8. The Home Tutor
Spring had passed, and early summer was upon us. That's when a massive trial crashed into my peaceful daily life.
"Nice to meet you. I'm the home tutor from the capital, Madam Brichiel."
Standing before me was a stern-looking woman. Pointed glasses, a mole near her mouth—straight out of a comic or anime.
"I've heard from the lord. Young Master Kalian is exceptionally bright, and the young lady Seria here needs a solid foundation if she's to become a knight someday."
"Sigh, yes."
"Hm? Did you just sigh?"
"No, not at all. Looking forward to working with you."
"Hmph, very well. Nice to meet you too, Miss Seria."
"Yes! Looking forward to it!"
Father had finally done it. 'My son's a genius—I can't let that talent go to waste! And Seria needs both brains and brawn to be a proper knight!' So he'd shelled out money to hire a tutor from the capital.
It felt like just yesterday the previous one had half-fled, saying, 'Young Master Kalian has nothing left to learn from me. Perhaps it's time for more advanced instruction...'
"Sigh."
Unlike me, sighing away, Seria gripped her unfamiliar quill pen tightly. She looked more tense than when holding a sword.
"Let's start with arithmetic. Very basic stuff."
Madam Brichiel wrote numbers on the chalkboard.
1 + 1 = ?
"So, what's the answer? Shall we have Miss Seria try first?"
"Uh..."
Seria's pupils shook. She fidgeted with her fingers, counting.
"I-It... 2!"
"Correct. And this one?"
1 + 1 + 1 = ?
"Th-Three!"
"Excellent. Now, Young Master—if you add one apple to another apple?"
"Two."
"Very good. You're both keeping up splendidly."
Madam Brichiel smiled, satisfied.
Sigh, don't even kindergartners do addition these days?
It was boring. Sure, I wasn't from some top school, but I'd graduated engineering college—counting apples? Still, Seria seriously finger-counting next to me was cute enough to endure.
Can't take it anymore. Time to poke the bear.
I shot my hand up.
"Teacher, question!"
"Oh, Young Master? Ask away."
"Why is 1 + 1 equal to 2?"
"Pardon? Well... because you add one to one, so it becomes two. That's just common sense."
"Isn't that too simplistic?"
I propped my chin, feigning seriousness.
"Doesn't it depend on the value of labor? Say one person's efficiency is 1. But two people working together create synergy—maybe output 3 or 4. So couldn't 1 + 1 equal 3?"
"...Pardon?"
Madam Brichiel's eyes started spinning. Labor theory of value? Synergy? Not words from a six-year-old's mouth.
I nudged Seria beside me.
"Seria, you think so too, right?"
"...Pardon?"
Caught off-guard, she flinched, glancing between me and the teacher blankly.
"See? In snowball fights, we hit more enemies by teaming up to throw together than throwing separately. That's synergy. So 1 + 1 is more than 2, yeah?"
"Uh..."
Seria pondered deeply.
"Now that you mention it... that makes sense."
She nodded eventually.
"In swordsmanship too. Two knights back-to-back aren't just double the power—they're more. So 1 + 1 is over 3."
"Right? Seria's so smart."
"R-Really? Thank you."
Seria rubbed her nose bashfully.
Madam Brichiel gaped.
"N-No! Miss Seria! You can't just agree with him!"
"But Young Master's point is tactically sound."
"Tactics? This is arithmetic class!"
Madam Brichiel's face flushed red and purple.
But I didn't stop.
"Teacher, let's move to history. They say it's written by victors—so where's proof what we learn is true? Who speaks for the losers' grudges?"
"W-Well, through cross-verification of sources..."
"But verification's done by people. Humans lie. Can true objectivity exist?"
"Urgh..."
Madam Brichiel clutched her neck, staggering to lean on the desk.
"J-Just a moment. My head... dizzy..."
"Teacher? You okay?"
"I-I'm just going to get some air. Five-minute break. Just five..."
She fled the room.
The door clicked shut, and I bolted up.
"Now's our chance!!"
"Y-Young master?"
"Time to ditch class! Run!"
I kicked my chair and dashed for the door.
But.
Thud.
A shadow blocked my path.
"Where do you think you're going?"
It was Seria. The girl who'd been beside me moments ago now guarded the door like a boulder. Her physical prowess was straight-up cheat-level.
"Move, Seria. This is a fight for freedom."
"No can do. The lord said to attend class properly. As your fellow student, I can't let you skip."
"Hey, you agreed with me earlier! 1 + 1 is 3!"
"That was academic debate. This is rule-following. Sit."
So inflexible when it counts. I tried slipping between her legs.
But.
Grab.
"Got you."
"Ack! Let go! Put me down!"
Seria lightly snagged my collar. My short six-year-old limbs flailed in the air. The physical gap was too vast.
Struggling futilely, I went for my last resort. I went limp, mustering the saddest puppy eyes—teary gaze, pouty lips.
"Seria..."
"..."
"I don't wanna study. My head hurts. Sis, let me off just this once. Pleeease?"
"...!!"
Seria's shoulders jerked. The classic "big sis little bro" ploy.
Her red eyes wavered, face ripening to tomato red.
"Wh-What did you just..."
"Siiiis. I wanna go play. Pleeease? Just once."
I hammered it home, tugging her sleeve.
Her grip slackened.
"Urgh... If you call me that..."
"You'll let me go? Right?"
"J-Just once. Only this once..."
Seria squeezed her eyes shut, stepping aside.
Yes! Success!
I cheered inwardly, grabbing the doorknob.
But.
"Ahem, Kalian. Where to?"
Caught red-handed by Father. He approached with hands behind his back, benevolent smile.
"D-Dad?"
"Madam Brichiel was cooling her head. Wonder how passionate your questions must've been to tire her out."
"Uh, that is..."
"Seria."
"Yes, my lord!"
Seria snapped to attention on reflex. The girl melting from "sis" moments ago? Gone.
"Seat Kalian. Time for class."
"Understood! Young master, back to your seat."
"Hey! You said you'd let me! You called sis!"
"Private nicknames prohibited during duty."
Seria unceremoniously plopped me at the desk. Traitor. Demon. Heartless knight.
Soon, Madam Brichiel returned, face refreshed like she'd splashed cold water.
"Phew. Sorry. Let's resume. History this time."
She opened a thick history book.
"We'll cover the empire's founding myth, geography, and relations with neighbors."
I slouched, chin on hand. More boring stuff, probably.
"First, our empire—300 years ago, the founding emperor contracted with a dragon and..."
Huh? Dragon?
"To the north lies the Black Forest, infested with mana beasts. South is the magic engineering hub, the merchant alliance..."
My ears perked. Black Forest? Magic engineering?
I sat up straight. Seria's eyes sparkled too.
"Teacher! Where's that dragon now? How advanced is magic engineering?"
"Pardon? Well..."
"What mana beasts in the Black Forest? Close to our territory?"
My 180-degree shift flustered her. The kid spouting nonsense had turned model student, burning with curiosity.
"My, Young Master loves history."
"Me too! Can knights hunt Black Forest beasts?"
Seria joined in, leaning forward, quill forgotten.
"Alright, let's use the map."
"Yes! Hurry!"
I grabbed my pen, scribbling notes furiously. Seria clumsily jotted beside me.
That day, moved by the kids' passion, Madam Brichiel extended class past schedule until sunset.
Of course, once it ended, me flopping on bed groaning, "My head's gonna explode," was our little secret. Seria slumped nearby, mumbling, "Writing's harder than swinging a sword..."