The Knight Pays a Home Visit (1)
"Haa."
"......"
"Haaa..."
"......"
"Haaa...!"
"Um, ah, i-is something the matter, Lady Irene?"
"...Just call me Irene, Levi. And nothing's the matter."
"I-is that so."
"But...! Haa! No. It's nothing..."
"......"
No matter how you looked at it, she was jabbing for attention. Sighing on purpose, loud enough for everyone around to hear, was one thing. Following it with those burdensome looks, begging someone to notice, was another. Cold sweat beading between Levi's brows was only the natural next step.
"Poor Levi. Caught by that demon at last..."
"Why does she insist on doing this at the sword faculty training ground?"
"She wants someone to talk to. That's why."
"Then why here? If she just went to the magic faculty, plenty of people would kill to talk to her."
"Those magic faculty brats are fanatics who worship Lady Irene. She says they're too much to handle."
"Ah, fair.... Wait. How do you know that?"
"...Last time she grabbed me, I had to listen to her for five hours."
"......So you got got too."
At the start of term, Irene Windler had been an object of pure longing for the sword faculty students. A duke's daughter was impressive enough on its own, but Irene herself gave off a mysterious charm that stood level with the title. A face as lovely as a fairy's, a voice fresh as spring water. The talent of an Archmage, and magical skill worthy of it. An intellect that had shone as runner-up in the entrance standings. A girl perfect not only in beauty but in mind—there was probably not a man anywhere who had failed to take her into his heart. Had she not been a duke's daughter, the confessions alone might have numbered in the thousands.
...And yet there was one place where, uniquely, every feeling toward her had gone stone-cold. None other than—
She really is beautiful, and brilliant besides. It's just her behavior.
Last time I got caught, I had to keep her company for ten hours. ...I never want to go through that again.
Whoever ends up taking her, he'd better have sturdy eardrums.
...the sword faculty.
They, too, had admired her at first, the same as everyone else. Then they actually spent time with her, and, well.
She's not a bad person. She isn't.
It wasn't that Irene's character was bad, or even particularly twisted. She was only a little too starved for affection, her talk never left a gap to breathe, and, mage that she was, she had a habit of committing eccentricities that weren't quite eccentricities. ...And those were precisely the reasons the students were dropping out of her orbit. All the more once a few who had steeled themselves to humor her ended up fainting with nosebleeds.
Beautiful things really are best admired from a distance.
A girl who grew more charming the less you approached her. That was Irene Windler.
And as if to prove it—
"So listen, Levi, just listen to this. Four nights ago I saw it. The maid and the Instructor, stuck right up against each other, can you believe it? I followed them the whole time. They were holding hands, eating together, even taking a walk...! That's a date. A complete date! So I was burning up inside, jealous, envious, wanting to be the one standing there, I really...!!"
"Ah, I-I see. But Miss Layla and Master have always stayed close, so it isn't really strange..."
"No...!! Anyone else can say that, but not you, Levi! You're not even jealous!?"
"Pardon? If Master is happy, then I'm simply glad."
"...Hk!"
"And even if I were only second... ah, no! It's nothing..."
"Aaaah! Why are there only kind, good women around me! I'm the only bad one! Only me...!"
"Arin, you seriously embarrass me."
"Shut up!"
"Pardon?"
"I wasn't talking to you, Levi! I was talking to that damned ghost."
"......"
"No, I mean it! Stop looking at me like I'm pitiful!!"
...And so Levi, once caught, had no choice but to listen closely to the girl's grievances and answer in all the right places.
"Gomsoon is too good. Too kind. Kunta wants a wife like that too."
"Did you not receive a confession the other day?"
"Kunta said, let's have a child right away. She hit Kunta's cheek and left. Next day, rumor said Kunta is trash. So Kunta was sad."
"...That is not something to be sad about. The fault was yours."
"Think Instructor-sir saw that and called it Self-Made Ruin. Heh heh!"
"Ah, Garand. Has the sparring finished?"
"Eh, more or less. Man, that assistant got seriously strong, didn't he? No—more than strong, the spite and the danger are no joke. Hammer in his hands, he's a real pain to fight."
"...Having faced him myself, he is certainly troublesome."
There were three students commonly called the sword faculty's trio. The finest swordsman in the faculty was, of course, Roen, but if one set Roen aside, the talent and skill belonged without question to those three. Arno de Offen, scion of the Sword Duke. Kunta, the mystery-race barbarian. Garand, chief disciple of the Mercenary King. Those three.
...And today those three had set out to spar one particular person, and in that sparring they had been forced to feel the edge of danger more than once. Even now a red mark stood vivid on Garand's cheek. A mark from a blow that had landed clean. And the one who had left it—
"...Nnngh."
—was Damian Paulet, asleep where he had collapsed.
He had taken a proper shot to the jaw in his match with Garand and blacked out. In the old days Garand would have ended it at a simple pin rather than a knockout, but pinning him was no longer easy. No. Garand had been forced to fight at full strength.
"He's gotten stronger. Well, he throws himself at Instructor-sir every day. Course he'd get stronger."
"It will not be from simply throwing himself. The spite in him is no joke."
