Chapter 42 - Compass of Bewilderment (2)
After Ernest's disastrous driving display, the First-Year Cadets now fully understood just how dangerous driving could be.
They all became extra cautious, determined to avoid mistakes, and as a result, Norman managed to finish the lesson without feeling his life was in danger again.
"For Teacher Ernest to get the worst score… today's nothing short of a historic occasion."
Robert, who had managed a rather decent first drive, said this with a dramatic expression as he stood next to Ernest. Ernest didn't say a word.
"Well, I joked about it, but I guess it's not something we can just laugh off. So, what's the real problem?"
Robert now looked at Ernest, whose health and mood seemed equally poor, and asked in all seriousness. Ernest pressed his throbbing head with his hand for a while, then let out a long sigh.
"…Haah. Honestly, I really thought a car would move on its own, just like a horse. At first, anyway."
"Oh…"
Robert nearly said something in response to Ernest's confession but closed his mouth. The other cadets, hearing this, also looked like they had plenty to say.
Of course, even though a horse is a living creature, it can't simply know a rider's wishes and move by itself. That's just nonsense. However, in front of Ernest—who could ride a horse perfectly without whip or spurs—no one dared call that nonsense.
"You'll get the hang of it soon. You did well with starting and stopping the engine, after all."
"Wilfried…"
Wilfried, even in the sweltering heat, had his uniform neatly arranged and spoke to Ernest in a gentle tone, trying to comfort him. Up until now, Ernest had always seemed to draw only Wilfried's ire, so he looked back at Wilfried, deeply moved.
"Of course, no matter how good you get at driving, I have not the slightest intention of ever riding in a car you're driving. Maybe I'll consider it if I ever completely lose my will to live."
"Wilfried…"
But as Wilfried smiled and said this, Ernest hung his head dejectedly.
The fact that Wilfried's words weren't barbed with malice but rather pure, honest survival instinct only hurt more.
"A salute to Instructor Luther, who will have to keep riding in that car with you from now on."
"Salute."
At Robert's earnest remark, a few cadets snickered and saluted Norman.
Norman, who had been tense in the passenger seat for all sixty first-year cadets' turns at the wheel, was utterly exhausted.
Flopped over the car roof, he weakly waved his hand to accept the salute.
"I just want to be alone… Disappear, all of you…"
"So, can we rest until lunch?"
"Yes, yes… Go back to the dormitory or whatever, just don't get into trouble. Please."
At Norman's weary words, the cadets quickly made their way out of the sun-drenched training ground.
"See? Instructor Luther really is the best."
"Weren't you saying before that Instructor Kohler was the best?"
"I must've been out of my mind then. To think Instructor Kohler was a good instructor."
"Yeah, honestly, you'd have to be out of your mind to think that."
Praising Norman, the cadets headed back to the dormitory. On a hot day like this, an instructor who finishes the lesson early is truly the best.
Once Ernest returned to the dormitory, the heat that had boiled his head cooled off, his headache faded, and he started to feel much better.
'Should I try cutting back on the dosage?'
Ernest seriously considered reducing his medication. Before entering the Military Academy, he'd suffered from headaches but never had any real problems. If a headache struck, he could simply rest. But at the Academy, he couldn't just take a break whenever a headache started, not with lectures to attend.
'I really should tell Father…'
Ernest couldn't help but feel conflicted.
He felt he needed to lower the dosage starting today, but it seemed Haires wasn't even in Grimman right now.
It's already been over a month since he sent a letter to discuss his plans for leave, and he still hadn't gotten a reply.
And just yesterday, he'd written another letter and sent it off this morning.
Writing yet another letter now felt a bit much.
'…Let's just cut back a little. Just a tiny bit.'
In the end, Ernest decided to reduce his medication without consulting Haires. If he lowered the dosage just slightly and monitored his condition, he could always go back to the original amount if any heart problems appeared, couldn't he?
And if everything seemed fine even with the lower dose, then he could just carry on as usual.
As several days passed, it felt as if summer itself was fanning the blazing sun, and the heat only grew more intense.
More and more cadets began roaming the dormitory in just their shirts, and even the Disciplinary Officer allowed them to wear just shirts inside the dorms.
"…"
"Alright, Wilfried. Let's see how long you can keep it up on your own."
Despite all this, Wilfried still refused to take off his jacket.
