Chapter 12 - The Cursed Tongue (4)
In the afternoon of the day when Thomas gave his first military science lecture, there was a history lecture about the Empire. Ernest, a boy who loved books, didn't want to call it a history lecture though.
"It happened when the great Mihahil Empire was still the Barony of Mihahil, and when His Majesty the Emperor was still the heir to a small barony."
The lecture was filled with unbelievable, astonishing achievements accomplished by His Majesty Emperor Walter Ulrich Mihahil, along with fervent praise for him.
In fact, every book Ernest had read was just like that. Any history books that contained anything other than praise for His Majesty the Emperor were outright banned from publication.
So Ernest's dissatisfaction with this kind of lecture was highly unusual. It meant that he was questioning the achievements of His Majesty the Emperor—common knowledge and something every loyal subject of the Empire was expected to recognize without question.
"Truly His Majesty the Emperor. Back then, guns weren't even used in battle yet, right? How on earth did he come up with the idea to develop the Balt Gun in that situation?"
"That's part of it, but look at the tactics. Even now, they feel sophisticated."
"Thanks to His Majesty being a Master Baltracher, everything was possible."
The instructor allowed the students to chat aloud with a pleased smile. However, Ernest knew that behind those heavy, sinking eyes, the instructor was reading the students' expressions with an unfeeling, almost chilling detachment.
Ernest said nothing. He simply listened to the instructor and the students and occasionally glanced quietly at the portrait of His Majesty the Emperor hanging at the highest point of the lecture hall, his piercing blue eyes shining brightly. Then, losing interest, he turned his attention to observing the other students instead.
"That's right, that's right. Guns are common now, but back then they were just toys."
"That's right, that's right. I don't know much about tactics, but that combat ratio is really absurd."
"That's right, that's right. His Majesty the Emperor is truly one of a kind."
Robert also skillfully added his responses at just the right moments, nodding along and playing the part of an engaged listener perfectly.
The cadets chatted away for a while, then suddenly realized that Robert had been joining their conversation all along. No one had noticed when, where, or how this cheerful boy had slipped into their group. In a way, he was like a ghost.
After the entire afternoon-long "Praise for His Great Majesty the Emperor" session finally ended and Robert returned to his room, he let out a heavy sigh, looking utterly exhausted.
"I'm scared to death."
Robert whispered in a very small voice, genuinely afraid that someone might overhear him.
"This is your fault, Ernest."
Robert complained to Ernest.
"Really?"
"Hey!"
Ernest laughed playfully, echoing his damn 'Really?' question.
As soon as Ernest said that, Robert suddenly shouted loudly, threatening Ernest in a way that wasn't threatening at all.
Ernest responded by flailing his fists awkwardly in the air and glared at Robert, then whispered in a small voice.
"Do you really think it's good for you to just empty your mind and follow everyone else?"
"Oh, of course, everything you say, our great Ernest Krieger, is absolutely right."
"Do you really think I'm right?"
"Damn it."
Robert teased Ernest playfully, but when Ernest asked again, he ended up cursing.
"Really, Robert. Do you think I'm right?"
"..."
When Ernest asked seriously, Robert fell silent and quietly looked into his friend's dark eyes. He recalled what Captain Thomas Kohler, the senior instructor, had said in the military science lecture that morning and spoke carefully.
"At least, until now."
The lighthearted attitude Robert usually showed vanished like a lie. In a calm voice, the fourteen-year-old son of a merchant spoke, his otherwise ordinary brown eyes shining with clear insight.
"Ernest, I think Wilfried seems a bit uncomfortable around you."
Robert went back to speaking as casually as usual. Dinner time was coming soon. After that, they had to attend the social gathering hosted by Wilfried. Both of them, actually.
"Why?"
"Well, that's where it gets complicated."
Robert shrugged in response to Ernest's question. But in truth, Ernest hadn't missed the faint emotion Wilfried had shown at breakfast that morning—he just didn't understand the reason behind it.
