The Troublemaker of the Training Grounds (3)

Even as the dead of night settled in, Emma could not bring herself to fall asleep in her solitary cell.

She was incapable of sleeping, to be exact.

Because of what had happened that evening.

Karsein had appeared out of nowhere and brought up the embezzlement, point for point, without a single misstep.

It went without saying that this should have been impossible.

How on earth could Karsein know any of it?

He was nothing more than a commoner who had been shut away in his room, unable to even step outside, eating garbage scraps of food. Gossip like that should never have reached his ears.

That was precisely the problem.

What exactly did Karsein know, and how had he gathered that information? Emma could not begin to fathom it.

Confused, she clutched her aching ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠head.

If the mistress had known money was leaking from her own coffers, she would have been informed long ago. Word would have reached me that the treasury staff were being investigated, too.

But nothing of the sort had happened.

Which meant Karsein had, at the very least, kept this information to himself...

He knew it all with pinpoint accuracy.

Exactly where the money allocated to Karsein Bagrand flowed from, and exactly where it went.

Damn it all...! How on earth...!

Karsein's final words made Emma's whole body shudder.

It was true — an urgent matter had forced her to divert funds.

But to leave a flaw in a ledger that was supposed to be flawless... No matter that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her opponent was Karsein, this could no longer be brushed aside as a mere oversight by the head maid.

He was almost certainly holding direct evidence of the duchy's embezzlement.

She had to escape this cell, and quickly.

Yet by the time she managed it, it would already be too late.

I have no choice...!

Tap tap.

"Hey. Guard. Might I have a word with you?"

"Huh?"

When Emma rapped on the bars, the guard appeared.

Just as she had expected, he was one of the guardsmen who recognized her.

"Could you summon someone for me? These men, from the 1st Knight Order."

"Summon who? You're under confinement right now. Visits are only permitted during interrogation — have you forgotten?"

"Of course I know that. But even I can have urgent business back home, can't I?"

Emma flashed a smile and drew out the gold coins she had hidden in her pocket.

"A request from the head maid herself. Take it, and look the other way."

"Wh—huh? Well, I mean... that's not exactly..."

"Don't worry. All I intend to ask is that a letter be delivered. For something like this, it's best to approach knights who already know my face. Hence the summons."

"Ahehm... well, if that's all it is..."

Drooling over the gold coins, the guard glanced ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠back and forth between the head maid and her money, then accepted the bribe and went to fetch someone.

The guard slipped away, and before long, a single knight appeared.

"What on earth is this about? At this hour of the night."

"No one around, I trust?"

"No, ma'am. Naturally. It's not as though we advertise our meetings."

At those words, Emma swallowed hard and got to the point.

"Karsein. How has that wretch been faring?"

Ever since the man had gone out and come back, something had felt deeply off.

After his conversation with his fiancée, he had somehow realized the letters had been vanishing all this time — she needed to know exactly what he had been up to.

"Ah. I was just about to tell you that very thing."

"Yes?"

"Karsein — he came to the training grounds. No idea what the hell he's thinking."

Emma's heart plummeted.

"K-Karsein came to the training grounds?!"

"Gah! Why are you suddenly shouting?"

"..."

Emma gripped the bars and trembled.

Could it be... could he really know something?

She had been so certain it was impossible.

She was sure she'd deceived him perfectly. Absolutely certain she would never be caught.

The embezzlement, and now the knights — he had brought up her every touchpoint with them. And to top it all off, he was actually going to the training grounds himself?

Without warning, a surge of dread welled up in Emma's mind.

There was no time left.

"...Drive him out."

"Ma'am?"

"By any means necessary — drive him out of the training grounds. Smear him with whatever accusations you like; the moment I'm out of this cell, I'll shield you! And every single day, you come report to me exactly what he's been doing!"

At that, the knight smirked and formed a round circle with his thumb and index finger.

"A shield is one thing, but what I really need is one of these, Head Maid."

"You...!"

"Tormenting a recruit among the knights is easy enough — all it takes is stirring up opinion. But the reporting you're asking for is considerably more laborious. You understand?"

Even after pocketing her money, the man's greed was on full display.

Watching a knight, of all people, flaunt his shameless hunger for coin, Emma ground her teeth.

But it was an emergency. She had no choice.

"Fine. I'll double his usual share."

"Triple it and we have a deal. Double's a bit thin."

At the knight's leisurely display — picking at his ear, no less — Emma snapped.

"Fine! Fine! You'll get what you want, so make sure you drive that wretch out of the training grounds. Understood?!"

"Confirmed, ma'am. Do be careful not to renege on me later~."

Whistling, the man wore the smug expression of a man who had struck a windfall.