By now, everyone was eagerly waiting to see when he would finally surrender to the heat and shed that damned jacket.
"…Robert, why do you act like you're so desperate to see me take it off?"
Wilfried seemed slightly annoyed as he asked, reacting to Robert's constant urging for him to remove his jacket. Before Robert could say anything, Ernest jumped in with an answer.
"Looks like you've forgotten—Robert has a thing for blondes. I saw it myself at the City Parade practice on Founding Declaration Day."
"No, I don't!"
"…"
"No, I'm telling you! I like girls! I'd take one girl over a hundred Wilfrieds any day!"
Wounded by Wilfried's look of pure disgust, Robert launched into a passionate speech about just how much he liked girls.
"Sure, and you'd prefer her to be a little shorter than you, right?"
"I agree with you about wanting someone who's good at cooking."
"Isn't cooking the cook's job, though?"
"Commoners don't have cooks, you know. Jimman's a noble now, but still."
"And what else?"
"That thing about wanting her to hold you around the waist from behind when you ride a horse? Don't you think that's something you should dream about after you actually learn to ride?"
"A nice scent? You must not have an older sister or a younger sister. Give it up, Robert. Stuff like that just doesn't happen in real life…"
Before they knew it, the conversation had shifted, and the fourteen-year-old boys were now sitting around discussing their ideal type.
"Didn't you already have a fiancée?"
"I do. We got engaged when I was nine. But I can't stand her. She's taller than me, stronger than me, and she's got a terrible personality."
"She might've been before, but aren't you bigger and stronger now?"
"I still don't like her."
Since they were sons of powerful families, quite a few cadets were already engaged.
"I have to get married as soon as I graduate. Ugh… Just the thought of it is awful."
"Why do you hate your fiancée so much? I'd love to get married soon."
"Not every girl is as sweet and pretty as your fiancée, you know."
Talking badly about your own fiancée—no one would dare say such things in public.
But after spending so much time together in the same situation, the cadets spoke freely with one another.
"I'm going to get engaged after graduation. That way I can marry a girl from a good family."
"What if your grades are bad and you end up in some weird countryside post?"
"Then I'll just marry the prettiest girl in that town, so it's fine."
"Dream big, huh. With that face of yours?"
"I may not be handsome, but I look better than you."
"Ha ha. What nonsense is that?"
"Hahaha."
"..."
"..."
"Come outside! Let's duel!"
"Bring it on!"
"Whoa! A duel!"
"Don't do anything stupid. If you want to have a duel on the grounds of the Military Academy, you need the Headmaster's permission. In fact, the Headmaster himself will oversee it as a witness. Unless it's something truly important, just settle it quietly with wrestling or something else."
The two boys who had been about to duel over "Well, at least I'm better looking than him," sat back down at Wilfried's calm warning.
To waste Headmaster Armin Mannheim the Major General's precious time over something like that—there's no way it would ever be forgiven.
"Come to think of it, Wilfried, you've never talked about your fiancée."
Conversations about the Duke's son's fiancée—such talk would never be allowed outside these walls.
In fact, if it weren't for the unique environment of the Military Academy, getting to even exchange words with Wilfried would be impossible.
"I'm not engaged yet either. Things will probably change a lot once I'm commissioned as an officer."
Wilfried replied with a very mature smile. Without mentioning anything about his precarious situation, he gave an explanation that everyone found perfectly reasonable. Most of the fourteen-year-old boys, who still didn't know much about the perils of noble society, accepted it and moved on.
"Ferdinand, aren't you engaged?"
"I am."
Wilfried, trying to deflect the attention that had been focused on him, casually shifted the topic to Ferdinand.
Ferdinand answered without much concern that he was indeed engaged.
"Oh, come on! So you already have a fiancée, and you were still sneaking glances at the tall older sister? Four times!"
"I did not!"
Robert, who could never miss a chance to tease someone, pounced on the opportunity with glee.
Ferdinand, his cheeks a little flushed, vehemently denied it.
When Robert first met Ferdinand, he'd been so nervous that he hardly even breathed.
But now, he joked around with the Duke's son, calling him "Young Master of the Duke's House," and wasn't at all intimidated—just as if he were teasing the Chief of Staff's eldest grandson.
"Our own Teacher Ernest saw everything! Didn't you, Ernest?"
"That's right. I saw it clearly. She was a tall Baltracher Cadet with light brown hair, sitting in the fourth row from the front, second seat from the left."
