Chapter 61 - Covered in Ashes (5)
"Hello. I'm Robert Jimman, a friend of Ernest's. Please, just call me Robert. Even I'm not all that used to the last name Jimman. But honestly, no matter how you look at it, you can tell right away you're Ernest's father. Even if I'd come here without knowing this was the Krieger household, I would've recognized you in an instant. Even if I'd just passed by you on the street. Oh, and Ernest really talks about how much he respects you—a lot, honestly. He says it so often that now, even if he stopped, I'd still hear it echoing in my ears."
Robert rambled on far more than necessary, then, with an awkward smile, carefully added,
"I hope I haven't said anything out of line?"
Haires looked calmly down at Robert, who had suddenly started chattering the moment he saw his face, and slowly shook his head.
"No, it's fine. Ernest has told me quite a bit about you as well. It's good to finally meet you, Robert."
When Haires welcomed him so quietly and evenly, without any expression or change in tone, Robert finally felt relieved.
Robert had expected Ernest's father to be strict and cold, but meeting Haires in person, he seemed ten times stricter and a hundred times colder than Robert had imagined.
It didn't seem like Haires had any intention of going out at all. Still, he had buttoned his crisply ironed shirt all the way up to his neck, was wearing a jacket, not a single hair could be found on his hollow cheeks or sharp chin, and his hair was perfectly combed back.
Even high nobles relax in comfort at home from time to time.
Robert hadn't lived all that long, nor was he particularly experienced, but in his life, he had never seen anyone look so relentless and thorough.
To Robert, Haires seemed to live under a stricter discipline than even Wilfried, the Duke's son.
Haires extended his hand to Robert, who quickly grasped it—only to flinch in surprise.
During his time at the military academy, Robert had shaken hands with instructors who'd seen real combat, but never had he felt hands so utterly and relentlessly covered in scars.
He didn't need to see them; he could sense it through touch alone.
And as Robert looked down at Haires's hand in surprise, his eyes were drawn to Haires's left hand, where he spotted a gruesome scar running from the palm across the back of the hand.
"I'm sorry for showing up out of the blue, but is Ernest home?" Robert asked.
Once Haires let go of his hand, Robert managed a bright, easy smile and spoke politely, careful not to do anything rude like wipe or shake off his hand despite the chill that ran through him.
Of course, Haires hadn't missed a single detail of Robert's reaction, observing him with close attention.
Haires Krieger already understood that Robert wasn't a particularly dangerous fellow, but still felt it necessary to get a read on his son's closest friend—just in case.
"Yes, he's inside. It's cold out, so come on in."
"Thank you."
At Haires's calm reply, Robert smiled and entered the Krieger house.
Before stepping inside, he energetically brushed the snow and dirt from his shoes—he wouldn't have dared make a mess in front of Haires for anything.
"You can change into these."
"Yes, thank you."
Fortunately, Haires brought out a pair of guest slippers, so Robert didn't have to throw his already-ruined shoes outside and walk in barefoot.
After putting on the slippers and stepping inside, Robert looked around and realized his precautions had been well-founded. Everything was organized with an almost eerie precision; there wasn't a speck of dust in sight. If it weren't for the strangely large number of lights keeping the house warm, it would have been hard to believe anyone actually lived here.
"Ernest. Your friend is here. You can study later—take some time to catch up with him," Haires called toward Ernest's room, which was located just off the entrance hallway.
"Yes, Father," came the immediate reply from Ernest.
Since his room was so close to the entrance, he'd heard everything.
Ernest stepped out and saw Robert.
There wasn't much excitement in his expression—they'd only been home a single day since leaving the Imperial Military Academy.
After all, they'd shared the same room all year and had parted ways only yesterday.
It was far too soon to be truly happy to see each other again.
"Would you like something to drink?"
"I'm fine, I'll get it myself."
"All right. Make yourself at home."
