A World Apart From the Back Alleys
Unlike the world of the back alleys, life inside a prestigious count's house was hell itself.
'That woman, she sold her body to vagrants to survive.'
'Ugh, disgusting. How did filth like that even get in here?'
'I bet the child's father was one of those beggars too.'
'Oh my! How shameless.'
The people of the Count's household showered young Katrin with contempt, disregard, and a chill of cold indifference so harsh she felt it down to her bones.
As if to say, you are people who were never meant to set foot in this place.
"Rian Limeberg... that man changed everything."
About a month into that hellish stretch of time — after Rian had returned from the Marcel territory to the Count's estate — the nightmare finally came to an end.
"Miss, are you ready?"
"Of course I am!"
Katrin was dressed in the red training uniform worn by the Count's apprentice pages, puffing out her cheeks as she carefully adjusted her clothes with fidgeting hands.
Today was the day of her very first lesson from Sir Rian.
At her side stood a stern-faced, white-haired old knight — Sir Dryupe, newly appointed as the captain of her guard. Fifty years of devoted service to the Count's family had made him a warrior respected by all, but his rigid personality had also made him a man everyone avoided.
Yet remarkably, the moment Sir Dryupe joined them, the treatment of Katrin and Evelyn transformed completely.
'Do these fools not know who this man is? Are they trying to die?!'
The servants who had sneered at mother and daughter scattered like grasshoppers at the old knight's thunderous roar.
'You pass by Lady Katrin and Madam Evelyn without so much as a bow?! You irreverent wretches! I'll have every one of your heads!'
As Sir Dryupe foamed and raged, every servant in the household bowed their heads low before the mother and daughter. His strictness and old-fashioned stubbornness had become the very shield that protected them.
On top of that, three young guard knights had joined their ranks as well.
"You've got this! Getting to train under Sir Rian is the opportunity of a lifetime!"
"Please take care of yourself in your training, my lady."
"If anything's troubling you, just tell your big brother. I'll handle all of it."
All three of them were proven fighters, acknowledged throughout the Count's household.
"Claude! What insolence are you spouting at the young lady?! Are you truly trying to die?"
"What?! Grandpa! Falcom hyung talks casually to her too, why is it just me?!"
"Falcom is a Master! If you're so upset, go become a Master yourself!"
"Damn it, hell, fuck."
The new knights all had brilliant futures ahead of them — and what's more, Sir Dryupe and Sir Falcom were both veteran knights who had reached the rank of Master. Astonishingly, every last one of them was a commoner-born underdog.
Perhaps that was why the four knights banded together as one to shield mother and daughter.
"Katrin, have this with your friends. Anna and I made sandwiches together."
Thanks to all of it, Katrin's mother Evelyn's face had grown brighter than ever. Part of the reason she could smile so openly was surely the care of Anna, a maid from the very same city as herself. The loneliness had simply melted away.
"I don't like Mom's food, it's too spicy!"
"Don't worry, my lady. I secretly pulled all the spice out of Madam's apple."
"Anna! Thank you!"
"Good luck out there! Madam and I will be cheering for you!"
"Yeah, I'll do my very best!"
Taking her lunch box, Katrin nodded along cheerfully. Ever since the entire guard force and the maids had been replaced, the atmosphere of the house had turned completely around. This place was no longer a prison — it had finally become a real home.
And all of it was thanks to Sir Rian Limeberg. I have to repay him somehow. I really, really will work hard!
For nearly a week, Katrin had vowed to herself over and over again: she would become a splendid apprentice worthy of recognition from Sir Rian, the strongest knight in the entire Count's household.
"Weapon maintenance! Handling warhorses! I learned everything an apprentice page needs from Sister Lika! I'm honestly confident!"
"Very good. Excellent work."
As Katrin exchanged heated, burning glances with the red-haired female knight, Sir Dryupe watched her with an odd expression.
"Lika. You've done the child a disservice. Not one of those things will be of any use."
"I'm sorry? Captain, what is that supposed to mean?"
Dryupe shook his head at Lika, who had served as a knight of Catra County for barely two years. Then he turned his gaze on Katrin with warm eyes and gave her one piece of advice.
