The Little Tyrants of the Orphanage (3): Return to the Nursery
Externally, the Whites at the orphanage weren't known to be from the Empire. That was only natural.
'We brought them from the Empire, but they can't be Empire folk. Not right now.'
They hadn't even established formal diplomatic ties with the Empire yet. Empire children showing up?
—They didn't open the gorge for them, so how did Empire kids get into Gibraltar? They must've snuck them in! Treason!!
It was bound to stir up scandals.
'So for now, they're seen as mutants who can't speak properly.'
White hair symbolized imperial girls of royal blood in the Empire, but in the kingdom, it was closer to a mutation. They had to hide it appropriately. Rumors of multiple white-haired girls gathering in Gibraltar had to be quashed before anyone even whispered they might be from the Empire.
Hair could be concealed.
'It was visible at first, but we can gloss over it somehow.'
The roots couldn't be helped, but dyes could color the strands.
'Language is the problem, though.'
They were from the Empire, but aside from a tiny few, everyone had to believe these were kingdom orphans.
'Not just now, but going forward, it'd be best if they kept mistaking them for kingdom natives.'
Until they could speak the kingdom tongue fluently for their age, they couldn't mingle with the existing orphanage kids.
—Young master. These children are so smart it's downright scary. They're already speaking at a ten-year-old's level!
But fortunately.
—At this rate, they can mingle with the orphanage kids without issue! Everyday conversation should be fine!
As Mirdin Madam reported periodically, the Whites were picking up the kingdom language remarkably fast.
—What about their backgrounds?
—I've made each one's story unique, and the kids understand them perfectly! Even if they're from the same region, no one will think it's odd!
They'd even learned fake backstories about their "hometowns" from Mirdin Madam, transforming into kingdom orphans in the blink of an eye. Was it our thorough preparation? Partly, but the kids themselves were somewhat ready.
'Clever little things.'
Turned out they'd all been subtly pretending not to know the kingdom language.
'Makes sense. Erwin wouldn't send kids to the kingdom who knew zero kingdom tongue.'
They all had the basics down. To be chosen by Erwin, they'd studied some kingdom language, then upon arrival, pretended utter ignorance.
'Even royal blood shouldn't learn this fast. All nine of them.'
Our innocent Mirdin Madam must be terrified teaching such geniuses. But no plans to reveal the truth to her.
The Whites were smart enough to hide their own weapons. Their utility rose, and if they became my limbs instead of the crown prince's spies, they'd be my shadows.
'Not bad. Quite good, actually.'
Talent was guaranteed. Half their blood was the crown prince's, the other half from beautiful or capable women.
'Talented limbs are always welcome.'
If Erwin's blood held master-level talent, these girls had at least mid-tier—worst case, novice knight potential.
'If they overcome their fear of the imperial family and become truly mine, the gains and hopes outweigh anything. No blade more trustworthy.'
I'd make the Whites mine. After devising a few plans, I decided—though a bit annoying—to use my beloved brother Noir Gibraltar's proposal.
—Bro. The kids keep saying they want to talk to them....
Use the youths smitten by the Whites' beauty, dying for even a greeting.
—Really? Then gather the kids. No—tell the director to assemble them in the auditorium.
—W-Wait, for real?
—I'll tell Father too, so bring your trainees to the orphanage tomorrow morning.
—F-For real?! Can I tell the kids?
—Of course. You think I'd lie about this and embarrass myself to my brother?
And so.
—Kids! Big stuff tomorrow! What? Doesn't matter! Just get hyped!
Thanks to Noir boldly promising not just the knight candidates but the orphanage kids too, I gathered them all with minimal effort.
"Ahh. Everyone's gathered."
The grand auditorium in one wing of the orphanage building. Before the spacious front area ample for a hundred kids sitting shoulder-to-shoulder.
"I've called you all today to address what you've been curious about."
I ascended the podium, drawing every gaze from the gorge's children, and opened my mouth.
"Not a single one missing."
Knight candidates who should've been swinging wooden swords at the training grounds after morning drills. Future alchemists tending flowers underground. Those without martial or alchemical talent but absorbing imperial academy curricula to become future spies.
All gathered in the auditorium, looking up at me.
"Relax. It's regular class."
Some faces brightened.
"No extra tutoring. Sir Hades, Director Merrill, Teacher Carlos—they need breaks too."
Some feared my presence, but skipping class sparked their interest.
"Of course, the disobedient go underground."
"Eek...!"
"Plenty of Somnus flowers left, after all."
One warning sufficed.
"Used to academy-style classes? Get used to it. For your bright futures."
Currently.
"Gibraltar knights, officials, butlers—no one's accepted without passing exams and basic etiquette. Learn well."
The orphanage kids took imperial-style morning classes.
"Enough nagging. I gathered you to introduce some people."
Murmurs rippled through the once-silent hall. Girls looked troubled; boys' eyes gleamed as they straightened up.
'These kids.'
Fear of Grey Gibraltar suppressed—even instinctual desire overrode it.
"Sir Robert. Bring them in."
"Yes."
Screeech.
The auditorium doors opened; those waiting outside entered one by one.
Thud, thud.
Eleven new girls. In black-and-white maid outfits, they entered demurely in a line, arraying behind me.
One wasn't white-haired but golden, exuding an aura of nobility that dominated the surroundings.
"Heehee."
One girl scanned the orphanage kids with sparkling eyes, tension-free—but she just smiled, saying nothing.
"I pondered how to introduce them, but here's the plan. Meet your new apprentice maids, tasked with orphanage management."
Maids. The "apprentice" drew puzzled looks.
