Troublemaker of the Training Ground (2)

First, I wait.

Making a choice at this exact moment would be poor judgment.

"You may find it insolent, my lord, but under the regulations Lady Arina herself established, when you visit this training ground we are required to ask the purpose of your visit. You haven't forgotten, have you?"

Back then, Isabella — who had, thanks to her chronic illness, cherished Karsein terribly — had apparently resolved the matter by simply paying out compensation. But Arina had not forgotten, and she took drastic measures against Karsein.

Those measures amounted to a declaration that he was barred from the training grounds entirely. Anyone could hear what business had brought him, and if the knights who trained there refused to grant permission, they were free to drive him out — a declaration that stripped away his right to use the grounds at all.

That was exactly what this knight was saying to my face, without a shred of subtlety.

Get lost from this training ground, already.

'It's sound logic, honestly. Not a single flaw in it.'

The fact that Karsein had once injured someone here would never change, after all.

But.

That was only the surface of the incident.

By the time the eyes fixed on me had multiplied past ten pairs, I was scanning the vicinity for one particular name.

'There he is. Just as I thought.'

A man whose name had not yet been struck through in gray.

His intimacy sat slightly higher than the others.

Still, though. Negative twenty-five percent.

If I couldn't raise this to a white box, any activity at the training grounds would be impossible.

No — beyond that, I would simply die.

The difficulty was nightmarish, but the means to break through this situation stood right there, arms crossed, staring me down.

"If you've come with no business here, then leave. We have no wish to see the young master set foot in this training ground."

At the man's jerk of the chin, his two companions nodded and began to close in.

I didn't need eyes to see what was coming. Orders to drag me out, no doubt.

"Don't take it too hard, my lord. We are merely following Lady Arina's orders."

Once again, the brutal choices had appeared.

The time had come to sort them by risk and reward.

This single choice would split Episode V's progression down fundamentally different paths.

Option one was a straight ticket to the bad ending, so I simply wouldn't pick it.

But from option two onward, every route demanded a strategy — I had to read the situation with care.

'I picked through every one of them in the game. And back then I chose three, the lowest-risk option... but.'

Watching the knights' eyes — eyes that belonged to people, not pixel sprites — that didn't feel like the right answer anymore.

Ducking the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠whole matter by waving the Duchess's permit and saying, "I'm permitted to use the grounds, so there" — was that really the correct way forward?

...No. It wouldn't be.

What I needed right now was

to strike first.

"Who is the master you serve?"

I chose the option at the very bottom — the one carrying the greatest risk of all.

A training ground that should have been thick with the heat of drills and the sweat of achievement went dead still, as though a wave of frost had rolled across it in an instant.

The adopted son of the ducal house — the one everyone believed would never set foot here again.

He had appeared, of all people, of all times.

'Karsein Bagrand...'

Mark ground his teeth at the sight of Karsein's return.

Before long, one of the knights stepped forward.

"And what, pray tell, brings the fine young lord of House Bagrand to the training grounds?"

Karsein had been cornered the moment he walked in — because of the measure the eldest daughter, Arina Bagrand, had handed down.

And it sent Mark sinking into an old memory.

'Why am I suddenly hearing Radiel's voice?'

Mark shook his head, trying to deny it. But the voice kept playing in his skull all the same.

"He is not someone who would ever harm me. He's not the kind of person who deserves a measure like that!"

"Are you kidding me? Captain — who was it that made you what you are?"

"Then at least you — at least you help him. I'm begging you, Mark. Please?"

"..."

Mark lifted his head and looked at Karsein again.

The outcome was obvious. The boy would be thrown out.

Arina's measure had handed the knights every justification they needed.

All Mark had to do was lean against the railing, sneer, and laugh along with the rest of them as Karsein got chased off.

But.

"Mark. Please."

The image of Radiel, pleading with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠everything he had, flickered before his eyes.

'...Letting him use the training grounds — that much is within my authority.'

And even Radiel wouldn't object to that much.

Mark uncrossed his arms and moved to approach Karsein.

At that very moment—

"Who is the master you serve?"

