Building Merit (1)
The war would end soon.
All we had to do was hold the garrison.
Even the noble lords lounging comfortably in the rear positions said as much. Our forces on the eastern front were racking up victory after victory, advancing on the barbarians' capital — so the enemy, they claimed, was forcing a desperate breakthrough toward ours out of sheer necessity.
They had dragged hundreds of conscripts from their territories and brought dozens of knights to protect themselves. Counts, viscounts, marquises. The various nobles boasted that no matter how strong the enemy was, they would never break through this place.
What had originally been a fallback position had become a garrison, and here the well-connected nobles threw parties every night as if they had come to a social salon rather than a battlefield. I overheard them drinking inside their tents, saying that even if the enemy attacked, they could always run.
"There are plenty of loyal nobles like Köln. Just send them." That was what some immature young heir of a count's house had said.
"...Hah."
I truly hadn't known. That there were this many troops. Why had we been forced to fight the barbarians on the front lines with so few people?
Why did Köln have to die? What about Saint-Denis? Freiden? Old man Rascal? Why had the conscripts and the knights and the mercenaries staked their lives defending that place?
...Lediche.
The one hit hardest was probably Lediche.
A girl who had come to the battlefield alone despite being a noble had learned of her father's death within a single day. She had heard of the deaths of the family knights and mercenaries who had always teased her and smiled at her so warmly. She had learned that her friend Rubiru had grown frail. And she had been forced to look upon the scars carved into my back, my abdomen, every part of my body — scars that would never fade.
Moreover, though Lediche had been dragged to the battlefield with a baron's rank, she had no knights with her. She must have left them behind in the Rueshatia Territory.
There was no one at her side. Save for Rubiru and me, truly no one at all.
I may not have had a deep relationship with Lediche, but I couldn't help caring. I had lost Sister Flora myself, so I understood all the more. I had experience putting on a strong face when I couldn't cry, so it hurt all the more.
In the mornings I looked after Rubiru, and if she said she wanted to move even a little, I taught her a bit of dagger technique. Then, when afternoon came, I always headed for Lediche's tent. Today was no different.
I confirmed that Rubiru was sleeping soundly. Even if God would not listen, I offered a prayer that she would recover soon before leaving the tent.
The nobles' tents were all hung with dazzling decorations, all heavily guarded — but Lediche's tent was different.
Unlike the other nobles, there were no guards posted outside, and the tent wasn't tall. No wooden crates of fruit or provisions lined the front, no carpet to wipe one's feet on when entering. Lower, narrower, a shabby tent that received no support of any kind. That was Lediche's tent.
"...Lady Lediche, I'll be coming in."
Lediche always greeted me with a smile, but today was a little different. She looked haggard somehow, and the skin beneath her eyes was red and swollen. Today was another day the nobles had been drinking. If there was anywhere trouble would arise, it was only that place — where her status as the young head of a baronial house forced her to show her face whether she wanted to or not.
"...Riel."
Lediche looked at me and tried to force a smile, but she couldn't manage it. Her lips would start to curve up only to fall again, and her eyes, trying to form crescents, squeezed shut instead.
"...Our dad—. Ah, no. Father fought bravely, didn't he...? He did, right...? He didn't die fighting like a fool, a-ah, he didn't... right...?"
Thud—.
It felt as though something heavy had struck the back of my head. Had she overheard the nobles spewing their disgusting talk about Köln?
"...I know better than anyone that Baron Köln fought with honor. Who the hell... brought up Baron Köln's name?"
Insulting Köln meant insulting Lediche. It meant insulting Rubiru, whom Köln had protected with his life, and insulting me. It meant insulting the dead comrades, the knights and mercenaries who had thrown away their lives for their lord even while leaving families behind. When I asked back in a tone that had gone hard without my realizing it, Lediche turned her head away.
"...No, I'm sorry. Riel. I brought up something pointless."
Instead, she came closer and gripped my hand tightly.
"...Please don't leave me either, Riel. I don't want to be left alone."
We hadn't particularly grown close, and nothing had fundamentally changed from the relationship of a lord to be served and a soldier — yet it didn't feel awkward. When you got down to it, we had each saved the other's life once. I understood that for Lediche, on the battlefield where her father had been killed, the only people she could lean on were Rubiru and me. The way she held it in, the way she came to me saying she was sorry and gripped my hand — it must have been because she was scared. Because she was afraid.
