The Weakest Link
Three days after the banquet.
"Huff… huff…"
I was gasping for breath, and the reason was simple enough: the training was brutal. Dozens of soldiers stood shoulder to shoulder beside me, driving their pikes into the ranks of pikemen arrayed opposite them and shoving them back.
"Young Master! The enemy is targeting only you! Don't give ground!"
"I know!"
"Everyone! Protect the Young Master! Hold the weakest point and we all live!"
"Yes, sir!"
The soldiers worked hard, thrusting with their pikes to push the enemy back and even lifting them high to crack down on enemy heads — but in the end our side lost completely.
All because of one man. Me.
"Ah, fuck, I can't do this."
I had been struck without rest by pikes tipped with cotton. Padding or no padding, getting hit over and over still hurt. Body and pride both.
"Young Master! Are you all right?"
A veteran asked.
"Do I look all right to you?"
"You don't look all right at all! Shall I bring you some water?"
"Yes. Fetch some."
He pulled a leather waterskin from inside his coat and handed it over. A faint smell of liquor rose from it — they must have filled the thing with booze often enough. I ought to have Asilia run regular inspections of the waterskins.
Anyway, as I gulped the water down, the veteran said:
"Whew. We lost because of you, Young Master."
"I know. In a fight between pikemen, the moment one man is broken through, the whole line collapses."
"Yes. For pikemen, collective cohesion matters more than individual valor. No matter how well you fight, one person's mistake and the formation crumbles in an instant. Just like you, Young Master."
"I know, so stop needling me. Am I a raw recruit here?"
"Most recruits are better than you, Young Master."
Laughter erupted all around. Damn bastards. Ordinary soldiers, acting this bold? In a modern army, you'd all be fucked.
But in reality, the social standing of the garrison soldiers who defended the castle was fairly high. They were all standing troops, a world apart from the conscripts dragged out to the battlefield. So it was better to stay on good terms with them whenever possible. That was partly why I let them get away with it.
"In any case, I've learned a great deal. If the day comes when I command you, today's experience will be of great help."
"Leaving already, sir?"
"Yes. I've worked too hard today. I'm exhausted — I need a wash and some sleep."
Truth be told, after possessing Franz Meyer I didn't have many complaints. A good family, high intelligence, a decent face. Hard to find fault even if you looked for it.
But there were a few fatal flaws. First, a weak body. His naturally frail constitution had made Franz Meyer a weakling, and no amount of exercise would fix that easily.
Second, poor motor skills. Even with the same training, he couldn't match other knights — or even ordinary soldiers. It was of a piece with the first problem. When it came to physical work, he was largely useless.
It's almost enough to make me miss my original body…
My original self, Lee Siwoo, had been a gaming shut-in who kept exercise at arm's length — but even he probably had better stamina than Franz Meyer. This guy was truly hopeless.
With that thought, I stood up. The soldiers kept laughing and chatting among themselves.
I woke up.
It was four in the morning. I had fallen asleep so early from yesterday's exhausting training that my eyes had opened far too soon.
It was an awkward hour to try sleeping again, so I rose from bed and headed for the garden inside the castle.
There was already a visitor in the garden. My father. He was gazing at the stars, his profile full of worry.
"Father."
As I sat in the chair opposite him, he turned his head.
"Why aren't you asleep yet?"
"I didn't stay up — I woke early. I was so worn out from training with the soldiers yesterday that I fell asleep early."
"At your age, I used to stay up all night without a second thought. Since I was like that myself, I just assumed you hadn't slept."
I laughed. The people of House Meyer all had that streak.
"Come to think of it, I had you when I was your age."
"Did you?"
"Yes. It was a political marriage. Not long after I came of age at sixteen and held my coming-of-age ceremony, I met Elena. Family circumstances meant we married at once, and a year later you were born."
A child having a child. In the modern world it would have drawn condemnation, but in this era it was the standard.
"I'm aware I had you young. But it wasn't without reason."
"What reason?"
"House Meyer has always been short-lived. Your great-grandfather and your grandfather both died in their forties. So naturally, we tried to have children early. You could die at any moment before producing an heir."
"…"
The weight of the conversation left me speechless.
"Son. Speaking seriously — you too are a member of House Meyer. You must feel it yourself. That your body is not as healthy as others'."
"Yes. I'm well aware of that."
"House Meyer has always been that way. We possess minds superior to others, but our bodies fall short. So you too should marry quickly and have a child. That is what serves the family."
"…Yes."
If I were still the modern Lee Siwoo, I would have refused flat out. But here I was not Lee Siwoo — I was Franz Meyer. A noble. And if a noble has no heir, the house falls. It can be swallowed by another family. So marriage was something I would have to do eventually. If a decent person came along, I might as well grab hold.
"By the way, is something worrying you?"
"I've been summoned to court."
"To court."
Ascending to the lord's castle — meaning he had been summoned to Torgenberg Castle.
"His Lordship has called all the heads of the major houses. Including House Meyer."
"Is there some problem?"
"A strategy council. On how we should approach the internal strife of House Krusenstein. This choice could rewrite the next ten years — no, the next hundred years of history. Of course, that may just be my megalomania talking."
It wasn't megalomania. Henrik's decision on this matter actually reshaped the history of Arcadia Tactics in a major way. That was why the game treated it as a significant event as well.
"I feel the weight of responsibility. Knowing that the opinion I offer His Lordship here could change the future of House Setia — the pressure is real."
"Then shall I lighten that burden a little?"
"You, Franz? How?"
"Advise him to support Clozel."
"…!"
"Opinion will split between supporting Leona or supporting Clozel, won't it? The nobles will argue among themselves over it. But the truth is, His Lordship has already made up his mind. He only convened the council because he needs someone to push him from behind. So put forward your opinion, Father. Argue that we should support Clozel."
Father was silent for a while. His expression grew serious. He was no longer thinking as Sir Georg, but as the head of House Meyer.
"You believe Clozel will win?"
"No. Leona will win."
"Then shouldn't we support Leona?"
"Yes, that's right. His Lordship will support Leona as well."
"Then why should I argue for supporting Clozel?"
I grinned without meaning to. Even though I had thought of it myself, it was a rather nasty method.
"Because the moment you say we should support Clozel, the Four Great Houses will raise their hands for Leona."
"…"
Father's mouth fell open. He looked utterly nonplussed.
It was only natural. To understand this flow, you had to look back at everything so far.
When His Lordship was under threat, the Four Great Houses sat on their hands while the heir of House Meyer stepped forward alone and earned military merit. That left the Four Great Houses taking the blame.
In that situation, the heirs of the Four Great Houses and the heir of House Meyer had a heated argument. It nearly escalated to a duel.
The Four Great Houses' hostility toward House Meyer was at its peak right now. In that climate, if House Meyer supported Clozel, the Four Great Houses would naturally argue for the opposite side out of factional logic.
And then? His Lordship, who wanted to support Leona, would easily secure the Four Great Houses' approval and get exactly what he wanted.
"Son."
"Yes, Father."
"You're worse than I am."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
That day, I felt as though the bond between father and son had deepened.
Three days later. Father left the castle.
"While I'm gone, you are the lord of this castle. I leave the house in your hands."
"Leave it to me."
Father smiled with satisfaction and climbed into the carriage. That carriage, though — it could really use a cushion.
With that thought, I saw him off. May he not lose the war of nerves with those Four Great House bastards.