Karsein's voice rang out across the grounds.

Without a trace of timidity.

Startled by the sudden challenge, the knights faltered — and Karsein pressed the question a second time.

"Anyone will do. Answer me. Who is the master you serve?"

"Naturally, the Bagrand Ducal House."

The regular knight who had jerked his chin at Karsein answered without yielding an inch.

And in that instant, Mark felt danger prickle down his spine.

'Don't tell me. Is he about to threaten the very knights who serve House Bagrand — trying to cow them into lifting his ban?'

Foolish boy.

Mark quietly clicked his tongue.

The moment Karsein borrowed the family's power and pressed the knights down with his status, they would make certain he never used the training grounds again.

Because the knights answered to the rules of the training ground.

Training Ground Regulation Article 1.

This was a place of training for the knights who protected the ducal house, and two clauses explained everything it stood for.

Clause 1-1.

Status within the training grounds does not include social rank. The knights move for one purpose alone: to protect the ducal house, to pour their whole selves into it.

Clause 1-2.

Anyone who uses their status to exert pressure in this place of discipline will be expelled on the spot — and this clause applies even to a member of House Bagrand who comes here to train.

In other words, Karsein was walking himself straight out the door.

'Haah. Why on earth does Captain Radiel...'

Mark heaved another sigh and dragged a hand down his dry face.

The boy had come all this way only to get himself thrown out. Where was the value in believing in this fool to the very end?

'Radiel. That's just your misunderstanding.'

Nothing had changed, no matter what you said. He was the same person he'd been the day he cut you down.

Every trace of his willingness to help had drained away. Mark stopped in his tracks, turning his back to leave—

"Then which will you follow — Lady Arina's prohibition, or the acting Duke's permit of use?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"What is that supposed to—"

"You there. Read it aloud as my representative. If I read it myself, you'd never believe a word of it."

As confusion rippled through the knights, Karsein held out a single sheet of paper. The knight who took it and checked the document swallowed hard, his gaze darting between Karsein and the paper, visibly rattled.

"Everyone looks curious. Go on. Read it."

The flustered knight set his jaw into a sour expression and began reading the contents aloud.

The moment word spread among the knights — that Karsein Bagrand's use of the training grounds had been temporarily permitted, and permitted directly by the Duchess herself, Isabella Bagrand — they erupted into a frenzy of muttering.

"That's impossible. Really?"

"It has to be a lie. The Duchess would never permit this."

"Check the seal. Hurry!"

But the document was no forgery.

The Duchess's unmistakable hand, and the official seal that only the head of House Bagrand could wield — both bore witness, without a shadow of doubt, that Karsein's use of the training grounds had been sanctioned.

Two orders now stood in open conflict.

The ban on Karsein's entry, issued by Arina Bagrand.

The permit for his use, issued by Isabella Bagrand.

And those who served House Bagrand found themselves at an impasse.

Yet the answer, surprisingly, settled itself with ease.

"...There were rumors lately that the young master had gone quiet around the estate. So it seems they were true."

"M-Mark."

Mark shouldered his way through the cluster of knights and spoke.

His first question had never been about throwing around status in the first place.

It had meant this: when two wills within House Bagrand collide — whose order will you follow?

Answering that very question, Mark raised his voice to the knights.

"We are knights devoted to the ducal house. The Duchess's order is the ducal house's order. And yet — how long do you intend to stand here doubting a single sheet of paper?"

The knights, one and all, wanted nothing more than to see Karsein driven out.

But even that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠required proper justification, did it not?

As things stood, Karsein had none whatsoever.

'I let my emotions run the show and failed to judge rightly. That's on me.'

Having admitted his fault to himself, Mark turned and sought Karsein's forgiveness as well.

"I apologize. With old grudges still lingering in every member of the 1st Knight Order, we failed to judge rightly and did nothing but try to throw you out. If you mean to punish me, then as Vice-Captain, I will accept it gladly."

Mark dropped to one knee in a posture of open contrition.

The knights watching him grimaced.

