Chapter 17
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: Black Cat
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"From now on, I'll be the first to eat the young master's food!"
It was a firm declaration.
Her usual drawn-out speech pattern remained the same, but the resolve contained within was utterly serious.
"Permission denied."
I waved my hand dismissively.
Lize took a step closer.
Her silver hair swayed. The eye hidden behind her eyepatch was staring straight at me.
"I deny your denial! You saw it, didn't you? I'll check first if there's poison, and only if it's fine will you eat it, young master!"
She wasn't some palace taster. I had no desire to assign her that role.
"You're an Enhanced Human, so you have resistance to poison?"
I asked, clinging to a sliver of hope.
"...No."
"Then you'd die too."
"Even so!"
"There are plenty of other ways besides such extreme measures. For example, there's an artifact that detects poison. It's expensive, but obtainable. Or..."
I trailed off.
Use less important servants. I couldn't bring myself to say it aloud.
Lize tilted her head as if she'd caught on, but she didn't press further.
"...Honestly, I don't get it."
"What don't you get?"
"I never thought my brother would go this far."
I meant it.
Among the bastards in this mansion, I was the first to bow my head to Ernst.
While the others were slyly trying to climb the ladder, I played the role of a thoroughly harmless bookworm.
Everything went off the rails the moment I received my commission.
Breaking Duke Sylvesta's 300-year unbeaten streak in chess must have been the finishing blow.
"How about confronting Lord Ernst head-on while you're at it?"
"Slim chance of winning. There are plenty of bastards who spout off, 'Father made it on his own, so why not me?'... but they all met bad ends."
If they were lucky, instant death. If not, a life of lingering as a cripple. Father watched it all without lifting a finger.
And he had reason to.
The bastards mistook themselves for promising talents, but they wouldn't catch Father's eye.
'Knight Slayer' Walter von Krushtein.
The 'hero' who reached Swordmaster before forty and butchered the anti-emperor faction, including two dukes, during the civil war. Records show the caliber of talent that meets his standards.
Father and most Swordmasters were Experts by fifteen at the latest, sixteen otherwise. A level most promising knights barely hit at twenty.
They think they can surpass big brother with talent alone, but none of this mansion's bastards have that timber. And Ernst's swordsmanship isn't lacking either.
But the great Duke Walter was as prolific in lust as he was in martial prowess. Bastards aplenty, still growing in number, and he didn't care for their fates.
In other words...
My life was mine to guard.
Dinner time.
Lize really tasted my food first.
"Tastes good. No poison either."
"What's your criterion for judgment?"
"I didn't die."
Impossible to argue.
It was logically sound.
Though something felt fundamentally off.
After finishing the meal, I returned to my room.
A black cat sat on the windowsill.
"...Why are you here again?"
The cat stared at me silently.
Its gaze held an oddly intelligent glint.
"...Thanks for earlier. You saved my life."
I said it sincerely.
The cat slowly blinked.
Feline affirmation, or so I'd heard somewhere, maybe.
"Stay if you want. I won't chase you off."
I pulled a book from the shelf and began reading.
It was a gift from Duke Sylvesta.
But glancing at the titles, they were all treatises on strategy.
Ancient Empire Strategies, History of Siege Warfare, Cavalry Tactics...
Of course, House Krushtein's library had its share of strategy books.
But Father wasn't the type to collect them.
For good reason.
Father was far from the 'famed generals' in those books.
Not that he was weak.
Even in my past world's realm of mere slightly-enhanced humans, a well-trained cavalry charge was unstoppable if you knew it was coming.
How much more a medium cavalry charge led by a Swordmaster in this world?
No answer.
Charge straight through enemy lines and take the enemy's head. That was Father's way of war.
Strategy? Tactics?
Weaklings needed those.
Thus, the library's strategy section was rather narrow.
Grateful for Duke Sylvesta's gift, but...
Hm.
I scanned the titles again.
This one strategy. That one too.
All strategy books.
"..."
Was Duke Sylvesta planning to turn me into a military history expert?
I'd been promised entry to the history department, so why only strategy books?
I pondered as I flipped through.
Or... was there another intent?
