The Young Wolf of the North
Attendance at the Imperial Academy was mandatory. Any noble of the empire was required, the moment they turned twenty, to enroll and complete three years of study.
"Put simply, they want to drill some proper values into the empire's future."
As Grand Duke of the North, I could have skipped the whole thing without consequence. But—
"Until I get this disaster of a North back on its feet, I need to play along with the empire to some degree."
And while I was at it, I could check on the original heroine and the male leads.
"Um, Lord Victor?"
"Hmm?"
An academy staffer called after me as I left, voice trembling.
"About the… the swordsmanship exam. Are you truly—"
"I said I'm not taking it."
"B-but the swordsmanship portion of the entrance exam accounts for—"
I know. Roughly sixty percent. What of it?
"I break out in hives if I so much as pick up a sword. I'll pass."
"W-wait—Lord Victor?!"
"I'm going."
Yawning, I walked out of the swordsmanship examination hall. The candidates still waiting muttered among themselves, but I ignored them and headed straight for the principal's office.
Knock, knock.
"Come in."
I opened the door to find an elderly man waiting with a kindly smile.
"A pleasure to meet you, Grand Duke Victor."
"The pleasure is mine. Thank you for indulging my unreasonable request, Principal Arcain."
"Heh heh. Please, have a seat."
I took the chair he indicated and went straight to business.
"I need authorization for a direct teleport gate linking the North to the Academy."
"Of course. That can be arranged."
I blinked at how readily he agreed.
"You'll grant it that easily?"
"Heh heh heh. We simply make it so the gate refuses anyone who isn't you or someone you've authorized. Problem solved."
"You aren't concerned I might tamper with those restrictions?"
"I don't take you for the sort who resorts to petty tricks. You aren't the type to drag imperial and northern politics into the Academy and stir up chaos."
He smiled—soft, warm, the look of a grandfather regarding a favorite grandson.
"Is that so. Then I'm glad to hear it."
"I know the North's circumstances well enough."
"And yet you left my brothers to become what they became."
"You know the late Grand Duke's temperament better than anyone."
"…True enough."
Anything broken could be beaten back into shape.
And then he discarded me. But well…
It had worked out in the end, so I wasn't complaining.
"Is there anything else you require?"
"Nothing."
"Excellent. Then I hope you enjoy your time at the Academy."
"Do you truly think I will?"
Nobles jockeying for imperial favor would hardly leave me alone.
"Haha. Every Grand Duke of the North before you handled those situations the northern way."
"…"
"You'll manage."
Watching Victor climb into a distant carriage, Arcain stroked his beard and smiled.
"Truly—unlike his dead brothers, there's life in those eyes."
He had known men with eyes like that. How could he forget? Proud Walterheim and every Grand Duke of the North before him had worn that same look.
"The North's young wolf… It's been a long time since my heart beat like this."
When I returned from the entrance exam and stepped into my office, Jester was already there—back from a long leave.
"Welcome home, Your Grace."
"Jester. Did you enjoy your vacation?"
"Yes."
"Good. Where's Ruche?"
"One moment. Ruche."
Creak.
The door opened, and the face that entered was barely recognizable from a month ago—ruined. The venom she had once shown me was gone without a trace.
"Grand Duke Victor. For the insolence I committed before, I will repay you with this life."
"…"
Jester Mk. 2 had taken up residence.
"Jester."
"Yes."
"If I send you northern noble sons and daughters in need of a proper attitude adjustment, would that be all right?"
"Oh-ho."
"Hic."
Jester's eyes sparkled. Ruche's shoulders twitched.
"For that sort of education, this old man—and the retired knights as well—would be only too happy."
"Excellent. I'll drag them in one by one from the Academy."
I grinned, already picturing the tender young shoots about to be force-fed northern spirit.
"Remake them thoroughly into northerners."
"Leave it to me."
"And Ruche."
"Yes, Your Grace."
"From this moment, you are my escort."
"Yes."
"You will be my shield. When I say go, you go. When I say die, you die. Understood?"
"Of course. I will be Your Grace's shield!"
I nodded and sank into my chair. Even that brief trip to the Academy had left a mountain of paperwork; a sigh escaped me on its own.
And among the pile, one document stood out.
The Lightning Claw Tribe, an orc tribe driven from the imperial capital, is advancing north. Swift suppression is required.
"Oh-ho."
So that season was almost upon us. The empire's garbage nobles shove non-humans northward; someone has to clean up the mess. In the original story, this was the first non-human recruitment event—the opening step by which the heroine became the savior who united every race.
And I was supposed to sit back and let the heroine and the male leads swallow it whole? For whose benefit? One non-human army after another would pile up until they became a blade pointed at the North. That much was obvious.
"Ruche."
"Yes, Your Grace."
I rose from my chair.
"Your first assignment. Follow me."
Watching Victor leave the manor with his daughter, Jester smiled with quiet satisfaction.
Truly… you hid him where his brothers' eyes would never reach, because he resembled you most of all.