Moving as silently as a shadow, Haires disappeared, and Ernest led Robert into his room.
"What kind of studying were you doing?"
As soon as they entered the room, Robert pulled a face and grumbled.
The very mention of studying had already soured his mood.
"Math."
"Ugh!"
When Ernest went a step further and actually said that wicked, horrible word, Robert recoiled in horror and even gagged dramatically.
"What's wrong? It's just ordinary math homework," Ernest asked, frowning at Robert's extreme reaction. For Ernest—who was learning math, science, literature, the humanities, rhetoric, economics, and more from Haires, and who was so bright that he picked up anything quickly and never forgot it—the reactions of people who disliked studying always seemed rather bizarre.
"Awful! How can you do that sort of thing the moment you get home?!"
Robert was convinced that anyone who could study math so willingly—like Ernest—must have been possessed by some evil demon.
"You're studying too," Ernest replied, sounding exasperated with Robert.
The first-year curriculum at the Imperial Military Academy assumed cadets already had a solid academic foundation.
But starting from the second year, the material became tougher, and subjects like math and science were taught.
Ernest knew perfectly well that Robert had been taught all the academic basics.
If that weren't the case, there's no way Robert could have ranked thirtieth among the first-year cadets, even with all the help Ernest had given him.
"I might be studying, but it's downright horrible! My father is forcing me just to use me as a tool for expanding the family business! I'm suffering because of my father's greed!"
"Robert, you should realize how lucky you are to receive such a high level of education that you won't fall behind, even at the Imperial Military Academy. If you step outside, you'll find plenty of people who can't even count higher than their own fingers."
Education is a privilege.
You should be grateful for the opportunity to learn.
Robert's father, Oliver, spent unimaginable amounts of money to have noblemen's tutors come and teach Robert.
It was done by invitation, not employment—or at least, that's how it appeared.
This was the only way for a minor noble's son to receive an education suited for the truly privileged, beyond what was usually allowed.
If poor commoners found out how much money Oliver spent—even for just one lesson for Robert—tears of blood would flow from their eyes.
"I'm the son of a merchant, and I'm supposed to become a merchant. Why would I ever need something like the humanities?"
"You know perfectly well how foolish that sounds. Stop whining."
"Why do you always say the right thing? Oh, don't answer—I already know. I met your father. If I may say so—and I do mean this in the most careful way possible—he must have been an outstanding soldier. He seemed like the very model of a soldier."
"Robert, I know you mean that as a compliment, but I also know you mean he was incredibly stubborn and set in his ways."
"What? When did I ever say that? You're the one who said he was stubborn, not me. Right?"
"My father really is stubborn. We still don't have even a single Balt Lighting at home."
"So you inherited your stubbornness from your father."
"Are you saying my father is stubborn? That's unforgivable."
"That's not it. Anyway, I'm meeting up with the others this afternoon to hang out. Do you want to come?"
Robert realized that talking about his friend's father was putting him at a disadvantage, so he quickly and cautiously changed the subject to secure a retreat.
"Hang out? Doing what?"
"I don't know. We just decided to hang out. Do we really need to plan everything out?"
"Still, isn't it odd not to set a date or even decide what to do first, just like that?"
"So to hang out with friends, do I need to draw up an operation plan, submit it for approval, get it signed off, send a Courier to notify everyone, collect their agreement, and only then start the operation?"
Ernest, who meticulously organizes and manages his schedule, and Robert, who empties his mind and goes with the flow during his free time, simply couldn't understand each other.
"…First, I'm going to finish my math studies for the morning."
"No way! Are you serious? We should drop studying right now and head out! We have a perfectly good excuse! An excuse!"
"Yes, there is an excuse. Once we become sophomores, the Military Academy even teaches us this kind of general knowledge, and it counts toward our grades. Sit down."
"I refuse! This can't be happening! Teacher Ernest!"
"Get a hold of yourself, Student Robert. If you waste your time now, you'll fall behind and suffer in your second year."