"Please, I'm begging you—don't treat the Duke's Young Master the way you did Hartmann. Our reputation already has enough problems. So, you know what I mean, right?"
Robert pleaded with Ernest earnestly. Though his tone was somewhat playful, Robert was genuinely desperate.
As the son of a skilled merchant, he quickly noticed that something had changed in Ferdinand's demeanor after the conversation between Ernest and Ferdinand during last night's shooting practice.
With the situation growing tense between Ernest and Ferdinand, the leader of the first-year Military Faction, if the relationship with Wilfried—head of the Noble Faction—also turned sour, then Ernest and Robert's reputation or standing wouldn't just be on shaky ground. It would be completely shattered.
However, this was only a problem for Robert. Ernest was the kind of person who could prove himself regardless of factional power plays.
"I'll try."
"Oh, of course you will. My friend, trying hard is what makes you so impressive."
"You're impressive when you try too. So, if you put in the effort…"
"You know what I mean, right?"
"Really?"
Ernest mimicked Robert's tone and chuckled softly.
At first, Robert hadn't really intended to make any effort, but he ended up raising his eyebrows as he copied Ernest instead.
"No, I was just saying it."
"Hey."
"Just kidding."
"Which one?"
"There's no right answer, Robert Jimman."
"Yeah, sure. Long live the great Teacher Ernest. Long live."
After the two boys left, jokingly imitating the instructors, the room fell into a deep silence.
Within the Imperial Military Academy, there are several spaces for social gatherings. Though the institution is meant to train officers, most cadets come from powerful noble families. In fact, some disciplinary officers actively encourage these aristocratic social events, since there's no better place than the Military Academy to build connections.
"Hello, Wilfried."
"······."
Wilfried was taken aback when he saw Ernest greeting him so casually. It was because, when told to come comfortably, Ernest had actually come in complete ease. More precisely, he had barged in right at the moment dinner had just ended and the preparations for the gathering were just starting—when nothing was ready at all.
"······Should I come back later?"
Ernest looked embarrassed as he stood in the open doorway, seeing Wilfried and the servants from the Military Academy who were following his orders to prepare for the gathering staring blankly at him. Robert had peeked inside from beyond the door, then quietly slipped away without a sound, leaving Ernest behind. Whether to call that clever or cowardly was up for debate.
"No, it's fine. Come in. I wanted to have a talk with just the two of us at least once."
Wilfried decided not to expect any common sense from Ernest. Since Wilfried, the duke's son, could only expect common sense from fellow high noble cadets, this would have to count as a valuable lesson.
At Wilfried's mention of "just the two of us," Ernest turned to look for Robert.
Realizing Robert had already fled, Ernest felt betrayed and stepped closer to Wilfried.
"I have some matters to discuss with an early guest, so please follow through as I said."
"Yes, Wilfried."
The servants bowed politely, blinking at Wilfried's orders. The moment Wilfried commanded the servants, Ernest found him oddly unfamiliar. Wilfried was always the center of attention among the cadets, but he rarely gave orders so casually as if it were natural.
Wilfried treated the servants politely as well. Yet, his authoritative demeanor carried a subtle charisma—a gentle command that only those born to rule naturally possess.
"All right, Ernest. Have a seat."
Wilfried spoke to Ernest as usual and settled into the plush sofa. Ernest quietly took a seat opposite him. A servant quickly approached to pour tea, then stepped back to prepare the tea table and chairs for the other cadets who would soon arrive.
"What you said during this morning's military science lecture left quite an impression."
Wilfried spoke to Ernest as if the servants weren't even in the room, completely ignoring their presence.
"I didn't say anything remarkable."
What Ernest had said was simply, "A soldier must win."
To him, it was a vague, half-hearted comment, so he didn't pay it much mind.
"...I see."
Wilfried, who had just resolved not to expect common sense from Ernest, felt frustrated when Ernest bluntly dismissed the topic Wilfried had brought up to lighten the mood. He was both surprised and slightly disappointed in himself.
