The Trash Bandits of Catra Manor
After spending some quality time with Lady Evelyn, I returned to the count's estate in the dead of night.
The one hour I'd promised the kids had become two, then four, then ten in the blink of an eye. That's how good a time we had. Lisanne was a completely different flavor, let me tell you.
What did we do for all those hours? We toured the city on a proper date, ate delicious food, watched the sunset, and rested for a bit at an inn.
Everything past that point is classified for privacy reasons.
Let's just say we had some adult time.
So after escorting Lady Evelyn all the way home and stabling my warhorse, the sun was already coming up — which meant the trash-collecting mission would be starting soon.
"Look how much they piled up. About time I wrapped this up, wouldn't you say?"
I headed for the corner of the training grounds, and there it was: four markers staked in the ground, standing over a single, towering mountain of garbage.
The four original trash heaps had merged into one glorious mountain.
Which meant it was time to summon the children and deliver the speech:
"Ahem. Behold the mountain of trash. This is the monument of your achievements. One person's strength is small, but when four people join forces, they can accomplish wonders like this at any time. In other words, if you cooperate with your peers and unite as one, no task is beyond you! This is the famous Lesson of the Four Arrows!"
Kukukuk. This was the famous anecdote of Mori Motonari, a daimyo from Japan's Warring States period — though I'd taken some liberties with the adaptation.
Even by my own standards, that was some masterful mentorship.
And how would the children react to this tale? They'd be bawling their eyes out — "Katna! Thank you! Let's give it our all from now on!" — and throw themselves into a group hug, obviously.
Please, let it happen. I'm begging you......
"Sir Rian! Y-you've finally returned! Where on earth have you been?"
Just as I was chuckling to myself, an elderly gentleman came sprinting toward me from across the grounds, completely out of breath.
This was Albert, the head butler in charge of the Count Catra estate.
What on earth had happened to leave his eyes swollen like half-pickled persimmons?
Don't tell me assassins had attacked the manor? Or the Easterners had invaded?
"Has something terrible happened? Why are your eyes like that?"
"Something terrible is exactly what's happened! Something absolutely terrible!"
So the war had finally broken out, huh.
I should go grab my halberd.
Is Lisanne okay? Please tell me Lisanne is okay.
"They'll be moving soon! You have to stop them, Sir Rian!"
"They?"
"Terrible creatures, sir. The worst demons I have encountered in my entire life!"
"Demons?"
Dragged along by the butler, I soon discovered the demons rampaging through the Count Catra estate.
They were mounted cavalry.
No — bratty little kids riding ponies.
"Hand over your garbage if you want to live! We are the Trash Bandits!"
Bandits suited them better than cavalry, honestly.
But seriously, what are you kids doing?
"How long has this been going on?"
"Since the moment you left the estate, Sir Rian. They've been running wild all through the night."
"Haah... unbelievable."
The little pony-riding gremlins were currently wrecking the manor. Wielding grabbers with wild abandon and extorting garbage by force — such was their tyranny that every single servant in the household was trembling in their boots.
How can everyone just let these brats do this?
Somebody needs to give them a firm scolding!
Why is nobody stopping them?
"They shout your name while they do it, Sir Rian. Who would dare lay a hand on them?"
"Seriously?"
Count Catra's estate didn't just house the count and his servants. Dozens of the territory's finest knights and hundreds of attendant squires were stationed here as well. Even if Katrin was a candidate heiress, running wild like this should have been impossible. But what if you wield my name as a shield?
"The Lord of the House turned a blind eye! When he heard it was in Sir Rian's name!"
"Oh for crying out loud... so it's my fault in the end."
The butler was brimming with tears as he began to recount the events of the previous night.
'You brats! Do you have any idea where you are, carrying on like this?! Do you truly wish to die?!'
When the commotion grew too loud to ignore, Count Catra himself had come out to rebuke the marauding children.
Cowed by that overwhelming authority, TigerJam, SheepJinx, and Greaseball had shrunk back and retreated —
'Grandfather! We're in the middle of the lesson Sir Rian assigned us!'
'What? Sir Rian?'
'That's right! And since our teacher started all this, you should scold him along with us!'
Faced with his granddaughter's rebuttal, red eyes glinting in that unmistakable way of hers, the count had reportedly retreated, deflated.
And then —
'Enough, all of you. Observe noble decorum at the very least. Tsk tsk.'
— before shutting himself in his study. That was the story.
So the final verdict?
"The head of the household himself gave his blessing! Who among us could possibly stand against them!"
Indeed.
With the estate's own master looking the other way and the territory's strongest knights covering their backs —
therefore —
"Do not engage! Everyone, simply comply with their demands."
"Damn it... if it's Sir Rian's order, then... we have no choice but to obey."
"Ignore them. Stay consistent about ignoring them. You must not get entangled with those children!"
That, more or less, was how everyone had dodged the problem~
Pretty ridiculous, right?
"Wow. They sold my name with exquisite skill. A textbook case of the fox borrowing the tiger's might."
I was genuinely impressed, because it was such a creative solution.
Handling the fact that there was no more garbage left in the manor that way? These kids really were high-potential prospects. This was beyond common sense. These brats are straight-up geniuses.
"Boss! There's no more trash here!"
"Good. Then we move to the kitchens!"
"Yes, ma'am! My lady!"
Having plundered their first warehouse, the bandits were now raiding the count's kitchens, where the morning preparations were in full swing.
The head chef was pleading with them desperately.