"Baron Köln was worried about you, Lady Lediche. So...."
Conversely, right now I had no one either, save for Rubiru and Lediche. The only two people I could rely on and lean on were them.
Baron Köln had said it might become a shackle, that I might end up indebted to Rueshatia. He had been exactly right. I hadn't spoken much with them, and I'd even harbored my own share of resentment toward Rueshatia.
"...I'll protect you. You don't have to pretend to be strong anymore."
I found myself naturally saying I would protect the young head of Rueshatia.
"...Hic—."
It seemed Lediche really had been crying. Tears that formed with unnatural speed streamed down her cheeks. Because she was gripping my hand so tightly, I couldn't wipe them away.
Rhea, Ceria, Claudia. Whenever the three of them cried, I always held them.
When you're sad, you're cold no matter how warmly you dress, and hungry no matter how full your stomach. What was the harm in simply sharing warmth? We were lord and soldier, but we were as good as friends, and each of us was the other's benefactor.
"H-hwaaaah—...."
I pulled Lediche close and held her very carefully. I patted her back.
Lediche set aside her role as young house head and sobbed like a child. She cried and cried for a long time, and only after she had calmed down did she pull away.
It might have been an imposition, but from that day on we came to stay near Lediche's tent. More precisely, she used her noble authority to have another tent erected beside her own for us to live in.
On the grounds that her "friend" Rubiru should be able to rest more comfortably, and that she had sometimes seen us being harassed by other nobles.
It was Lediche's consideration in her own way, but it was something that would earn the soldiers' jealousy. Lediche's tent may have been shabby compared to other nobles', but compared to a private soldier's, it was far superior.
When the three of us gathered, we would laugh talking about things that had happened with Rubiru at the Academy. When day broke, we held meetings about the war situation, and I left for training.
And on days when Köln suddenly came to mind, Lediche would sob — and after checking on Rubiru, who had fallen asleep early because she wasn't well, I would move to Lediche's tent to look after her. The soldiers who saw this spoke with jealousy.
"That noble Lediche must've given her body to that commoner, huh?"
"She was bawling her eyes out."
Disgusting, filthy talk like that. As the rumors spread among the soldiers, they naturally reached the nobles' ears as well. Even while receiving the nobles' vulgar jokes and contemptuous stares, Lediche wore a smile on her lips like a fool.
Still, she said, because of the rumor that she was involved with a commoner, the noble men weren't making advances. So please don't get angry. She was terrified that even I might leave — that neither Rubiru nor she herself had anyone to lean on except me.
Three months since Baron Köln had fallen in battle. Just because the front had been quiet for a mere three months, we had become objects of mockery to amuse the bored nobles.
I no longer fought to become a squad leader like before, or to win sparring matches for the sake of results. I fought halfheartedly and forfeited halfheartedly.
Even when I heard mockery that I'd let the baron die, even when I was insulted as a cripple who'd run away, I endured it. Because Lediche worried, and Rubiru worried. If I performed well in sparring and got assigned to special missions, I'd have to go where the barbarians' main forces were concentrated — to the place where Köln had been killed — and then I might die. That was why they held me back.
When the barbarians attacked, someone would have to fight regardless of status anyway. Revenge could wait until then. At the very least, that was my plan until Rubiru recovered and Lediche got her strength back.
"...Weird. How do you make a noble cry every night, huh?"
"What a waste of a sword, you cripple."
"Let us have a turn too. Your Rueshatia has two women, doesn't it?"
Until the private soldiers of other nobles — as if they were friends, no, laughing mockingly — started talking loudly.
"...Heh. What, looking for your women?"
When I looked around, I could see nobles gathered behind the training soldiers. From counts to viscounts, a variety of them. They were looking at us and laughing, while Lediche stood apart from them, staring at the ground.
She must have heard it. She must have felt the humiliation.
And the same went for me. If they talked among themselves where we weren't present, that was one thing — but spitting out that kind of talk right in front of Lediche was something I could not tolerate.
The laughing nobles were plenty fucking disgusting too, but if I went after a noble and stabbed him to death, it would cause a huge problem. Private soldiers, though — that was different.
