The Legendary Teacher of the Heroes

"Baron, good morning to you."

"I'll be heading out shortly."

I finished straightening my clothes as I answered the voice from outside the door. In the mirror stood a man who had, before he knew it, grown into an adult playacting the part of a noble.

My nametag had gained a few extra words, and it seemed to sparkle more than before now. In a distinctly unpleasant way.

I stepped out of my modest, unluxurious bedroom and into the hallway. When I made my way to the garden, Riella the Servant had already laid out breakfast, tea included.

"Good work."

"It's nothing at all, my lord."

Riella bowed her head to me, and I took a sip of my tea as I unfolded the newspaper. So they'd gone and invented newspapers—the world really was improving. Apparently they weren't produced by machines, but by pressing ink onto paper with magic for mass production.

"The Hero Party, hm."

It was news that drifted in from time to time—that a Hero Party formed two years ago was advancing to overthrow the Demon King.

"It was supposed to be ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this year, wasn't it."

The Demon King had appeared five years ago. In the original story, no Hero had emerged during those five years, the human realms had been left a scorched wasteland, and the main story had only begun once the protagonist and company gathered at the academy.

But here, a competent Hero Party had already thrashed the Demon King's armies into helplessness and now stood on the very brink of slaying him.

I turned the page of the newspaper with a flick.

You'd think the nations that selected them would use the Heroes for propaganda, yet nothing whatsoever was known about their identities or their faces—not even how many of them there were.

From their founding until today, they had apparently crossed into the Demon Realm and done nothing but fight on the front lines.

"There must be another possessor, then."

That was the conclusion I'd come to on my own. Curious about ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠who they were, I'd even tried searching the wiki, but Heroes were 5-Star jobs—beyond my access privileges.

If even I, an extra among extras, had been possessed, then wouldn't more remarkable people have been possessed as well? The likeliest possibility was that they had already been rewriting history for a long time, and that was why the subjugation had come so much sooner.

"And if that's not it..."

I turned to Riella, who was attending me at my side, and asked.

"Today's the day the mail comes from the capital, isn't it."

"I'll bring it to you right away."

Riella returned with the bundle of mail, and sure enough, it was there. Three letters in all. The senders were written as Yellow, Black, and White.

Ordinary letters asking after my health, with gold coins tucked inside as always. I wanted to tell them to stop sending money, but with no return address, there was no way to reply.

"Could it be thanks to these kids."

If the three of them never became the Demon King's Four Heavenly Kings, then people who should have died got to live, and thanks to that, a Hero was born early—if so, then perhaps...

I found it pleasant to indulge in that kind of imagining.

After parting with the children in Elend, I had switched my profession from adventurer to merchant. I never entirely set the sword aside—my body was my own to protect, and merchant work brought the occasional commission too. The nature of the trade made money-making more efficient, but more than anything, a merchant is far sharper about information than an adventurer ever is.

Maybe, deep down, I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had vaguely assumed that if I ever entered the capital, I'd hear some word of the children.

From then on, I flourished as a merchant. Not that it was all smooth sailing. Assassins threatened my life more than once, merchant cartels marked me until I had to change my line of business, and traveling the whole of the human realms was punishing work.

Even so, I scraped together every coin I could, bought a baron's patent and a manor, and still had enough left over to live out my days in comfort.

Purchasable nobility ended at baron. The Goddess apparently didn't place much value on it either—the head of a baron's house was a mere 2-Star job, the same rank as a Swordsman or a Mage.

And there was a ceiling on wealth, too, because taxes bit harder than income. To amass more than that, one needed illegal trade, connections, or a rarer job—and as a Slave Merchant, none of those paths were open to me. As an imperial citizen, emigration to other countries was likewise blocked by one condition or another.

There was no ladder in this world. Not for people like me.

In the end, I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠decided to retire early, never having managed to change those words on my nametag.

By imperial law, a baron who bought his title cannot hold territory, but a workaround of sorts had managed to bend the rules a little. These days I lived a leisurely life in a single small manor with one servant and one old knight.

Still, it had been a comfort that news of Lucas, Testia, and Yuri continued to reach me steadily ever since. Somehow, the moment I had an address, the three of them had begun sending letters. They'd been taken under the protection of the Imperial Knights after we parted, then adopted separately by different families, and from then on, each had gone her own way and was doing well, so they wrote.

Not one of them missed a letter, sending their greetings along with gold coins without fail, and that eased something in my chest. Their nametags surely wouldn't say slave anymore, and unlike me, they could become anything they wanted.

Having read all the children's letters and tucked them into my breast pocket, and finished breakfast as well, I decided it was time to get up from my seat.

"An excellent meal again today, Riella."

"You always overpraise, Master."

"Forms of address."

"Oh—forgive me. Baron."

"There's nothing to forgive. You're not a trained servant by trade, and I'm a man of no breeding merely aping the nobility."