He'd get himself chewed out over this again, surely. The Vice-Captain wouldn't slip out of this one so easily.

Those worries swirled among them in droves.

But the true purpose behind Mark's action was, even now, another test of Karsein.

If those words were nothing but hollow politeness, Karsein was bound to fly into a rage and contradict himself — and Mark fully intended to seize that moment and throw him out personally.

Instead, Karsein swept his gaze across the surroundings, then ordered Mark to rise.

And then—

"I'd prefer there be no next time. Vice-Captain."

He said it with a hand resting on Mark's shoulder.

Faced with Karsein's wholly unexpected conduct, Mark — the man who had laid the trap — found his justification to expel him evaporating.

No. It went further than that. He realized he must not expel him at all.

'He has a purpose. He came here with something in mind.'

As though he had read that very thought, Karsein asked:

"But you're curious what my business is, aren't you?"

"...Yes. I suspect a report will be required, after all."

"I came to this training ground for one reason — to look after my health."

"Your... health?"

"That's right. Cooped up inside the ducal estate all this time, I could feel my body falling apart. That's why I came here. I got Mother's permission for the very same reason."

Not revenge — health?

Mark could only gape at the utterly unforeseen answer.

Karsein, for his part, simply carried on as if it hardly mattered.

"Naturally, I have no intention of breaking the rules of the training ground in the process."

"Don't tell me you mean—"

"The instruction I'd receive from knights who give their all for House Bagrand would be the finest teacher I could ask for. I intend to train, same as anyone else here."

Karsein declared that he would be staying for the time being.

"...Do you mean that sincerely?"

"What reason would I have to lie?"

A fresh undercurrent of murmuring spread through the knights once more.

The suspicion had clearly not yet lifted.

But to Mark alone, those words landed with an entirely different weight.

"Can you teach me that too?"

The young master had been exactly like this as a child.

Whenever he received instruction, he never once brandished his status.

He only ever asked: can you do it?

And nothing had changed since.

One should never begin with suspicion over whom a person serves. Ask what they came to do, what they set their sights on — press them about the true meaning of that old incident later, and it would still be soon enough.

Perhaps that was why Radiel had never blamed Karsein, either.

'It wouldn't hurt to give him a chance. At the very least, that much.'

Steadying the tangle of feelings inside him, Mark admitted Karsein into the training grounds.

"Understood. You've said your piece — so you'd best steel yourself for what's coming."

Though forgiveness, of course, was another matter entirely.

With quarters assigned by Mark himself, I found myself the owner of a rather small room.

"You did ask to be treated as one of the knights, so you'll be using a trainee's room. Any objections?"

None, obviously.

Only that it had sat unused for quite a while, and the dust had piled up accordingly.

It was, after all, a trainee's room — barely enough space to lie down and unpack, falling well short of even the annex. But I had never needed a grand room in the first place.

"A big room just means a bigger floor to clean for nothing."

Once the cleaning was done, I finally had a little breathing room.

I opened the Status Window first thing.

"So the worst of it is behind me."

By choosing to persuade Mark, the Vice-Captain, I had somehow made it through the most dangerous moment.

Plenty of gray boxes remained, but as Vice-Captain of the 1st Knight Order, he would hold the line properly where it counted.

"And this news will reach Emma's ears soon enough."

She would be plenty rattled.

Words like payment documents, embezzlement, and ledgers had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠already come out of my mouth — and now I had gone and planted myself directly at the training grounds.

Once word traveled her way, it wouldn't be long before that impatience of hers came straight to me, in person.

"Whew."

I let out a long, heavy breath and finished unpacking.

Then my gaze drifted toward the item I had prepared in advance.

Tomorrow, life at the training grounds would begin in earnest.

Surely, within the knight order, there would be open movement to drive me out.

Having noticed as much, I needed to prepare my response ahead of time.

But.

"Not yet."

Muttering those words, I tucked the item away into my bag — not the trainee's pouch.

This had to be saved for the moment I could seize a certain, unmistakable opportunity.

Not merely to turn the mood around.

After that, I finished putting my things in order and went to sleep early.