"Wait, Ernest, are you actually trying to be my teacher now?"
"If it means not having to listen to you whining about getting expelled later, I'd rather start teaching you now."
"Damn. You're absolutely right."
Defeated by pure logic and reason, Robert sat down in front of Ernest's desk with the expression of a pig being led to the slaughterhouse.
"Wait a second. I'll grab us something to drink and bring an extra chair."
"Alright…"
Leaving Robert behind, Ernest headed out to the living room.
"You could study later," said Haires in a low voice, seated on the sofa in the living room, reading a book.
"We have nothing else to do until we meet in the afternoon anyway."
"That's true. Have fun this afternoon, but don't come home too late. If you end up staying at your friend's house, make sure to send word through one of the servants."
Though Haires was a strict father, in situations like this he was surprisingly lenient.
He knew very well that Ernest wouldn't be led astray by hanging out with friends.
"I won't come home too late."
And Ernest replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Haires quietly watched as Ernest prepared tea, stepped into his room, then came out and carried a chair back into the room, before returning to his book.
"About your desk—"
As Ernest brought in the chair and closed the door, Robert spoke in a cautious tone.
"How on earth do you organize it?"
Instead of studying, Robert was intently examining Ernest's meticulously organized desk.
"Why are you curious about that?"
"I've actually wondered for a while."
"I just organize things efficiently, that's all."
"But isn't it odd to have several different organizing methods if you're all about efficiency?"
"Not particularly."
"Hmmm…"
"Enough with the pointless talk. Let's just study."
"Damn it."
Ernest grabbed hold of Robert, who was trying to avoid studying, and began teaching him math. Although Robert grumbled and whined, he surprisingly kept up quite well. His personality might be questionable, but Robert is actually pretty smart.
"I've thought this before, but—"
"Could you stop bringing up every excuse in the world just to avoid studying?"
"No, this is something I really have to ask."
"Alright. Go ahead."
With Ernest's permission, Robert spoke in a cautious tone.
"Why on earth do you draw diagrams like that?"
Robert was pointing to the figures Ernest had drawn while studying math.
"Why are you picking a fight again?"
Ernest frowned. Robert shook his head and began to copy the figure Ernest had drawn.
"Look, if you're going to draw this shape, most people would do it like this."
Using one side of the figure as a reference, Robert first completed that part and then carefully extended the drawing bit by bit until it was finished. Then, Robert looked at Ernest. Ernest let out a small sigh and drew the figure again. Ernest drew bold, confident lines from top to bottom.
"What's this?"
"It's weird, isn't it?"
"What about it?"
"You always draw maps this way too—starting from the top and going down, without any reference point."
"What's so strange about that?"
"Does your father draw like that too?"
"…No."
"Great. That's a relief. Then I can say it without holding back."
Robert spoke confidently.
"I've never met a bastard who draws as weirdly as you do. You draw like you're making a print or something."
"So what. Just focus on your studies."
"..."
Muttering under his breath, Robert resumed studying math. He was finally freed from mathematics when it was time for lunch.
"How about having lunch with your friend outside?"
"Is that really okay?"
"There's no reason it wouldn't be."
With Haires' permission, Ernest left the house with Robert.
Haires, expressionless, saw off his son and his son's friend, then returned inside.
"So, where are we going to eat?"
"Want to come over to my house?"
"Robert, no matter what, I really don't want to just show up at your place during mealtime without notice and demand food."
"What's the big deal? The cook makes it anyway."
Robert was someone who had grown up in a very wealthy family. The Jimman mansion was enormous and extravagant, home to many servants including a cook.
"It takes preparation to welcome a guest, and you should take care with hospitality. If I just show up unannounced, your parents will definitely feel uncomfortable."
"Oh, not my father. He'd probably like you more than he likes me."