Marveling at Proud's foresight, Jester tidied the desk—and his eyes lit on a letter Victor had overlooked. The seal stamped on it belonged to the Roeyental family.
Crunch.
The sound of nails being chewed filled the quiet room. A girl with soft pink hair gnawed at her fingertips in frantic anxiety.
"Where did it start going wrong…? I got rid of Cecilia first, so—no. Getting that bitch out of the way early was the right call. So why is Blackheart Castle in the North still standing, and who the hell is Grand Duke Victor?"
Lost in confusion, Elysia stared at her reflection. She had become the heroine of the romance fantasy she had once read—the commoner girl beloved by everyone. She had meant to follow the original plot. But then—
Cecilia… that damned girl.
The moment the transmigrator harbored a jealousy the original Elysia never would have felt, the story began to twist. She had used the crown prince to dispose of Cecilia two years early—before the magical rampage that was supposed to remove her.
I only cleaned up a girl who was going to vanish anyway. How did everything end up like this?
The butterfly wings of her own actions had returned as a storm, and everything was falling apart.
No… no. It's fine. I still have the male leads who love me and cherish me.
Elysia left her room and went to the chamber where the men waiting for her were gathered. Everything would work out.
"Everyone, listen. I… want to create a world without discrimination against other races!"
In Seker, the northern city closest to the imperial capital, the local lord was pouring cold sweat at my visit.
"W-why has the Grand Duke of the North come all this way…?"
"I hear an orc tribe has arrived."
"Y-yes."
"I'm here to deal with them."
"But—"
His expression asked, plain as day, why I had brought no northern army—only a single knight who looked like a fresh recruit. I smiled.
"Ruche and I will be enough. We didn't come to fight. However—if you appear with troops while I am speaking with them, then—"
"…"
A warning not to do anything stupid. I stood.
"Heh. We'll be off."
I left Seker's castle and spurred my horse toward the orc encampment visible in the distance.
"Y-Your Grace?"
"What is it, Ruche?"
"N-negotiating with non-humans—with orcs?!"
"Dialogue is possible, isn't it?"
"B-but—"
"The North is always short on people."
"You're going to fill that gap by accepting orcs?"
"Yeah."
The heroine had done it. Why couldn't I? A beacon of harmony blooming in an empire steeped in human supremacy—and I was supposed to leave that weapon free to be turned against the North? Not a chance.
"Halt!"
The voice rolled across the spring-lush grassland. Ruche and I reined in our horses.
"Who goes there?"
An orc in clothes of boar hide strode toward us. Ruche's hand flew toward her scabbard on reflex.
Slap!
"Eh?"
"They're just walking over. Why are you so twitchy about drawing steel?"
"B-but I'm your escort knight—"
"Draw when I order it. Your father drew his sword when my grandfather or my father commanded. I told you—you obey my orders alone."
"…Yes."
Leaving a dejected Ruche with her head bowed, I dismounted and walked toward the orc.
"Are you Gartan, chieftain of the Lightning Claw Tribe?"
"Oh-ho? How do you know that?"
"Your renown has reached even the North."
"Has it. Yes—I am Gartan, chieftain of the Lightning Claw Tribe. And who are you?"
"I am Victor Walterheim, Grand Duke of the North. The one who rules the northern lands where you now stand."
"Oh-ho. Why would a man of such high station come all the way out here? To drive us off?"
I held out my hand.
"No. Have you considered settling in the North, Gartan?"
"…What?"
"I will accept you orcs as people of the North."
"Are you serious?"
"There is a condition."
"Speak."
"I want your orc warriors to fight alongside us at the farthest northern frontier."
Gartan rubbed his chin, then looked at me.
"You mean against the Snow Ghosts?"
"That's right. And against the barbarian tribes of the far north as well."
"…"
"Land to settle on, citizenship—and I will take responsibility for everything that arises among your people."
"So the price for driving warriors into a killing ground."
"No."
"Hm?"
"Any soldier who serves under my command and completes his duty will be sent home safely. Without fail."
"Even if they are orcs?"
"The moment they join the northern army, I am obligated to answer for them. What will you do, Gartan?"
Gartan studied me for a long moment, then turned his gaze toward the encampment.
"May I speak with my people?"
"Of course."
"It may take some time."
"I'll wait. Right here."
Once Gartan had gone, Ruche's tension finally snapped; she sat down hard where she stood.
"Hahh…"
"What's wrong?"
"No… that presence of his…"
"Is that so. More importantly—get ready."
"Ready for what?"
"Camp."
"…What?"
"This is going to be a long game."
"W-we're camping here instead of going back?"
Yeah. Before my sister wrote this part, she had been reading the Zhuge Liang recruitment arc from the Romance of the Three Kingdoms. The Three Visits to the Thatched Cottage. Show the protagonist's patience, repel the lord of Seker's troops when they barge in to "suppress" the orcs, and take the tribe as subordinates. That was the event.
"We'll stay roughly three days."
"…Three whole days?"
"I told you to prepare. Well?"
"I did prepare, but…"
"Good. Then that's that."
While we waited, we might as well breathe some open-country air.