"My lady, Sir Rian's lessons are nothing like those of ordinary knights."
"So it's going to be brutal, right?"
"Rather than explain, it would be faster for you to find out yourself. Go and crash into it head-on, splendidly."
"Yes, sir! Grandpa! I'm heading out!"
The loyal captain of the guard began issuing orders to his men for the young lady's departure.
"Falcom! You will escort the young lady."
"Huh? But I've got the morning off? I only came by to wish her luck during my break."
"You fool! If she's seen with you, our lady's face still has some dignity left. Or shall I send those bloodsucking leeches instead?"
"Tsk. Honestly, whether it's me or Claude tagging along, Sir Rian won't pay the least bit of attention..."
"Less talking, more moving!"
Kicked firmly in the rear, Falcom set off escorting Katrin as she strutted proudly down the corridor. And as he walked, he offered a word of caution, gently delivered.
"Katrin, mind if your big brother gives you one piece of advice?"
"What is it, Falcom oppa?"
"About Sir Rian's lessons. Don't get your hopes up. If you expect too much, the disappointment's only going to hit harder."
"What on earth are you talking about? How would you know how Sir Rian teaches, oppa?"
Faced with the little girl blinking up at him with bright, curious eyes, the guard knight Falcom let out a long sigh.
"I know very well. There was quite a mess five years ago. Honestly, experiencing it firsthand will explain it better than I ever could. Anyway — keep your expectations low. Got it?"
"Yep! I'm going to work so hard!"
"Haah... you really shouldn't work hard at all..."
And so the little lady and the big guard knight set off in motion — toward the west wing of the Count's mansion, where the training grounds lay.
Aaah~ what perfect weather for lazing around.
Dragging a bunch of chicks out here to train on a day this gloriously sunny... their future's looking pretty grim, huh?
"Sir Rian! You've arrived!"
"Good morning, sir!"
"So this guy's the territory's top knight?"
"Haaam~ I'm sooo sleepy."
I looked over the four apprentice pages standing at attention in the corner of the training grounds. Every last one of them was unmistakably a tiny brat. But our Knight-Captain had bragged himself hoarse about what a once-in-a-generation crop of elites they were.
Well then — introductions first, shall we?
"Alright, good to meet you. I'm Rian Limeberg, Catra territory's finest handsome guy. Go ahead and tell me your names."
The first to step forward was a girl with blonde hair tied back in a neat ponytail, dressed in tidy, proper clothes.
"I am Ingrin, from the Sharke territory!"
Ingrin... now that's a word I've heard somewhere. Where was it again?
"Your father, by any chance?"
"Yes! He is the knight who guards the Sharke territory. His name is Ingrat — have you heard of him?"
"Ah, yeah, I know him. We've crossed paths once or twice. Never met you, though..."
Wow. Talk about landing a jackpot right off the bat.
The Wandering Knight, Ingrin. After the Cartist cult devastated Catra County, she roamed the continent performing great deeds of chivalry. The original novel went so far as to include this line about her:
'If Ingrin had been in Catra County instead of the capital, Katrin would never have been able to bring the county to ruin.'
If I remember right, her final grade was Upper Peak Master. Now that's someone worth teaching.
Next up — the one glaring at me out of half-lidded eyes. Let's hear your name too, you.
"Kamil, from Hawen Village."
"Does your father run a forge?"
"How'd you know that?"
So Kamil — the blacksmith's son who would rise to fame as the Mercenary King of the Northern Winds — was from Catra territory?
Man, this is insane. The more I think about it, the more Catra's talent pool feels like pure cheating. So how did we end up ruined again?
"Yo, Uncle's here. Go easy on me, alright~"
"Oh? You actually made it on time?"
"Yep, Father dragged me out of bed himself. What a pain, seriously~"
Ukada Randolph, that rascal, was the son of a very big name indeed.
Ukada Bismarck. As one of the key officials founding the newly established imperial bureaucracy under the original protagonist, he would conceive and carry out countless policies — a supremely capable genius statesman. Right now he merely held the post of mayor of this city, Catraneo, but before long he'd be summoned to the capital, promoted again and again.
