else to be said. Judging by the assistant's rank insignia, he was from a military noble family too. And that was the end of it.
But if Robert, who was stuck close by Ernest's side, had acted that way, he would have faced a major hurdle right from the start of his four years at the academy.
The new cadets were first issued their cadet uniforms, which they were required to change into. After that, room assignments began.
At first, the cadets who had come up from the Juvenile Military Academy were paired up two by two to assign rooms. Since most were in that situation, there were less than ten cadets left unpaired. Considering that the total number of freshmen was sixty, it was obvious how isolated those remaining few would feel from now on.
"Your Majesty the Emperor! Thank you!"
Right after the room assignments were finished, the disciplinary officer told the cadets to go to their rooms, unpack their things, and then come back out. The moment they entered their room, Robert spread his arms wide, dropped to his knees, and shouted gratefully.
"Aren't you getting a bit too excited over something so trivial?"
Ernest said this in a calm voice to Robert, who had been assigned as his roommate.
"Hey, think about it. What would've happened if I'd had to share a room with the son of some hereditary noble? I might've ended up massaging his feet every night!"
"That wouldn't happen. In principle, all cadets of the same year are on equal footing."
"Yeah, in principle."
"You could've ended up with someone else, though."
"Actually, it's best to form relationships with people who can complement what you lack."
"Is that what your father told you?"
"Exactly."
"We'd better hurry up and get back out there!"
"Yeah, let's head out."
As they chatted while unpacking, Ernest and Robert threw down their things and hurried out into the hallway.
***
"This is a disaster. Both of you get one demerit point each."
"..."
"..."
They had to accept demerits from the upperclassmen who barged into their rooms before they were completely unpacked.
The cadets who had come from the Juvenile Military Academy didn't even bother to unpack at all.
They just neatly placed their bags in a corner of the room.
They were told to unpack, so they did—but those who followed the orders got demerits, while those who didn't quietly got away with it.
It seemed this was meant to put the freshmen in their place a bit, but since those from the Juvenile Military Academy were already familiar with these little initiation tricks and could easily avoid them, it just made the divide even bigger.
In fact, the upperclassmen were already approaching the Juvenile Military Academy cadets and chatting with them quite amicably—since they all knew each other from social circles.
"Well, things are off to a bad start," Robert muttered.
"It's not really messed up yet. This is nothing," Ernest replied.
"You might be fine, but I can't even guess what else they'll hit me with next," Robert said.
Robert knew the initiation wasn't over yet—and that the usual targets were guys like him with unimpressive ranks.
Ernest simply shrugged at Robert. After all, he wasn't Robert's older brother or caretaker; this was something Robert would have to handle on his own.
However, Ernest's confidence didn't last long.
There were all sorts of initiation rituals for freshmen, and some focused specifically on their living quarters.
When Ernest returned to his room after his very first meal at the Imperial Military Academy, he found his belongings from home scattered and mixed together with Robert's, both of their things strewn across the floor.
"That's one demerit for you, Jimman."
A disciplinary senior appeared, almost as if he'd been waiting, and delivered the news.
Ernest quietly observed him.
"Do you have a problem with that, Krieger?"
The disciplinary senior glared at Ernest with obvious intimidation.
In reality, he knew that some of the scattered items belonged to Ernest.
But Ernest—the hereditary noble and son of a military family—had such modest belongings that it was impossible to tell what was his and what was Robert's.
So, he'd simply dumped everything out.
Still, he thought, at least he'd only given Robert the demerit, so it was fair enough.
But for Ernest, this wasn't something he could just let slide.
"No, I don't have any complaints," he replied politely nonetheless.
"That's good. It'll be better for you if it stays that way."
As Ernest listened to the senior's warning, he let a small smile play on his lips.
He watched the senior's retreating back closely.
Then, he quickly took in everything: the people glancing at him and Robert's room from the hallway, their eyes, their expressions, their breathing, their positions, even their postures—he read it all.
Just like when he played those enjoyable games with his father, Ernest gathered a wealth of information in an instant, analyzed it, understood and categorized it, and was able to draw meaningful conclusions.
"Let's clean up. If we leave things like this, we'll get more demerits soon."
