One More Fanatic
I woke up in bed. Last night, I'd tossed the spy's corpse into the Valtar Viscount's garden. The distance between our two border territories was about two hours on foot, but I'd made the round trip in fifteen minutes.
"Hm."
I stretched.
Title: Feared Even by Family
Still all 999s.
I grinned.
Today, let's take a stroll through the territory's town. For three years after transmigrating, I'd only trained, so I hadn't properly explored the place. No one would complain about the second son taking a walk around the territory.
Not that there was anyone to answer to anyway.
I entered the town center.
The Berghart Viscountcy was fairly prosperous for a border territory. There was a market, merchants, people on the streets. The usual scenery of an ordinary territory.
But as I passed by, that scenery froze.
"...Y-Young master?"
A matron browsing a vegetable stall spotted me and stiffened. People began gathering in the middle of the market. Everyone stopped. The news that Cayenne von Berghart had appeared in the market spread through the crowd faster than light.
As I walked to the center, the people parted to either side like the Red Sea. No one told them to—it just happened. They bowed their heads on their own. They averted their eyes on their own.
I couldn't help but laugh.
Three years ago, right after transmigrating, when the original Cayenne had come to the market, no one had given him a second glance. It was just, "Oh, the wastrel second son's out causing trouble again."
Some market merchant had even charged double for the apples Cayenne bought. The incompetent second son had been an easy mark.
Not anymore.
"Pick me some fruit."
I stopped at the first fruit stall I saw and spoke.
The stall owner turned pale. An old man who looked about sixty. His hands shook so badly he dropped an apple six times.
"Y-Young master. J-Just take it. No charge."
"No."
"B-But..."
"I'll pay. Pick some."
"......"
The old man's trembling got worse. Even though I said I'd pay.
Damn, this is annoying. All this fuss over buying an apple.
I grabbed three apples myself and tossed a single coin onto the stall.
"This enough?"
"Y-Yes! More than enough! Overflowing!"
The old man took the coin with a face like he was about to burst into tears. Buying three apples for one coin would've been a scam in a normal market, but this old man looked grateful—not for pulling one over on me, but for not killing him.
I bit into an apple and kept walking.
Behind me, I heard the townsfolk sighing in relief.
It was near the end of the market.
"Hey."
Someone called from behind.
"Hey, you. Cayenne."
There weren't many in the territory who could call my name so casually. Family, or other nobles. The family's all trembling at home right now, so it had to be the latter.
I turned.
A man in his mid-twenties. Flashy coat. Sword at his waist. Two servants trailing behind.
Hm.
I rummaged through my memory.
The third son of the neighboring viscountcy. Forgot his name. An extra who doesn't even get a single line in the original story. One of the guys who'd always dismissed Cayenne as the "incompetent second son."
"Long time no see, Cayenne. Hearing you're doing pretty hot these days?"
The man sneered.
"Strutting around the territory just 'cause you've trained a bit. Making the townsfolk tremble. What a disgrace."
"......"
"Not befitting a border territory second son."
I took another bite of the apple. Chewed slowly. Swallowed completely before opening my mouth.
"Who the hell are you?"
"...What?"
"What's your name?"
The man's face twisted.
"Hey, Cayenne. You pretending not to know me? We've been in the same place plenty of times."
"Don't remember."
It was true. The original Cayenne's memories before transmigration were spotty, and after, I had zero interest in extras like this.
"This fucking—"
The man reached for his sword hilt.
That was it.
I lightly tossed the apple in my hand.
The man froze mid-draw. The apple was embedded in his forehead. Embedded. That was the most accurate word. Half the apple had sunk into his skull.
He toppled backward.
Thud.
His two servants went pale.
"M-Mercy—!"
"Take him and go."
I waved them off.
"He won't die, so pull the apple out of his forehead and get him to a healer. He'll probably live."
The two servants nodded frantically and dragged their fallen master away. The market crowd was all frozen.
I just bought another apple and ate it.
"...Tasty."
I returned home.