"Actually, after hearing about your father, I became somewhat interested in you."
Wilfried abandoned any attempt at a 'noble' way of speaking and addressed Ernest directly.
"Soldiers who received the Noble Heart Medal while alive are extremely rare. I think highly of him."
Still, unable to fully let go of his usual formal manner, Wilfried circled around the topic slowly, making his way carefully toward the heart of the conversation.
Wilfried had once judged Ernest to be worthless.
But after some careful thought, he changed his mind, deciding Ernest was worth recruiting.
Among the cadets belonging to Wilfried's noble faction, none came from a truly "soldier" lineage.
There were cadets from military families affiliated with the nobles, but their families were nothing more than puppets who had simply climbed the ranks through their family's influence.
In that sense, Ernest Krieger—born into the insignificant Krieger family—was a great asset to the noble faction. His father, Haires Krieger, had retired as a colonel and was awarded the Noble Heart Medal after retirement.
More precisely, Ernest would serve as a valuable connection for Wilfried Ravid, who, after graduating from the Military Academy, had to face the realities of being a real soldier.
And Ernest himself was more than capable.
"That's right."
Ernest nodded with a faint smile in response to Wilfried's words.
"I respect my father regardless of the medal."
Speaking softly, as if conversing with his father, Ernest calmly explained.
What he admired was not his father's medal.
He respected Haires Krieger the man because he understood the true value of what his father had shown and taught him.
"..."
Wilfried smiled gently, a graceful, almost greenish smile, as he slowly crossed his legs and folded his hands neatly on top. His sharp blue eyes sparkled as if trying to read something from Ernest.
"Don't you respect your father?"
"..."
At Ernest's calm reply that followed, Wilfried stopped so quietly it was almost eerie.
Inside his cold, blue eyes, something stirred violently before waves of hidden disgust and displeasure finally washed over his beautiful face.
"Rude."
Wilfried coldly glared at Ernest, moving only his lips as if whispering.
That was the fullest extent of passion allowed for Wilfried Ravid, the fourth son of Duke Ravid.
"Sorry, Wilfried."
Ernest calmly apologized.
Strictly speaking, Ernest hadn't really done anything wrong to Wilfried in this situation.
But knowing that Wilfried hated the name Ravid and still asking him if he respected his father was definitely Ernest's mistake. Even if it was just a genuine question.
This morning during their conversation, Ernest hadn't missed Wilfried's reaction. At that moment, he had thought,
"He hates the name Ravid."
The instant Ernest realized that, Wilfried clearly showed his displeasure.
And in Wilfried's blue eyes as they stared at Ernest just after he said he respected his father, Ernest could firmly catch the disgust that swirled within him.
Wilfried Ravid loathed and hated his father, the great Duke Ravid.
The duke had already given his eldest son—his heir—countless privileges and would pass down the dukedom to him intact. The second and third sons had also received significantly more than Wilfried ever did. Simply because they were born earlier.
As for Wilfried, the fourth son, not a single deck had been wasted "invested" in him.
"······."
"······."
A brief, awkward silence passed. Wilfried slowly steadied his breathing, trying to regain control over the emotional display he had just revealed, while Ernest patiently waited, aware of his own mistake.
"You're so out of place."
Yet Wilfried unfortunately failed to contain himself. For the first time in his life, having his flaws exposed to someone else, he felt an intense shame and frustration.
Of course, Wilfried knew very well that these feelings weren't aimed at Ernest, but at himself and his great father.
"You're a noble without honor, a soldier trying to break free from the system."
Wilfried whispered in a very low, secretive, and soft voice.
Ernest was part of the Krieger family, a hereditary noble, and had become a soldier upon entering the Military Academy.
But it seemed Ernest did not follow any of the usual values at all.
"Do you lack loyalty to the Empire and His Majesty the Emperor as well?"
"Loyalty."