"Damn it."
Ernest brought Robert into the room and locked the door. He looked around the messy room and saw that the new clothes Haires had bought him for his admission to the Imperial Military Academy were now ruined, soaked with ink that had spilled from a broken bottle. Ernest quietly folded them and carefully placed them in the corner.
"What are you doing?"
Robert was already exhausted just from organizing his belongings. He could see a tough road ahead of him. Yet, after Ernest finished tidying everything up with impressive composure, he sat down at his desk and started reading something.
"I need to study. Robert, you should study too."
Just as Robert had done earlier, Ernest called him by his first name without permission. Robert, as if it was only natural, didn't seem to mind.
"We just got here today—why are you studying already?"
"Robert,"
Without taking his eyes off what he was reading, Ernest quietly called Robert's name.
His ability to focus was limited compared to others. He needed to get things done while he could concentrate.
"Hearing you say that, even after all this, I can tell I'll probably end up having this room to myself before long."
"…"
Robert pressed his lips together and edged closer to Ernest, peering at what he was reading.
It was the School Regulations of the Imperial Military Academy—the handbook given to all students.
"Alright."
With that brief reply, Robert sat down at his own desk and began reading and memorizing the regulations just like Ernest. Robert was much quicker at calculation than most fourteen-year-old boys. He had inherited a knack for business from his father, who had made a fortune in Commerce in the capital of the Empire, Grimman, and he had followed his father from a very young age, learning a lot along the way.
Even so, Ernest seemed strikingly atypical, even to Robert. He was reserved, calm, polite, mature, and possessed an inexplicable air that made Robert uneasy.
Tap.
While Robert was quietly absorbed in memorizing the regulations, a noise from beside him made him glance over. Ernest had put down the thin booklet of school rules and was rearranging the carefully organized items on his desk, moving them around.
Ernest proceeded to organize his desk in six different ways. It looked extremely scatterbrained, but every item was arranged efficiently and neatly so that nothing was inconveniently placed. Then, Ernest went right back to memorizing the rules.
Something about Ernest's odd behavior gave Robert goosebumps.
"Weirdo."
"Still haven't memorized them?"
"And what, did you memorize it all already?"
"Yeah, I finished."
"…Already?"
Robert turned to Ernest in surprise when he claimed he had memorized a book of more than twenty pages in less than thirty minutes. Yet Ernest was still flipping through and reading the book.
"Then why are you still reading it?"
"Just in case."
"…Fine. So, what's the plan? I'm your roommate, you know. It's best to share your plans with trustworthy companions. Don't you agree?"
Ernest set down the School Regulations book—he'd already memorized it—and looked at Robert.
"Do you know how to hunt?"
"Hunt?"
Robert raised his eyebrows in confusion at the sudden question. He had never gone hunting before. As far as he understood it, hunting was when nobles rode leisurely on horseback, waited while their servants loaded their guns, and fired at whatever prey the hounds had chased out.
"Yeah, hunting."
But Ernest's idea of hunting was entirely different. He knew how to crawl through damp, moss-covered forests, endure the tickling of insects crawling over his body as he lay beneath piles of leaves, set traps, finish off prey, skin animals with a dagger, clean their organs, and cook whatever he'd caught himself into a delicious meal. That was the kind of hunting Ernest knew.
"I'm actually quite fond of hunting."
Ernest thought back on the time he'd spent with his father and smiled shyly, just a little embarrassed.
Some people say that once you show weakness, it's over—that you have to keep fighting, always. But that's all nonsense. If you go around snarling and baring your teeth, threatening everyone from the start, you'll have to keep it up until the day you die. That's why you only need to do it once. Wait patiently for the right moment, and then act decisively, that one single time. When your opponent finally lets their guard down and comes closer, you sink your teeth into their throat in a flash—it's over in an instant.
It's always the cowardly dogs who bark. A real hunter, someone who knows how to cut off their enemy's breath, stays silent. At least, that's what Ernest had learned from his father, whom he deeply respected.
Of course, he couldn't actually kill anyone. Ernest had never taken a life. But he could definitely give whoever played a nasty trick on him a real shock. Ernest was more than capable of that—after all, look at who taught him.