The Baron of Rueshatia had died fulfilling his duty as if to prove why he was a noble. Lediche was the same. For the sake of her territory, at a mere fifteen — no, she was sixteen now. At an age when she should have graduated from the Academy and gone seeking further learning, she had come to the battlefield of her own free will.
"...Take it."
I threw a sword. A wooden practice sword.
The ones who'd been spouting mockery were at least squad leaders. They must have had confidence in their skills to act that way. One of them caught the wooden sword and smirked as if putting on airs.
"What, you gonna beat me up?"
My hands were trembling. Months of accumulated rage seemed ready to burst out.
"...No. I'm going to half-kill you."
"Hahaha— sure, go ahead and try."
The so-called squad leader still came at me with an easy attitude, wooden sword in hand. He simply raised the sword and tried to bring it down. That kind of move might work on conscripts who had no training at all, but it wouldn't work on anyone who'd learned even a little. He wasn't fast enough that I couldn't react, and he wasn't born with raw strength like the barbarians.
Thud-crack—!
I raised my sword and redirected the trajectory of his descending wooden blade. In the instant he pitched forward, unable to control his own force, I locked eyes with him and offered a brief piece of advice.
"Clench your teeth. Unless you want your tongue cut off."
Then I raised my left hand and drove an uppercut hard into his jaw.
Crunch—!
Red blood gushed from his mouth, and thick bewilderment filled his eyes. I was sixteen now, still young. And I was the one who'd been mocked for forfeiting every sparring match.
Of course he couldn't understand. But neither could I.
Men who couldn't even look at a barbarian, let alone kill one, putting on a show of strength. Mocking and scorning people they had no right to even look upon. None of it made any sense to me.
Thud—!
I set the wooden sword on the ground. The first exchange had been sword against sword, but not now. Bare-handed, I charged the bleeding man. He swung his wooden sword upward from below in a panic, but it was so telegraphed I couldn't have been hit even if I'd wanted to.
I'd taken only a single step.
Whoosh—!
The wooden sword sliced empty air. I closed the distance and seized him by the collar—
CRASH—!
—and slammed him into the ground.
"Guh—!"
Blood droplets pooled at his mouth splattered, and dust scattered. I mounted him, about to crush his face in, then forced my trembling fist open.
Crack—!
The sparring match quickly became a session of humiliation. I slapped the face of a man who called himself a squad leader. When he covered his face with both hands like an idiot, I swept them aside with my left hand and slapped him again.
Crack—, smack—, crack—!
I saw several teeth come loose, but I couldn't stop. Only after other soldiers rushed in and pulled me off did I stand up. I stretched out my hand and pointed at another one.
"...Next."
One of the squad leaders who had insulted Lediche. He looked around with bewildered eyes, but he didn't run. Running away in a place full of men — his pride wouldn't allow it, I supposed.
Crack—!
I twisted his arm until it broke—
Crunch—!
—smashed his nose—
Thud—!
—and beat him indiscriminately, over and over, breaking him. Even those who had tried to stop me at first hesitated to intervene.
Only after he passed out from the pain did I get up and pick another one. I left all four of the squad leaders who had insulted Lediche bloody and broken, so they would never crawl back up again.
Then I walked through the soldiers surrounding me. A path opened naturally, and through it I could see the nobles.
If I built up merit, Lediche would never be looked down on again. I could protect her as Köln had willed. I could avenge my comrades too. I should have done this from the start — I spoke as if shaking off belated regret and all the rage that had built up until now.
"...Whether conscripts or otherwise, they're all incompetent, so I stayed quiet wondering what I was supposed to do with them. But I've changed my mind. I intend to build merit for the young head of Rueshatia, so starting tomorrow, prepare consecutive sparring matches. I'll pick out the ones who are at least somewhat useful and take them to the battlefield."
As I said this, I pointed at the knights protecting those so-called nobles.
"...I've heard that knights, because of their honor, become the filthiest of all on the battlefield. Baron Köln was always covered in blood, yet your knights' armor still gleams — how curious. Surely... it's because you bear honor and duty even stronger and nobler than the fallen knights of Rueshatia?"
Lediche stared at me in startled dismay, but I just kept talking.
"Starting tomorrow, I'd like to request instruction in that nobility of yours. I hope you won't refuse. Would that be possible?"
The nobles, the knights, the private soldiers — all of them stared at me. A cold silence fell.