A New Attendant (1)
The next day, a new attendant arrived at Lichtenauer.
"Greet him, men. This is Adel. He'll be serving as an attendant alongside you."
"...It's a pleasure to meet you all."
Adel offered his greeting, and those assembled returned it. Word of him had already spread through the knights, and so not a single soul among the dozens of attendants — not even the knights who trained them — could quite hide their wariness.
A man who used to kill Rank 3 demonic beasts on his own.
A powerhouse skilled enough that the new family head named him as her escort.
The attendants were one thing, but the knights were far more concerned. When a man is confident in his own strength — when he knows he is stronger than those around him — most people cannot help but swagger, whether they mean to or not. And if that man's temperament is even slightly warped, that confidence can easily tip over into arrogance. They had seen it happen more than once.
They had dealt with a few such insolent attendants before. Naturally, they had ground those boys into the dirt on the spot and helped them come to their senses, driving home that no one with a rotten heart could ever become a knight.
But... damn it. This is on a whole different level.
Rank 3 demonic beasts were monsters even they acknowledged as formidable opponents. They could win a fight against one, sure — but it would be a hard, ugly struggle. And yet this newcomer, Adel, who had walked in today, had supposedly been killing those same Rank 3 beasts by himself. They hadn't seen it with their own eyes, but the elite knights who had gone to escort the family head had said so without a shred of doubt.
If he truly was a powerhouse of that caliber, then attitude training was out of the question. If he refused to listen no matter what they said, the proper course would be to pin him down with authority and force until he did. But if even that didn't work, they would have no way to restrain him at all.
Please, just don't let him have a sharp personality. Please. Please.
The five knights serving as instructors were all thinking the exact same thing.
Meanwhile, Adel, standing among the attendants, smiled.
This takes me back.
A similar scene had played out back then, too. They had all been different — in temperament, in appearance, in age — but they had run toward the same goal. Some had fallen before long. Some had survived to the very end. Even those who had gone first had all been his comrades.
"All right, listen up. As I told you yesterday, this entire morning is physical training. After lunch, the afternoon is etiquette lessons, so be sure to bring writing implements."
The words etiquette lessons drew groans from some and cheers from others. Adel, who had no idea what any of this meant yet, could only blink.
"We start with a run. Same course as always. Begin here at the training grounds, circle the castle once, hit the turnaround on the mountainside, and come back."
"You all know the rule — fall behind, and you'll be running extra on the weekend! Squeeze out every last ounce of strength and run, then run some more! Even if your lungs feel like they're going to burst, you hold on! You run until they do! Understood?!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Too quiet! A war cry is how you wring power out of yourselves! Louder!"
"Yes, Instructor!!"
"Good. Then let's run!"
The signal dropped, and the attendants surged forward in a pack. Some seized the lead group from the first stride. Others settled in toward the rear and held a measured pace. Of course, the attendants were not the only ones running. Two instructors set the pace at the front, two more were stationed along the middle of the pack, and the last brought up the rear.
"Is that what you call running?! Not good enough. We're picking up the pace!"
"Keep up! You're not falling behind already, are you?!"
The run was not merely for building stamina. It was meant to forge the patience to fight oneself and endure — and to temper the true nature that surfaced when a person was driven to the brink. That was why they had deliberately chosen such a punishing course.
The three instructors besides the lead kept their eyes on Adel. He had barely arrived, and already he was being thrown into a mad dash of a run. They half expected him to complain, or at least to let some distaste show on his face. But so far, he showed nothing of the kind.
Hm. Doesn't seem like too sharp a personality, at least.
Whew. Thank god. Thank god.
The knights let out a private sigh of relief.
"Run! Run! You think you'll become a knight of Lichtenauer at that pace?!"
"A knight has to be able to run even in full armor!"
"Get rid of any notion that you'll just be sitting pretty on a horse!"
As time wore on, the instructors began hammering at them in earnest. These attendants were not receiving a soldier's training — they were taking a knight's. Under ordinary circumstances, they were treated not as raw recruits but as juniors, and while a measure of discipline was necessary, outright hazing was strictly forbidden. But during physical training — especially the kind that bore directly on a man's mental state — they were driven without mercy, shoved up against their own limits. Being kind in those hours was absolutely prohibited. The instructors were applying the lash on purpose: to push the attendants to the breaking point, in body and in mind, and to help them smash through it.
They left the training grounds and swung onto the course that circled Lichtenauer Castle. It was flat, but it stretched on for a punishing distance, and running that far without a single pause was more than enough to steal the breath from anyone's lungs. The attendants' breathing grew harsher and harsher. They were young — fifteen at the youngest, barely into their twenties at the oldest — and in the physical prime of their lives. Even so, this relentless run made a mockery of age and peak condition alike. It was simply brutal.