"There's no garbage right now! Once the food prep produces scraps, I'll give you everything, I promise!"
"Chef, isn't that garbage right there?"
"No! That's the knights' breakfa— no! Don't touch that!"
"Girls. Strip it."
At Katrin's merciless command, her right arm and left arm rolled up their sleeves and stepped forward.
"Out of the way, old man! We're claiming this!"
"Please place everything into this sack at once."
Hold on. TigerJam? SheepJinx?
Since when did you two become the Damn Rabbit's lackeys?
In the original story, you two were supposed to be each other's worst rivals, mortal enemies sworn to mutual destruction.
Why is the plot falling apart like this?
"This should work as garbage too. Put it in quickly, please."
"Don't hide anything! I've been watching everything with eagle eyes!"
"Hey, what's this stuff on this shelf? That counts as garbage, doesn't it?"
As the three of them ransacked the kitchen top to bottom, the chef and his staff went ghost-white.
"Let's move! Next location!"
"Onward! Onward!"
The little bandits cheerfully finished looting the kitchen and set off for their next target, a small cargo cart rattling along behind them. The mule-drawn cart's driver was none other than Greaseball.
He's cooperating willingly? Greaseball, of all people?
Even the one I'd trusted most had become the Damn Rabbit's minion.
What kind of charisma does this girl have, turning named characters into her subordinates? This isn't friendship — this is minion exploitation!
As I stood there staring blankly at the children's departing backs, the butler seized my sleeve and screamed in a desperate voice.
"Please, stop them, Sir Rian! The entire estate is in chaos!"
Let's think this through for a moment.
If I went up to those kids right now and said, "Okay, that's enough! Stop! I'm dying here!" — my dignity as a teacher would take a catastrophic hit.
And I am nothing if not pride. Remove the pride, and there's just a corpse.
Saying "I was wrong, you win, you passed the test" here would be mortifying beyond measure.
Which means what?
"This is fun. Fine, keep going. We settle this — until one side wins."
The battle of wills had begun.
Go ahead, you little brats.
Sell my name and wreck the place all you like.
I won't so much as blink.
Because I am Rian Limeberg, the strongest knight of the East.
Unofficially, of course.
"Run as wild as you please. I'll be watching every second of it."
So there I was, having declared my position, sitting in the dumping ground waiting for the kids.
The bandits, having finished their pillaging of every last corner of the manor, began making their way toward me.
Then they set their bulging sacks down on the ground and announced, with all the swagger of a returning triumphant general:
"Sir Rian! We've brought you a new pupil!"
They had returned as five, not four.
"Rian! I want to learn too! Is that okay?"
Lisanne's daughter. Second in line to succeed the Count Catra family.
Her name: Catra Rue Elkanel Lirika — Catrel for short. In the original story, after she became the Countess of Catra, Katrin invaded the estate and broke her neck, killing her.
And now the child I'd been raising like my own had joined the Damn Rabbit's gang.
What are you doing here?
And did you get your mother's permission?
"Yep! Mom said yes! She told me to learn from you from now on!"
I can't hold out any longer.
I surrender. I lose.
Victory is yours. Congratulations, you diabolical brats.
"The test is over. Real training begins tomorrow. Dismissed for today."
As I hung my head and turned away, the children's cheers rang out behind me.
"WAAAAAH! We did it!"
"Did everyone see that guy's face? Hilarious."
"Lady Katrin, truly! I've fallen for you all over again!"
The Damn Rabbit, SheepJinx, and TigerJam were jumping for joy.
"Then shall we all head off to a nice long nap? See everyone tomorrow~"
"Katrin, big sis! Play with me! I'm bored!"
Greaseball too — and even Catrel, whom I had cherished and raised with such care.
This isn't right. It really isn't right.
Hey! Lisanne!
You said you were going to raise your daughter like a precious gem!
So why are you handing her to me as a student?
You wouldn't even allow it before!
"So you'll take that whore's child as your student, but not mine?"
"No, it's just that Catrel doesn't have the talent — I mean, she's not a good fit, is all!"
"Oh? Well, I know all about you sneaking in and out of that whore's house every single day. You liked it there that much? Disgusting. Get lost. I can't stand the sight of you!"
"Hey! Seriously! Hey! HEY! Throwing things is against the rules! Ack!"
I went to demand answers from Lisanne, and got thrown out in spectacularly humiliating fashion.
What did I even do wrong, for her to be like that?
"So our senior was never a devoted lover after all — just a womanizer. A true treasure of Marcel, aren't you."
"Hey! Foxy! Is that any way to talk to your esteemed senior?!"
"For the record, please refrain from serving as Lady Lisanne's escort knight for the time being. A replacement has already been secured."
"What?!"
"Her ladyship's orders were that you should devote yourself to educating the children. Best of luck, Sir Rian."
Struck by this thunderbolt from Lisanne's head of escort, I could only bow my head.
My honey-sweet hours had been confiscated, after all.
Fine. If that's how it is, I'm going all in — full power, no reserves.
Brace yourselves, you little runts.
I'm going to show you exactly what true hell training looks like!
But wait — what do I call our Catrel from now on?
If I don't give her a nickname, won't she get frozen out by the others? Isn't there some seriously cute nickname I can come up with?
"She's tiny as a bean, so... Beanrel. Hmm. Not bad, actually. That one works."
And then, the next day.
I stood before the children as they huddled around me, and the real lessons began.
"So — what do you all think a knight is?"