Never mind that. As long as I can drive out the one man who knows the truth.

Once he'd bitten onto her tail, he had to be removed.

Even if the fallout of that removal proved more than she could bear.

Karsein Bagrand.

To Emma, he had become someone who could no longer be permitted to remain in the ducal house.

It was winter.

The season when a single gust of icy wind set the whole body shivering, when no one wanted to leave the warmth of a snug blanket and venture outdoors.

And yet heat was blazing through every inch of the boy's body.

He ran on two burning legs through the center of the field, drenched head to toe in sweat, circling the training grounds without pause.

"Looked like he couldn't keep up from the very start, but he's still going? Anyone know how many laps he has left?"

"Five, I think. Once he finishes that lap he's on, four."

"At that pace... hmm. He'll be at it a few more minutes yet."

The knights traded remarks as they watched Karsein.

"..."

Mark, the first to finish his own laps long ago, kept his eyes fixed steadily on the boy.

What Karsein was attempting was, in principle, impossible.

It was routine for full knights, and probationary knights thought nothing of it. At worst, it was somewhat demanding for apprentices — but even they had trained their bodies since childhood.

It was by enduring that very regimen that they had completed their induction period and risen from trainee to apprentice knight.

For a noble young master, however, it was far beyond his reach.

Doubly so for nobles who had never once exerted themselves, or whose long inactivity had left their bodies all but immobile.

Proper protocol calls for the intensity to be scaled down drastically, precisely so it doesn't break the body...

And yet Karsein refused to give up.

His untrained body lagged far behind the knights' — and still he pushed on.

Carrying out training at an intensity physically beyond him — and still he pushed on.

...And that's not all there is to it.

Mark's gaze slid subtly to the left.

When Karsein, four laps remaining, halted briefly at the starting line to catch his breath, a crowd of them sneered openly at the staggering boy.

"Heh heh. Serves you right. Go on, suffer for it!"

"Guess all those years groveling in the dirt built up some stamina — the wretch is actually holding on?"

"How long can holding on last? He charged into a knight's daily regimen like it was nothing. Even back when he first came here, he never once trained alongside us."

"Exactly. That's why his legs were wobbling this morning too. If he's this far gone after only two days, he'll drop out in no time."

Had the difficulty of the training merely outpaced his body, he might have endured it. But the knights were taking secret revenge on Karsein mid-workout.

Slamming shoulders as they shoved past him.

Swinging their arms in exaggerated arcs to strike his flank.

Shouldering him roughly out of the way under the pretense that he was in their path.

He was suffering physical and psychological pressure on top of training intensity far above his level. Past the first day, past the second — this was day three.

"Mark, which side are you on?"

A fellow knight came over and asked him.

In his hand was a betting board, wagers scribbled on how long Karsein would last.

"Why are you lot doing this?"

"Oh come on, it's fun. Everyone goes through rough treatment during the hazing anyway."

Strictly speaking, the bet was whether Karsein could fill out the full seven-day induction period.

The drinking-party wager hung entirely on that stretch of time.

It was an ugly custom, no question — but even Mark, as vice-captain, lacked the standing to stop it.

No. Perhaps letting it run its course is the better play after all.

If the young master — that coddled, despised boy — stood there and endured the entire week before eyes full of resentment...

If he could turn the impossible into the possible...

Then at the very least, the shadow of suspicion hanging over him could be lifted.

The odds overwhelmingly favored failure. Since virtually no one had bet on him completing the induction at all, the wagers had been divided by how many days he would last — and the single most popular guess was: tomorrow.

Mark stared at the dismal odds, then turned his head back toward Karsein.

Hah... hah... hah!

All he could see was the unsteady boy still running, dragging in ragged breaths no matter where he looked. And yet —

Swoosh.

"Huh? You're serious about this?"

"I can't believe it. Mark's the underdog bet..."

"It's not like that, you bastards!"

Even as he became the laughingstock of his fellow knights, Karsein had never once uttered a single complaint — and that was what had driven Mark's hand to the long shot.

"This is for the drinking party, you know. You sure about this?"

"Just betting for fun, aren't we?"

"Well, true enough, but. Don't come crying later when I win it all, yeah? Heh heh."

The knight beside him was making a very clear busted gesture, as if to say no one should ever bet this badly against the odds.

"You said you wanted to train the way we do, and this is all it takes to wind you?!"

"Ah, Mark, you sneaky bastard."

"Heh heh. Leave him be. Money's on the line."

Three laps remained. When the order rang out across the training grounds — get moving again — Karsein, who had stopped, snapped his head up.

His face said he wanted to die, but even so, he wiped away the sweat pouring down him and set his legs in motion once more.