"Like you, they're orphans who came to Gibraltar with nowhere else to go."
Euphemism for orphans.
"But the orphanage is full, and we can't treat them carelessly with their patron in mind."
Warning: born different, touch at peril.
"These two are my personal aides. The golden-haired one's Jabes. The silver-haired—"
"It's Eli!!"
Astasia shot up her hand, introducing herself as "Eli."
"Gasp...!"
The hall froze. Kids mid-chatter about the maids clamped shut.
Then eyes darted side to side, as if watching for someone.
"Eli."
"Yes, young master!"
"Be quiet now."
"Ah, yes! Got it. Heehee."
My reprimand to Astasia widened their eyes at me.
"What? Why?"
The desired reaction. Ethan's confusion stood out most.
'Effective indeed.'
Special response to Astasia alone, unseen by others. Rumors would spread: Grey Gibraltar makes exceptions for Eli-Astasia. His gaze is intense; he keeps her close.
'Delude yourselves she's won his heart. Makes my life easier.'
If seen as Grey's cherished personal maid, none would dare mistreat Astasia. Fall for it hard—that I'm smitten. Let rumors cross the gorge to the crown prince's ears in the Empire someday.
'That's your greatest value here.'
Prejudiced rumors would taint the emperor's ears, cloud his judgment—like a blade.
"These maids will manage your daily lives: cleaning, laundry, Somnus harvesting, and more."
Mentioning roles shifted some expressions.
'Typical.'
Humans love hierarchies. Realizing maids serve them, contempt crept in.
But.
"They'll assist your lives while surveilling, assessing, and rooting out the dishonest—my eyes."
Lowly notions flipped instantly.
"Hope you give me no cause."
Even same orphans, allegiance changes status.
"Now, introductions one by one. Merrill. Can you handle with the kids?"
"Yes. Understood. But...."
"Think of this one as your aide."
I pointed to White No. 9, orange epaulet on her left shoulder.
"She's their leader. For now."
"Understood, young master. That—"
Merrill cautiously lowered her voice, bowing.
"Those two—we separate business from personal?"
She glanced at Astasia and Naria; I patted her shoulder.
"Spot on. I'll keep them close mostly."
"Got it. I'll take it from here."
Merrill smiled faintly, stepping back to approach No. 9.
'She'll handle it.'
Simple self-intros for new batches, then bonding games. Merrill was a veteran of nine rounds.
Then.
"Noir?"
"......!!"
Noir bolted up from his chair behind.
"Come with me a moment."
"Uh, uh, okay."
He followed stiffly, awkwardly solemn.
Screeech.
Door shut.
"...Bro."
Noir called in a sunken voice.
"Those girls, are they—"
"You."
I turned, grabbed his shoulders, pinned him to the wall.
"You weren't planning to introduce them only to your personal trainees, right?"
"......!!"
As expected.
"You."
People's nature doesn't change.
"Dividing people like that, using girls to buy your knights' loyalty? Huh?"
In the future.
"Follow me."
How Noir won loyalty for his private knights, not Gibraltar's. Booze. Women. And Silver Dust.
"Time to fix that sloppy thinking."
I patted his shoulder, headed downstairs to the first-floor reception room. His reflection in the glass: a condemned man to the gallows.
Noir Gibraltar. Future Sword Master, infamous "Debauched Young Lord."
Pre-regression, my family were all troublemakers. Polite term; outsiders would've earned curses.
Father, Mother, Noir, Letar. Who troubled me most? No clear winner, but by sheer frequency over years—
'This bastard.'
Invited nine women to the villa at once. Changed them weekly.
'Fell right into the revolutionaries' trap.'
Promiscuous but managed carefully, hygiene obsessive for "fun."
'Like Saint Geo.'
Stuck to vetted women.
'Problem: heard from the emperor, ditched contraception like trash.'
Irresponsible pleasure. Responsibility fell to Gibraltar margrave—me.
'How many was it?'
Monthly, two or three women at the gates: "I'm bearing Noir Gibraltar's child." Some true, some scams.
'That's how he got hit.'
Looking back, engineered trap.
'Noble bloodline woman infects herself with syphilis to kill Noir? Suicide hug.'
No one foresaw self-inflicted "suicide" assassination.
'Scary woman. Truly.'
Emperor, fallen princess—even I missed it. One woman's sacrificial revenge.
Noir fell, died.
So.
To prevent that.
"Noir. Bottom line first."
I handed the terrified Noir a list.
"You."
"This is...."
"Pick any you like in advance."
"...Their names?"
Whites' roster.
"Maria. Enansi. Gloria.... Wow, such pretty names."
I memorized by numbers and backstories; he nailed them for "bishoujo" appeal.
"B-But bro, suddenly...."
"One to all nine. Or none."
"What?"
"Do as you please."
I.
"Marry all nine if you want, or make them your knights' childhood friends to secure loyalty."
"Uh, wha...."
Like me.
"My dear brother Noir."
Human nature resists change.
"Think I don't know what you want?"
"B-Bro...!"
Better pave the board for what he excels at.
"But."
The board must be strictly controlled.
"Until adulthood, kisses only."
"......."
Noir flushed crimson, head bowed.
"K-Kisses? Wh-What do you mean? Haha."
"Don't play dumb. No bullshit."
He always deflected with nonsense.
"......."
"Gonna repeat your trainees' dumb jokes?"
Some nobles warn against mingling with commoners.
"Think I don't know your chats with them?"
Some orphanage knight candidates older than me.
"Me."
Past and present.
"Don't disappoint. Sincerely."