"Mm. Sometimes the assistant scares Kunta. Yesterday, when we fought, he looked like a Ghoul."
"His condition is certainly past words."
Word was he had worked through the night yesterday as well. One did start to wonder whether there was any day he didn't work late, and with the insomnia he had picked up recently, Damian's face was such that calling him kin to a ghoul would not have been strange.
"Heheh... I... I get to sleep..."
Whether being knocked cold counted as falling asleep, Damian wore a happy face all the same. Sleep, even sleep won by being hit, seemed desperately welcome.
"...And that's what he mutters in his sleep."
"Assistant. Pitiful."
"Kunta, then you ought to work as an assistant too..."
"Garand. Do not cross the line. Even between friends, there are words one must not say. Kunta does not want to lose a friend today."
"......Sorry. That was my slip. I'll apologize again."
"Mm. Kunta accepts. From now on, not even as a joke."
"Since when do you talk so well?"
And so, same as always, the sword faculty enjoyed its peaceful daily life(?). The kingdom was still thick with incidents and accidents, but they were students yet, in a place where they were meant to be protected. Peace that might end at any moment was all the more reason to enjoy it.
And then—
"The hell? Why's this bastard sleeping here instead of at home?"
The knight who, whether anyone realized it or not, contributed enormously to the keeping of that peace showed himself.
"Looks like the construction wrapped early today."
"More or less. Just the closeout left."
"...Haha."
Lee Han, later than usual, was on his way back from a construction site he had been at since dawn.
Which site?
What does "he smashed the Royal Castle" even mean...
Father said not to mouth off at the Instructor, didn't he? ...Isn't that just obvious?
Who was he sparring?
The Royal Castle. The site Lee Han had gone to repair was none other than the Royal Castle, and most of the students already knew, roughly, what he had done. A fair number of their parents worked there.
...From what they'd heard:
They said a sparring match nearly brought the Royal Castle down?
How, exactly, did a spar demolish a castle? He couldn't make sense of it. One thing was clear. Parents who used to let their complaints about Lee Han slip, knowingly or not, were now begging their children, hard, never to make an enemy of their instructor. Would you believe they had even told them to send gifts?
Which was why the students called young masters, or chicks, could guess well enough what Lee Han had done.
Something very like the Instructor.
The usual, no doubt. Destruction on the order of an ogre, tyrant of the mountain.
"So. Why's the assistant brat sprawled out here?"
"He was sparring Garand, took a hit, and passed out."
"Yeah? He wouldn't drop from an ordinary hit."
"Got the mark on my face to show for it, matter of fact."
"Put your back into it. Keep this up and he'll catch you."
"That's the plan."
"Hm. Want to take a run at me like this one does?"
"...Instructor, sir. Mercenary or not, I don't do anything that stupid."
"He does."
"Dumber than a mercenary. Tsk."
Damian had reached the point of drawing pity even from a mercenary, and still he only slept on, looking perfectly content. Lee Han told them to dump the boy somewhere else, then turned to face the students.
He clearly had something to say. The students went dead quiet, as if they had never been noisy at all.
"Quick on the uptake."
Lee Han looked pleased that he wouldn't have to waste many words. From the bag hidden against his back, he drew out a stack of papers.
"Take one each. Whoever wants to, get a parent's signature and bring it back."
"This is?"
"A home-visit application."
"...Pardon?"
"A home-visit application."
"??"
Lee Han explained it simply.
"Kingdom's been loud lately, yeah? Your parents are worried sick over it. So, seeing as I'm your instructor, shouldn't I put them at ease? I also mean to tell them what we've got in place for any danger that might come up."
Only then did the students understand.
"Ah!"
"So that was the deeper meaning!"
"Rather meticulous, for you, Instructor?"
"Plant your forehead."
"Yes, sir!"
After handing the buzzcut who had run his mouth a fitting punishment, Lee Han fixed his gaze on the students again.
"I'm not forcing it, obviously. Only the ones who want it. That's why I told you to bring back a signature."
"What about Kunta?"
"If you want it, say so. I'll run to your homeland and back."
"It is a hundred kilometers away?"
"That's close."
"?"
"Anyway. If you get it, you're dismissed for today. I'm letting you off early, so go ask your parents."
Lee Han scattered them in a slapdash rush. It was a little forced, but the students were already used to situations like this. They only nodded, and none of them found it particularly strange. A side effect, of a sort, of living under him and weathering far too many peculiar things.
"...?"
Partway through, one student reading the thing called an application tilted his head.
"I-Instructor. May I ask one question?"
"What."
"...Um. Looking at this, why is mine already signed...?"
Arno de Offen. He had found a signature already sitting in the consent box of his application, and he raised the question. Lee Han gave a short snort and drew something from inside his coat.
None other than this.
"Nothing special. Visiting your house doesn't need separate permission, so I went ahead and filled it in."
"...Why is that in your hand, Instructor?"
A worn dagger. The moment Lee Han showed the blade he had received from Baltar the day before, Arno's pupils trembled. In the whole house, the only person who possessed such a thing was his father, the family head...
"This is a free pass to your house, yeah?"
"......"
"Oh, and before I use it, there's something I want to know."