As I entered the gate, Mother was waiting. She looked unwell. Word of me smashing a guy with an apple in the market—only three hours ago—had already reached the house. Our family's intel is fast.
"C-Cayenne."
Mother said, trembling.
"Yes."
"Let's... talk for a moment."
Mother led me to the drawing room. Father was there too. He looked unwell as well.
We sat.
Father barely managed to speak.
"Cayenne. We've been getting a lot of... guests in the territory lately."
"Guests?"
"Th-Those... rough types."
He meant the spies and assassins from Valtar Viscount. The family must've noticed after I handled one at dawn yesterday. I'd dumped the body in their garden, but there'd be bloodstains left in our house.
"So."
Father swallowed.
"We're assigning you a knight as a guard."
"......"
Me? Needing a guard? With all 999s this year? Swordsmanship at 999 needing a guard?
It was just noble family politics.
The intent was obvious, so I laughed again.
"Got it. Who?"
I replied lightly.
Father's eyes widened slightly. He'd expected me to refuse. Refusing would've scared them again. I clearly saw the relief on his face that I didn't.
"Vice-Captain Veritas."
"Veritas?"
"Knight order vice-captain. The captain... after swearing loyalty to you, has essentially been replaced by her in duties."
Ah.
Last month, I'd sparred with the captain once. He'd begged for just one move. I showed him one, and he knelt right there, pledging loyalty.
I'd brushed it off with "Yeah, sure," but apparently, after that, the captain had basically abandoned the family for me. So the vice-captain was handling captain duties administratively.
"Come in!"
Father shouted.
The drawing room door opened, and one person entered.
A woman.
Black bob hair. Gray eyes. Tall. A head taller than me. White armor. Sword at her waist. Expression stoic.
She knelt on one knee.
"Vice-Captain Veritas. Appointed as Young Master's guard."
Her voice was cold and firm. Zero loyalty to me. Purely dutiful tone. Probably laced with annoyance at guarding the wastrel second son. Nice.
Finally, someone who doesn't tremble.
"Rise."
I said.
Veritas stood. Looked down at me. Due to the height difference, but her gaze definitely carried a hint of "What the hell does this wastrel want?"
Yeah.
Been a while since I've seen eyes like that.
"Finally, a human who doesn't shake."
"......"
"Veritas, want me to teach you a move?"
I said, standing.
Veritas's brow furrowed slightly. The wastrel second son offering to teach her swordsmanship? She'd be pissed. Probably thinking "This arrogant bastard" inside. But duty called. She replied politely.
"...An honor, Young Master."
The backyard training grounds.
Veritas drew her sword.
A blade gleaming white. A finely crafted named sword befitting the family vice-captain. She took stance. Textbook perfect. Flawless. The Berghart Knight Order vice-captain wasn't vice for nothing.
"Come at me, Young Master."
Veritas said. Polite tone, but her expression said "Let's see how badly you flail."
I didn't draw my sword. Just walked forward.
"...?"
Veritas looked puzzled. Young Master not drawing? What's this wastrel's next stunt?
"No sword?"
"Don't need it."
"......"
Veritas's face hardened. She'd taken it as an insult. Facing the Berghart vice-captain barehanded. I could almost hear her pride cracking.
"Come at me."
Her voice cooled.
I approached slowly.
She swung. Textbook horizontal slash. Vice-captain speed. A hundred regular knights couldn't dodge it.
I raised my hand.
Thumb and index finger.
Two fingers caught her blade.
"...?!"
Veritas's eyes widened.
I held her sword and met her eyes.
"Veritas. Is this your limit?"
And then.
I squeezed my fingers slightly.
Crack.
The named sword snapped between two fingers. Half clattered to the ground.
Veritas froze, gripping the broken hilt.
Her gray eyes trembled faintly.
She slowly knelt. Both knees this time.
Not out of duty. Willingly.
"...Young Master."
Her voice shook.
"What are you?"
"What am I?"
I tossed the broken half back to her.
"That's for you to figure out your whole life."
Veritas received the broken sword with both hands. Like it was a holy relic.
I laughed.
She's a fanatic now.