'Heh heh heh. That's exactly why I became sworn brothers with him in advance. Gotta suck every last drop out of that connection later~'
For the record, Bismarck's son was quite the famous name himself. A master of strategy and tactics, a scholar of genuine accomplishment, and even thoroughly versed in the martial arts — a prodigy brilliant in both pen and sword. In the original story, he serves as the general who aids the protagonist. Though his personality is a bit...
"Hey. Stop dozing off while blowing bubble balloons out your nose. You'll die."
"Whoa, guess I nodded off."
"You were asleep?! How do you even sleep standing up?"
"No idea~"
Same as ever, that one. To think I'd end up babysitting that Snorlax. My blood pressure's doomed.
"I'm Katrin! It's nice to meet you all! I'll work super hard!"
And last but not least — our little Rascal Rabbit, of course.
One of the great Grandmaster's own. The legendary heroine who stood with the protagonist at the Empire's very end.
Ooh~ what a lineup. Every single one of my students this time is a heavy hitter. Isn't this borderline cheating?
"Alright, introductions are over — let's begin."
At my words, the four children gripped their wooden swords, eyes sparkling with anticipation. Faces practically begging to know what wonderful lessons awaited them.
Well, here's the thing.
My lessons? They are anything but ordinary.
"Put the toys down on the ground. Now look at this."
I clapped my hands, and the soldiers set four enormous sacks down on the ground. Each sack came with two straps like a schoolbag, and inside was a set of iron tongs.
Pop quiz, everyone. What could these possibly be for?
"For carrying stuff?"
"Correct. And so — what do you suppose you'll be doing with them?"
"Um... we don't know."
I planted the four signs I'd prepared into the ground, then pointed at the heap of junk piled in the corner of the training grounds.
"That over there is a collection of lucky trash I scavenged last night. From this moment on, your task is to go gather lucky trash of your own. That's your first lesson."
And the reaction of our future heroes? Disappointment written across every face, naturally.
"...Trash, sir?"
"Is this for real? You're joking, right?"
"Lucky trash?"
"Our first lesson is picking up garbage?"
But it couldn't be helped. This was a vital test — a way to gauge exactly what my students were made of. I had no choice but to look stern.
"Now get moving. We're short on time. You have until sundown. Gather up every last piece of lucky trash lying around the estate!"
At my command, the children scrambled to sling their sacks over their backs and scattered in every direction.
"You. Stay here."
I grabbed the back of Falcom's neck as he made to follow after Katrin. That guy would definitely try to give her a hint. Better to stop that before it started. Also, I was bored.
"Brother Rian, I'm supposed to be guarding the young lady though?"
"Relax, it's all inside the estate. She's safe."
"Geesh... I see. Sir Dryupe's still going to chew me out, though..."
"I'll square it with him."
"Well, in that case — what are we drinking?"
He grinned wide as he pulled a bottle of fierce liquor from inside his jacket — The Red Dragon's Roar.
"What do you think? Killer, right? Let's have a drink."
Booze party until the kids came back. So — how long would those little rascals take to pass this test?
"I'd say they'll suffer for about three days."
At my words, Falcom pulled a face.
"Reminds me of five years ago. There were a hundred applicants back then, right?"
"Yeah. All but ten of them washed out."
"And in the end only three made it to the final round. There are only four of them this time — what happens if none of them make it?"
I flashed an easy smile at my junior's worry.
"Then that's that."
Off in the distance, I could see the little Rascal Rabbit sprinting toward me, drenched in sweat, her sack brimming with trash. She dumped her hard-won haul with a great clatter onto the ground beneath the sign bearing her own name — and of course, she had to look up at me with big red eyes begging for praise.
"Sir Rian! What do you think?!"
So diligent! So thorough! Hell yeah, that's my Rascal Rabbit. I can already see the sprouts of greatness. But sadly—
"Failed. There isn't a single shred of luck in this trash. Go gather it again."
"Whaaat?!"
"Move it. Chop chop."
"Yes, sir!"
Watching the Rascal Rabbit trudge away with her sack slung over her shoulder, I poured myself another drink.