When Wilfried spoke the word loyalty, Ernest, who had been silently listening to the criticism, finally opened his mouth.
"Then what about you, Wilfried?"
Ernest asked in a serious tone, showing no signs of being hurt or threatened by Wilfried's almost accusatory words.
"What do you think about the... uh, history lessons we get about the Empire?"
"······."
Ernest lowered his voice as he whispered.
Once again, Wilfried felt a bit disappointed in himself for failing to keep his promise not to expect common sense from Ernest.
"You probably asked me that question because you've been watching me. To be honest, I've been watching you, too. No, actually, everyone's been watching each other. But you definitely stand out. Like this…"
Ernest's words trailed off as he slowly lowered his gaze and tilted his head, his eyes following the same movement.
It was an eerie gesture, uncannily similar to Wilfried's faint reactions whenever the Empire's history lessons praised the Emperor.
"You were uncomfortable, weren't you?"
"······."
Wilfried had no room left for feelings like disgust or discomfort over that chill.
He realized that Ernest was restlessly scanning everything around him, obsessively gathering information with astonishing precision.
"You actually…"
Ernest's quiet voice faded like a candle guttering down to its last flame.
A servant carrying a chair glanced briefly at the two silent boys before moving on.
"What do you think, Wilfried?"
After the servant passed, Ernest asked again.
Though his words were abrupt and missing some context, Wilfried knew exactly what Ernest was trying to say.
"Nobles."
After a long silence, Wilfried spoke firmly in a heavy voice.
"They are those who bear responsibilities. Rights come after that."
Having said this, Wilfried mulled over his own words once more, then slowly nodded and spoke again, this time more clearly.
"That's all there is to it, Ernest."
Wilfried's words were intentionally vague, as if he were trying to avoid drawing attention from the eyes and ears around them. To the point that they sounded almost irrelevant. Yet, for Ernest, that was a sufficient answer.
"Well, it's a bit different, but that makes us accomplices."
At Ernest's words, Wilfried's delicate eyebrows twitched slightly.
Wilfried wished, for once, that Ernest had not understood what he meant. But Ernest understood perfectly.
A noble's rights cannot take precedence over their responsibilities.
Responsibilities come first, and rights follow.
So, I don't pledge loyalty to the Emperor just to lap up the dripping honey; rather, I simply fulfill the duties assigned to me and earn the rights I am justly entitled to.
In Wilfried's conviction, the 'responsibilities of a noble' did not refer to a deal made with the Emperor.
Those were just the duties his family had taken on by swearing loyalty for the sake of their own interests.
Wilfried was referring to the heavy duty that naturally falls on a leader when people first gather and form a group—the responsibility to meet the expectations of those who trust and follow him.
Ernest harbored doubts about the authority wielded by the Emperor, who held absolute power—based on what he had learned from his respected father, Haires Krieger. Meanwhile, Wilfried did not place any value on the Emperor's authority itself, drawing from what he had learned through his detested father, Duke Ravid.
Either way, such doubts were unforgivable sins. If the servant moving a chair right beside them were to catch the hidden meaning behind the boys' words and report it, both Ernest and Wilfried would face consequences far worse than mere trouble. Even the smallest suspicion or denial of His Majesty the Great Emperor could be considered treason.
Wilfried felt a slightly dreadful sensation. Though he now felt displeasure toward Ernest, at the same time he sensed a faint kinship with him. Fourteen years old was far too young to possess a mature enough mind to endure that dual feeling.
"...Sorry, but could you take your leave now? Take Robert with you, too. He might have already left, though."
Wilfried spoke softly and calmly.
His piercing, vividly blue eyes stared as if they could see right through Ernest's dark ones.
"No, actualy I'm not sorry."
Wilfried spoke bluntly for Ernest's sake.
"I don't like you. No, I hate you."
"I can't say that what I did deserved to be hated······."
Ernest mumbled in embarrassment, trying to come up with an excuse, but even he knew he had clearly crossed the line.