Robert's father, Oliver, would surely be delighted to see Ernest—the boy who helped his son adjust to the Military Academy, looked out for him, and even made him study. He'd probably prefer Ernest over his own troublesome son!
"Anyway, let's save that for another time. Let's eat out today."
"Alright, lead the way."
Robert marched confidently down the street with Ernest in tow. Despite all his wealth, Robert seemed quite at home out here.
"Want to try that place?"
"Sure."
They went into a dining hall, had a simple meal, and left. Ernest thought the light meal was a conscious choice, probably because Robert wanted to hang out longer with his friends.
"Let's eat there next."
"Again?"
"I'm still hungry, aren't you?"
But before long, Ernest could only sigh at Robert's way of eating. Flush with cash, Robert never filled up during a single meal—instead, he liked to sample a little from several different places. It was a truly extravagant way to eat.
"Well, sure."
Ernest felt a bit awkward, but he decided that trying this kind of meal at least once wouldn't be so bad, so he went along with Robert. After roaming the streets and sampling food from one place to another, the two boys finally headed to Adler's mansion.
"We've been expecting you. Right this way, please."
"Yes."
Not long after they approached the main gate and spoke to Adler's private soldier, an attendant appeared and led them into the mansion. Both Ernest and Robert felt uncomfortable with how politely the noble attendant treated them, but they said nothing and followed along.
"Robert. Ernest."
As they stepped inside, it seemed word of their arrival had already gotten around—Jonas was walking out to greet them in the lobby.
He was dressed in an opulent, extravagant outfit, looking so natural in it that it was hard to believe he was the same ordinary classmate they saw at the Military Academy.
"Welcome! You're here a bit early, aren't you?"
"We heard it was in the afternoon, so we showed up. Would you have preferred if we'd come later?"
"No, it's fine. I don't have anything else to do anyway."
With a warm welcome, Jonas dismissed the attendant with a wave of his hand. The attendant quietly bowed his head and withdrew.
"It's a good thing I told Robert in advance. I contacted everyone else myself, but I couldn't find where House Krieger's mansion was. I figured Robert would know."
It seemed Jonas assumed that Krieger's home would naturally be a lavish mansion in the Inner District reserved for nobles.
"My house isn't like this mansion. It's over in the streets of the Outer District."
"What?"
So when Ernest told him that, Jonas was genuinely shocked. He hesitated, his lips parting as if to say something, then gave a small, embarrassed laugh.
"I never considered that. Ernest, let me know where it is later."
"There's not really much to see, though."
"I'm not so rude that I'd visit a friend's family just to look for something interesting."
With Jonas's firm response, Ernest smiled slightly and nodded.
"Alright. Later, then."
Jonas had been taught by his family that the Outer District was nothing but a filthy, ignorant place, little more than a slum where the poor scraped by. Up until a moment ago, that was exactly what he thought.
But after his time as a cadet at the Military Academy had broadened his perspective, Jonas no longer shouted, "You live in a place like that? Get out of here right now!"—instead, he could now laugh and look forward to visiting his friend's home.
"Come visit my place too. I've got plenty of things you refined noble young masters have probably never seen before—might even find them fun."
Robert, eyeing them for a reaction, chuckled as he spoke. Without hesitation, he slung his arms around both Ernest's and Jonas's shoulders.
"And if I get expelled in my second year, be my insurance so my father doesn't kill me, alright? Just help make me look good in front of him for once. You pale-faced scholar, cut me some slack."
"At the sight of your face, I really don't want to go," Jonas shot back, echoing Robert's playful tone.
If another noble happened to witness this carefree scene, they'd likely clutch their forehead in dismay and exclaim, "What are you doing, letting that lowborn stay here?"
"So, what's the plan?"
Ernest, who had been distractedly surveying Adler's mansion, finally decided to clear up the question that had been on his mind. Jonas simply shrugged.
"We're just hanging out, that's all."
"…You're just like Robert."
Ernest frowned deeply.
He simply couldn't understand people who acted without a plan.