I read for a while like that.
"Is that book interesting?"
"Bit of a mess."
Honest impression.
Written by a famous knight, it seemed widely read, but every line felt off-kilter.
Not all 'classics' in strategy were correct.
Even in my past life, books existed where armchair scholars who'd never led troops spouted nonsense about formations based on the I Ching.
Sure, Art of War or On War were solid even among civilians, but among surviving books—and the countless lost ones—plenty peddled drivel as doctrine.
This book screamed that type.
"See here. 'When the enemy's morale is high, crush their momentum with a frontal assault.' Sounds right, doesn't it?"
Lize peered over my shoulder.
"No, wrong. Frontal assault against high morale? Ours breaks. Obvious. Standard is evade or exhaust when they're pumped. Like we did—waited till the orcs charged excitedly into the ravine."
"Ahh..."
"And here. 'Cavalry always superior to infantry.' Wrong. Terrain-dependent. What do cavalry do in swamps or forests? Drown or get unhorsed."
Lize's single eye widened more and more.
"Amazing!"
That eye sparkled.
"..."
I realized I'd spoken out of turn.
What had I done.
A ten-year-old critiquing a knight-author?
Even so... maybe okay.
This guy, knight or not, lived a peaceful life to ripe old age without a single war.
Compared to that, I'd beaten 500 orcs, right?
Though the plan was Lize's, still better than zero campaigns.
"Young master really is a genius."
"...Overpraise."
Genius.
Just a past-life trivia nerd.
Bingeing war docuseries, studying strategy in games, lurking history forums when bored. Average otaku.
"Still, gotta keep reading. Gotta read to spot the flaws."
I turned the page.
Next one garbage too.
Night raids cowardly; knights shouldn't use.
"Fuck..."
Waste of time.
I shut the book.
"Bedtime."
"Yes. Good night."
Lize headed for the door.
"Where to?"
"Guarding the front."
"...Sleep inside."
"No. Don't know who might come."
No use arguing.
Lize settled right outside the door, in the hall.
I sighed and lay down.
The cat remained on the sill.
"Staying there all night?"
The cat stared silently.
"...Fine. Do as you like."
I closed my eyes.
I just wanted to live quietly...
Sleep came.
Swoosh.
A faint wind roused me.
Dawn.
Window open.
I'd closed it.
Heart raced.
Slowly turned my head.
Shadow by the bed.
Black-clad figure. Face cloth-covered.
Dagger gleamed coldly in moonlight.
Needed to breathe, throat clogged.
Scream, mouth frozen.
Dagger rose slowly, so slowly.
Assassin's eyes visible through cloth. Emotionless. Executioner's gaze.
'Ah, I'm dying.'
Flash of thought.
Dagger fell.
World slowed.
Blade sliced air.
But...
Thud.
Pillow tore. Feathers scattered.
"...What?"
I and assassin froze.
Aimed for my neck.
"Magic item?"
Assassin muttered, voice laced with dismay.
Dagger rose again.
Faster. Surer.
As I tried to yell.
Bang!
Window burst open.
Wind poured in.
No, not wind.
Black shadow lightning-struck the assassin.
Small, fast, lethal something.
"Guhk!"
Assassin staggered.
Something atop his back.
No, someone.
Moonlight lit her form.
No longer cat.
Brown-skinned girl. Black hair.
A girl.
Her hands gripped assassin's jaw, other on nape.
Snap.
Dull sound.
Too simple.
Assassin's body rag-dolled to floor.
Neck twisted unnaturally.
Silence fell.
Feathers drifted slowly.
Girl rose from corpse.
Barefoot.
Soundless.
Moonlight outlined her.
Black hair cascaded past shoulders.
Slim build. Black clothes. Catlike poise.
Blue eyes looked down at me.
"That cat from before?"
First words out, she grinned.
"Right nya~"
"...Catfolk?"
"Precisely, Catfolk half-breed. And the important part... I'm a bastard daughter of House Krushtein too."
Brain stalled.
Krushtein bastard daughter.
That meant.
"..."
She lifted my chin with fingertip.
The same hand that snapped the assassin's neck.
"We're siblings, little master."