"I am working on it. And please don't say such things about yourself, my lord—mind your dignity. The standing of House Phedia will fall to the ground."

Riella pouted a little, and I answered her with a wry smile.

House Phedia. Of course—it was a name I'd invented myself, and I was its first head. Though with the head of the house being a Slave Merchant, I couldn't say whether the line would continue.

I had chosen the surname deliberately. Combined with my original name, Wicker, it made WikiNet—a combination that meant something to me.

"Riella, don't be disrespectful to the Baron. My lord—will you be heading out for monster hunting again today?"

The old man of slender build with a sword at his hip, Knight Winston, asked me. He was House Phedia's exclusive retainer-knight.

"Was there a worthwhile commission?"

"I've prepared one."

Winston promptly showed me a map with the target marked. It helps that he dutifully runs to the Adventurers' Guild every single morning.

"Then we depart at once."

I readied my gear and mounted my horse, with Winston taking up the guard. I threw a parting word over my shoulder.

"Do the cleaning properly, Riella."

"I do it fine now. It's my nagging habit, after all."

The two of them traded banter as familiar as a father and daughter. Winston had once served in the Kingdom's knights order, so he was a great help on outings like this—part exercise, part monster subjugation.

We left the manor and rode toward our destination, the western forest, a route that took us through the city center. Naturally, none of this was my land; this was the earldom of a noble called Coldwell. Since I couldn't live alone like some primitive with no territory of my own, I was camped on the edges of an earldom that actually had infrastructure.

"Goodness, isn't that Baron Phedia?"

"Where does he keep scurrying off to every day, dressed in those barbaric furs?"

I could see citizens we'd passed on the road muttering to themselves. It was familiar. They were commoners under the earldom's protection, and the rumor that I was a fake noble had long since spread everywhere. No reason was needed—the four words floating above my head, Slave Merchant, were reason enough.

"Baron! Baron!"

But not every commoner disliked me. A boy came running up and spoke to me with a bright, beaming face.

"Good morning to you, Jack."

"Off to hunt monsters again today? A dungeon, or the forest?"

I slowed my horse to match the boy's steps as I answered.

"The forest, today."

"That's amazing! I wish I could become a strong adventurer like you, Baron!"

"I retired from adventuring a long while ago, you know."

"But you still take commissions, don't you?"

"It's just a simple morning exercise."

"Everyone at the guild is so curious about it! About who sweeps up every dangerous B-rank and above commission first thing every single morning!"

The boy's eyes were shining.

"I—I know your secret, Baron!"

"Secret?"

"Yes! I was wondering why you were so strong, and it turns out you're the legendary teacher of the Hero Party! The one everyone's talking about!"

"Hm."

That was a new one on me.

"Heh heh. My lord, is it true? Even I can make sense of it now."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Your name is Wicker, isn't it, my lord? Wicker Phedia?"

"It's written right up there."

I pointed at the nametag above my head.

"I heard the rumor! They say the Hero Party was all taught by a teacher named Wicker Phedia! That's you, isn't it, Baron?"

"A mistake, or a rumor that's run wild. Run along home now."

I shooed the boy off and picked up speed toward the forest.

"Why are you so embarrassed, my lord?"

"I genuinely haven't the faintest idea what he could mean."

"Is that so? How curious. That rumor is actually quite old, you know. I assumed you'd already heard it."

"Ha ha. Me, teaching the Heroes? How could that possibly be, when no one even knows who they are."

"Heh heh. Then this old man jumped to conclusions, thinking that a man of your caliber having no hidden story would be the stranger thing. I beg your pardon."

"There's nothing to apologize for."

"Then allow me to offer my gratitude instead."

"That's rather out of nowhere."

"What you did for my daughter and me—rescuing us from those vile slave merchants—could never be repaid with a lifetime of loyalty."

"How many times must I say it—my quarrel with those men was a personal grudge, nothing more."

"You even gave employment to Riella and me when we had nowhere to go. And on terms this generous, too—where else could one find such a thing? You are a far finer man than you believe yourself to be, my lord."

"Let's go catch us some monsters."

"At once, my lord."

As I rode along, it suddenly occurred to me why the rumor had gotten so twisted.

Wicker Phedia. I had named myself deliberately close to the wiki I'd used before I was possessed. The Hero Party currently subjugating the Demon King were people who hadn't existed in the original history. If they were possessors too, then they'd be making full use of whatever knowledge they'd brought with them—knowledge learned from that same wiki, perhaps.

Asked who their teacher was, couldn't one of them have tossed out the name of that wiki as a half-joke?

"A story that isn't funny in the slightest."

Still, in a quiet backwater like this, it was a scandalously stimulating piece of gossip.

In rather high spirits, I saw to the day's commission. And by the time I returned to the manor, that rumor had set off a considerably larger change than I ever could have expected.