"How could you say something so harsh."
"You're both just as bad as each other."
Jonas looked like he might challenge them to a duel then and there, while Robert grumbled under his breath.
In the end, until the other boys arrived, they drank tea, chatted, and set up a mock combat just like they did in the Military Science lectures at the Academy.
With as many as eight servants attending to them, running the mock battle proved effortless.
"It's surprisingly fun when you don't have to worry about grades."
Back in class, Robert had grown sick of mock combat, but without the pressure of academics, he found himself genuinely enjoying it.
"Right? You can even try bold tactics and experiments."
Ernest also enjoyed being able to test out all sorts of experimental tactics without any consequences. Later on, when more friends joined, the scale grew—now there were teams of four squaring off against each other. This time there were as many as twenty servants assisting, and as the situation became more complicated, the boys' minds grew tangled, the servants tripped over one another, and eventually everything devolved into pure chaos.
"What's even happening right now?"
"I have no idea…"
"Ugh, it's a total mess…"
"In that case, it's our victory in the end."
"What? Why?"
Amid the hectic battlefield, Ernest declared their victory.
"Can you keep going?"
To his bewildered classmates, Ernest posed the question. Naturally, everyone shook their heads.
"When you focus solely on moving your own troops, you lose sight of the bigger picture. In a situation like this, the only command left for you is to retreat—to order your soldiers to run toward the friendly base. Surely you wouldn't command a charge in these circumstances, would you?"
"So?"
"You're at your most vulnerable when you're in retreat."
Ernest took the stick his servant was holding and pushed the cavalry units—which had been kept to the rear, unable to do much against the overwhelming firepower of the Balt Gun—forward onto the map.
Not just his own cavalry, but his allies' as well.
"What are you planning to do with the cavalry?"
"Wait… Can you really see it playing out like this?"
"Yes."
Ernest began to nudge the tangled mass of horses with the stick, shifting them across the board.
"The real battle should have taken place here—not there."
"Oh. I see now."
"Since additional orders weren't relayed properly, assuming these two units kept fighting all the way to the end, it's safe to say they wiped each other out. Even if one side survived, they'd have completely lost the ability to keep fighting."
Ernest was reading each unit's movements with greater accuracy than the cadets who had given the orders or the servants who had physically moved the pieces.
Before long, with just a single long stick, Ernest restored order to the battlefield that had fallen into chaos.
"I'm going to have the cavalry charge this spot."
"Wow…"
Ernest saw right through the clumsy maneuvers of these inexperienced boys, precisely targeted the gaps in their formations, and sent in the cavalry, succeeding in breaking through to the enemy's rear with minimal losses.
With a firefight raging at the front, cavalry were suddenly appearing behind enemy lines. To defend against the cavalry's assault, the only option was to form square formations and cover every side, but that meant their firepower on the front line would be overwhelmed by the enemy.
"The cavalry are impressive, I'll give you that."
"But you can stop them pretty easily with a square formation."
"That's why you need to press them from the front with infantry. Don't just charge in blindly."
"Cavalry have always been great—the problem is they're tricky to use. Their high mobility lets you use a bigger part of the battlefield."
Although this was supposed to be just a mock combat game, not a Military Science lecture, everyone began an earnest discussion. In fact, they were more enthusiastic than during actual Military Science classes.
Back then, they participated only because they had to. Now, they genuinely wanted to take part. The thrill of it naturally brought out their passion.
"What you need to pay the most attention to right now isn't how to use the cavalry—it's reading the state of the battle. No matter how well you handle cavalry, if you can't grasp the situation, it all amounts to nothing Right?"
As the other cadets debated how to handle the cavalry, Robert smoothly joined in, pointing out exactly what mattered most.
"That's true. You're right."
"This is actually pretty fun. When are we doing this again?"
"Hmm..."
"I'll send out a message next time."
"Sounds good."