"Sorry. But honestly, I wanted to hear what the young master of the Duke's House thinks about this."
"Please don't call me that."
"I got used to Robert calling you that······."
"Tell Robert not to call me that either."
"Ah, okay. But Robert doesn't say it with any ill feeling or anything······."
"I know. Robert, unlike you, has a more pleasant side."
In noble society, revealing your true feelings to others is shameful, and as a ruler, it's something you must absolutely avoid. It becomes a weakness.
Unlike Robert, whom Wilfried couldn't bring himself to hate, Ernest was the kind of person you couldn't help but hate. At least, that's how Wilfried felt after Ernest had read all his hidden thoughts.
Ernest's powers of observation, analysis, and insight were astonishing—and because of that, Wilfried truly couldn't stand being around him.
For a moment, Ernest looked at Wilfried with a bewildered expression, then slowly glanced around. Apart from a few servants finishing up preparations for the social gathering, no one else was nearby.
"This is the first time I've been hated like this by someone. What am I supposed to do?"
At Ernest's urgent question, Wilfried was once again disappointed in himself for expecting common sense from him.
After facing repeated disappointments like this, his frustration grew considerably.
But who would have dared to imagine that Ernest would actually ask Wilfried, the person involved, such a thing?
"Instead of saying that, could you just leave as soon as possible?"
In the end, at Wilfried's order to clear the room, Ernest got up weakly and trudged out.
Even after Ernest left, Wilfried had to spend a long time in silence to calm the turmoil in his heart.
Everyone has secret parts of themselves they don't want others to see. And today, Wilfried was caught off guard—exposed to someone he never expected, in a situation he never anticipated. And it happened in an incredibly unpleasant way.
Throughout his long silence, Wilfried felt an anger that wouldn't subside and believed he could never forgive Ernest.
Wilfried knew it was a cowardly act.
But for a fourteen-year-old boy, perfectly controlling his emotions was impossible, and this moment would be remembered as an unforgettable moment of shame and humiliation until the day he died.
***
"Wilfried told me not to call him the Duke's House Young Master."
"Don't tell me you sold me out for doing so?"
"You ran away first."
"You bastard!"
"If you had gone in with me, none of this would have happened."
When Ernest returned to the room, he found Robert lying casually on the bed, pretending to know nothing, which made him quite angry.
At the same time, Robert was having a real headache because of Ernest, who had bluntly told Wilfried that Robert called him the Duke's House Young Master.
After fiercely blaming each other, the two boys sat close together and began talking.
"You were the one at fault."
This was what Robert said when Ernest recounted his conversation with Wilfried, leaving out the slightly dangerous parts.
"So, what do we do now?"
"Do you think I know?"
"Hey, come up with something. I'm helping you, so you have to help me too. We have a deal. A deal."
When Robert feigned indifference, Ernest brought up the deal again.
"Oh, a deal between friends? It's just give and take."
Robert, who usually argued about deals like that, now acted cheeky and kept pretending not to know.
"Fine, since I gave, you owe me something."
But when Ernest kept nagging, Robert rolled his eyes for a moment, thought it over, and then said seriously,
"...Want some candy?"
"Candy? How? It's forbidden to bring that into the dormitory."
"Well, there's a way to bring it all in."
"You should really consider yourself lucky you haven't been expelled."
Ernest grumbled as he rolled an unidentifiable candy around in his mouth.
Robert, smirking, popped one of the candies into his own mouth.
"Well, what can Wilfried really do just because he hates you? After all, he's just the Young Master of the Duke's House—the leader of the Noble Faction among the new cadets."
"…If you call him the Young Master of the Duke's House again, I'm going to tell on you."
"Ah-ah! You just said it now too! I heard you loud and clear!"
"You're childish. Absolutely no help."
"Oh, what help could I possibly be to our great Teacher Ernest?"
After enthusiastically blaming and teasing each other, the two boys realized how embarrassing their behavior was and agreed to stop.
Might as well wash up and get some sleep.