"All right — this is the real hell stretch! Get your heads on straight!"
The flat ground ended, and an endless uphill climb began. The attendants grimaced and clenched their teeth. Running had been hard enough. Now it was an uphill mountain path, and they would have to keep pounding up it without stopping.
They're starting to wear down. This is when we have to be most careful.
The instructors led them onward and watched them closely. Even well-trained bodies could meet with accidents without warning. Only by staying ready could they keep a small mishap from becoming a disaster.
Gradually, the gap between the lead group and those falling behind began to widen. The instructor at the very front glanced back over his shoulder, wanting to see how well they were keeping up — and how many still belonged to the lead pack. What he saw put a look of genuine surprise in his eyes.
What... what is this?
The young man running right on his heels was, without a doubt, Adel — the one who had only just arrived today. Like the others, he was sweating, and his breathing had roughened a little. But a closer look told a different story. He was controlling his breath with perfect precision. His eyes were still sharp, and his body still looked light, as if this much were no trouble at all.
"Turnaround! Dig in, all of you! You're halfway there — halfway!"
"Aaaaagh!!"
Perhaps simply knowing the hellish climb was over was enough. The attendants let out a roar and ran, and ran again. Only some forty minutes later did they begin, one by one, to file back into the training grounds where they had started.
The two instructors who arrived first fought to settle their bursting chests, then looked at the attendant who had come in ahead of all the others.
Adel had clearly run at nearly the same pace they had. And yet, looking at him now, he seemed even more at ease than they were. His breathing had already returned to its ordinary rhythm, and the reserves still left in his body were plain to see.
His stamina is a match for most knights — no, better.
This is insane. Are we going to have to run faster from now on?
A short while later, the rest of the attendants began to enter the grounds. Unlike Adel, every last one of them went down where they stood the moment they arrived, chests heaving, lungs clawing for air. The instructors said nothing to those who had collapsed. They had run with everything they had, and they had won the fight against themselves. That much rest, at least, they had earned.
"You idiots! Extra running for you this weekend!"
"Aaaaagh!!"
"What do you mean, aaaagh?! I told you — fall behind, and you'd better be ready for it!"
At least we were spared that fate. The attendants who had already arrived exchanged looks of relief as they watched their lagging fellows stumble in.
"Excuse me."
Adel, who had been standing quietly and watching the whole affair, raised a hand.
"Will there be training on the weekends as well?"
"Of course. Anyone whose training is lacking has to make it up, even on the weekend."
"Ah... Then, may I join as well?"
Attendants and instructors alike stared at him. He had come in first, and the first thing out of his mouth was that he wanted weekend training? They wondered if they were hearing things. But Adel meant every word.
Not enough. Not even close. This is worse than not sweating at all.
A run that hadn't even lasted two hours. This wasn't child's play. His people had run from dawn to dusk more times than he could count. There had even been a time they had run for three days and three nights straight — no sleep, no food, nothing but a little water. The body had to be driven to its limits, always. Only then did he feel at ease. Anything less, and he felt himself growing weak, somehow. He had already been feeling cooped up, confined to the castle these past few days. Now that a chance to work it off had come, his body was itching for it.
"Well... if that's what you want, do as you please."
"Thank you."
Watching Adel beam at them, attendants and knights alike could only stare in dismay. Just what kind of man had they let in?
The physical training session — every muscle in their bodies screaming — finally came to an end. After a lunch that passed in reasonably good spirits, Adel soon discovered why the attendants' reactions to etiquette lessons had been so mixed.
If it's etiquette they're teaching... that would explain it.
Ulfhedinn was an organization kept under the strictest secrecy. The only people who even knew it existed were the Emperor and a handful of those closest to him, which meant they almost never had reason to operate in public. Even so, their direct superior was the Emperor himself, so a baseline of etiquette had been mandatory. The trouble was that teaching etiquette to men who had done nothing but fight was like telling a pack of children who had been running wild to sit still and read a book. Naturally, every last one of them had squirmed in their seats, muttering about what the point of it all was.
The attendants before him were no different. The ones who looked like they had an active streak suffered most of all.
"When you hear the word 'knight,' you might picture a glorious warrior — someone who swings a sword with flair and fights with everything he has. Unfortunately, that is a face you show only in wartime. In ordinary times, the face you must present is something else entirely."
The room had gone quiet.
"Every word you speak and every action you take becomes the face of your lord — and, beyond that, the face of the territory itself. Rudeness is a blade that cuts you down, a noose that tightens around your own throat."
This was no lesson that ended with a simple greeting. At the table, in conversation, even in the way they walked — the instructors poured out, one after another, the points of etiquette a knight was bound to keep. The attendants clutched their heads as if they had already had enough. At this point, they could no longer tell whether they were training to become knights or young noble ladies.
Everyone except Adel.