And so, Karsein completed the run.

"Damn, that kid's tough as old leather. He actually finished the whole thing."

"Yes! Tonight's drinking party's gonna be grand, paid for by all you losers!"

"I only bet one day further out... tch. Why does he have that kind of grit?"

"Honestly, he's no help at all. No help."

Thus he gritted his teeth and saw the third day of training through to the end.

Gasping for breath, he collapsed flat on his back across the field.

That's right. You have to see at least this much from me.

Only then did the question become worth asking.

Only with that much grit behind me does anyone bother to wonder why I did it.

Why, Radiel — why are you trying to cover for me?

What exactly happened that day?

"Hhaah... hah."

Having finished the final tenth lap, I lay flat on my back on the training grounds, gasping.

My jaw wouldn't close. Something was drooling out of the corner of my mouth — so watery I honestly couldn't tell if it was saliva or just water.

This is killing me!

I'd braced myself for grueling days, but who knew they'd impose a full knight's training regimen on a mere trainee?

Every single day now, my whole body ached like it was full of stones. As I lay there feeling the soreness settle in, I couldn't help dreading what fresh backlash tomorrow morning would bring.

Well... still. This is right.

The status window now listed fatigue and breathlessness among my current conditions, but they posed no serious threat — and what stood out was that my stats were climbing in meaningful increments.

This frail, sickly body of Karsein's was growing. And above all, it was pulling away from the failing-health bad ending.

Of course, that wasn't the end of it.

The moment Karsein failed to endure more than half of the seven-day induction period, Mark Redeltain's affinity would never recover from the negative.

The only person in the entire training grounds whose hostility toward Karsein was milder than the rest — and if I couldn't even hold onto him, access to the training grounds would naturally become impossible.

So having crossed the third day, I could breathe a little easier now...

The longer I endured, the better the rewards became. I couldn't afford to give up.

You might think, surely it's fine to skip a day or two if it's that brutal — but the rewards from the training grounds were nothing to take lightly.

They were tied directly to the Dead Triggers.

That reason alone made it necessary to see the full training period through.

But the thing I had dreaded from the moment I first set foot on the training grounds had come to pass.

Damn it. I wondered why Karsein's HP kept draining every time he took a hit in this minigame — now I know.

My flank, which I'd failed to dodge yet again, throbbed dully.

Karsein in the game could dodge anything with enough analysis. But now that the body was real, it simply wouldn't move that way.

Given Emma's scheming, I'd fully anticipated people coming to pressure me. But even the knights with open, naked disdain for Karsein were tangled up in the crowd's sentiment, and the experience hit harder than I'd expected.

Well enough that I finally understood why the HP bar used to drain so fast every time game-Karsein took a hit.

Naturally, I couldn't keep this up.

If this were ordinary training, I might have gritted my teeth and pushed on — it would still beat juggling part-time jobs and schoolwork. But with physical torment layered on top, any further was genuinely dangerous.

With pain in the mix, no amount of willpower could guarantee I'd survive the remaining four days without dropping out first.

And if that happened, it would be game over.

The bad ending — my death. The end.

But that was not going to happen.

"Hm? Someone else is coming."

"Wait — don't tell me that's..."

"Hck...!"

At the sight of a figure walking in through the main gate, the snickering knights broke out in cold sweat and scrambled to their positions.

"F-first squad, fall in!"

Apprentice and probationary knights went without saying — not even the full knights were exempt.

In this moment, every one of them had to be a knight of House Bagrand, and nothing else.

"Salute!"

At Vice-Captain Mark's command, the knights lined up in formation.

There she is.

Because I had raised her affinity high enough, today's harassment — the torment that should have followed this training — would proceed no further.

But this was precisely as far as it should go.

Filtering my ragged breaths through my teeth, I hauled my sprawled body upright.

The woman, brushing past the assembled knights, spotted my state and quickened her pace.

When Isabella drew close enough, she gasped in horror.

Naturally she would.

The son of House Bagrand, reduced to this state from training himself into the ground.

"Is this how you honor your duty — training him until he reaches this state?"

Face twisted with fury, Isabella drove a spike of dread into the knights.

They sensed the duchess's wrath coming and screwed their eyes shut.

Scathing rebuke and heavy punishment alike were certain to follow, without fail.

Which meant this very moment was my golden opportunity.

"How can men who call themselves knights subject their own kin to training of improper inten—"

"It was what I asked for."

"...What did you say?"

"This training — I chose it myself. I am enduring it because I wished to."

The instant I made my choice, the shock draining from Isabella's face gave way to confusion —

And the status window finally announced that Mark's affinity had returned to a white box.