The mock combat had become a social gathering for the first-year cadets living in Grimman.
They decided they would take turns hosting the get-togethers.
"Cavalry... It'd be great if you could master them, wouldn't it?"
"But for all their mobility, there are so many limitations. In the past, I've heard that the highest-ranking commander traditionally had authority over the cavalry."
"Now that the mock battle's over, should we go for a ride?"
"I'm in."
The conversation shifted from cavalry tactics to horseback riding. The noble boys paid no attention to the servants working hard to clean up behind them, and left the room with cheerful laughter. Since it took some time to bring horses over from each of their families' estates, they borrowed horses owned by House Adler.
Ernest felt a bit flustered by the spontaneous turn of events, but he decided that sometimes it wasn't so bad to just go along with things, so he quietly followed along.
Horseback riding didn't last long. It was getting late, and the sun set quickly.
"See you next time."
"When's next time?"
"Whenever we're all free again."
"…Alright."
Once the gathering ended, Ernest hurried through the dark and chilly streets toward home, since the sun had already set. He'd promised not to be late, but somehow he ended up coming back after dark.
"I'm home."
"Welcome back, Ernest."
Fortunately, Haires didn't scold his son for returning late. However, since Haires had already eaten dinner and Ernest hadn't, Haires needed to prepare a separate meal for him, and that made Ernest feel a bit sorry toward his father.
"Nothing happened, right?"
"No, I just had some fun with my friends."
As Haires set the table and asked, Ernest answered with a smile.
But after a moment, Ernest wrinkled his nose slightly and added,
"But honestly, everyone was so disorganized with their plans that it felt a bit overwhelming."
As Haires set the food on the dining table, he made a slightly peculiar expression.
"For some people, spending time without a plan can be a form of rest or play."
"Well, that's true."
Haires quietly watched his son eat his late dinner, then settled back onto the sofa and picked up his book again.
Ernest hadn't gone into detail, but Haires could tell that his son was fitting in well among the noble boys and wasn't being discriminated against.
That, he thought, was thanks to Ernest's abilities.
He was the top student in his year—he had even set a new record in Military Science's highest score.
That achievement had secured him a unique standing among the cadets.
It seemed Haires no longer needed to worry about this matter.
"Haa..."
Night had fallen over Grimman's Street, and a biting winter wind cut through the air.
Despite a trembling voice and fragile movements in the cold, not a single passerby turned around.
A small, shivering figure struggled to move forward, finally ducking into an alley where the wind was weaker.
She crouched in the pitch-black alley, untouched even by moonlight, trying desperately to hide from the cold by pulling an oversized coat—far too big for her frame—over her entire body.
But she couldn't block out the chill rising up from the ground.
Even the falling snowflakes were so cold they hurt. It felt as if she might stop breathing at any moment.
Grrrgle…
Her small, empty stomach growled in protest. But after spending most of her money for a single night at an inn, and then being driven out onto the freezing winter streets, she had nothing left to buy food.
No, even if she could afford to buy food, she shouldn't.
She had 4 Deck left. With that, maybe she could spend one more night in a shabby inn.
"So cold..."
Marie, the girl who hadn't boarded the transport vehicle heading back to her hometown, shivered from the biting cold, curling her small body even tighter.
If she sold the only thing she owned—this plain dress—she could probably afford to stay at an inn for a while longer.
But Marie just couldn't do it. No, she couldn't even bring herself to consider it.
The best option Marie could think of now was to survive the night outside and then find another place to stay tomorrow, lasting one more day.
She told herself that even if tonight was rough, if she got a good rest tomorrow, she'd be fine.
That way, she could manage one more day out on the streets after that.
What to do after she ran out of money, Marie truly had no idea. All she could think about right now was making it through tonight.
Hugging her shabby bag—with the dress inside—tightly to her chest, Marie had to endure the cold in the dark alley.
Winter was unbearably long and harsh for this small girl.
And the winter nights were just the same.