"You—!"
"Ha! See? You can't deny it now, can you? It would be disgraceful to keep denying it when the evidence is this obvious! Hartmann!"
"And Robert, you looking at the girls in the first row, third from the left, and in the fourth row, first on the left…"
"Hey! Hey! Shut up!"
Robert, who had been so pleased to have cornered Ferdinand, now frantically tried to silence me as I accurately recalled the spot where the blonde female Baltracher Cadet—whom Robert had been sneakily glancing at during city parade practice—had been sitting.
"Get that guy!"
"Ernest! Keep going!"
"Arrgh!"
But none of the First Years wanted to miss a golden opportunity to call out Robert—the most notorious chatterbox in our year, whose tongue could never keep a secret.
Especially Ferdinand, who darted forward, grabbed Robert himself, and urged me hurriedly to spill the rest.
Robert tried to shout me down, but it was all in vain.
"This guy! He managed to sneak glances at every blonde girl in that short time...!"
"Persistent little devil."
"...Wait a second. Isn't Ernest, who actually remembers all that, the really dangerous one here?"
"Huh?"
Ernest, who had been savoring his moment of revenge as he looked at a thoroughly defeated Robert, suddenly flinched when everyone's attention shifted to him.
"That guy's the most dangerous one! We have to shut him up!"
Revived by the sudden outpouring of accusations, Robert, still trapped in Ferdinand's grasp, cried out that Ernest needed to be taken down.
"..."
But everyone just hesitated, unsure what to do next.
"What are you all waiting for? Take him down!"
"...Jimman, everyone knows Krieger is dangerous. But unless we find a way to deal with those wandering eyes and that freakishly good memory of his, there's no point in trying to do anything."
"T-that's ridiculous!"
"Oh, I know this one. My father always says: 'Information is power.'"
Thanks to his astonishing knack for gathering information, Ernest had managed to protect himself once again. He let out a relieved sigh and sat back down. Information is power. That was something Haires had taught him. Still, even Ernest never imagined he'd experience it in such a bizarre way.
"We've spent too much time on this. If we keep going, free time will be over and we won't have accomplished anything."
As the mood settled, Wilfried spoke in a gentle voice, bringing everyone back to order.
"These are the records from today's mock combat."
At last, the real reason all the First-Year Cadets had gathered—the review of their Military Science class—began. Only moments before, the cadets had been laughing and joking around like the boys they were, but now they gathered around the map and began a serious discussion about tactics.
This discussion meeting, hosted by Wilfried, had become a routine part of life for the First Years.
The cadets beside you were comrades, but they were also rivals.
Still, keeping your distance from your competitors wouldn't help you grow.
'Ernest. He seems sharper recently...'
And all the data collected here ended up in Wilfried's hands.
Over the past few days, Wilfried had started to notice that Ernest's insight had grown even keener than before.
At first glance, it seemed nothing much had changed.
Ernest's tactics remained much the same as before.
But that was only because Ernest had already reached a certain level as a tactician.
There wouldn't be any obvious changes until he managed to break through the wall ahead of him.
Even so, the reason Wilfried was able to notice Ernest's changes was because he obsessively recorded and analyzed every single conversation that took place during these discussions.
Above all, Wilfried had been researching Ernest with meticulous thoroughness.
In the past few days, Ernest had begun to spend less time studying the map to grasp the overall situation, and he could now understand and explain the intent behind military operations more clearly. He no longer just muttered brief comments to himself after working things out alone, as he used to.
"He doesn't seem as affected by the heat lately."
Also, even as the days grew hotter, Ernest wasn't collapsing in exhaustion like before.
Of course, he still struggled with the heat more than the other cadets, but there had been definite improvement.
"I have no idea where this change came from."
Wilfried just couldn't understand what had caused this shift in Ernest.
He wondered if it was the influence of the Silver Horseshoe Tournament, but even after that event, Ernest had seemed the same—right up until he suddenly changed one day.
"Is it just simple growth? But so suddenly?"
Wilfried felt a pang of anxiety.
He could almost physically sense the gap between himself and Ernest widening, as though he could brush his hand against it.
"…No. If I let this anxiety rule me, I'll just lose my composure and burn out, nothing more."
But unlike before, Wilfried managed to keep himself in check without acting out of reckless urgency.
That was thanks to Gustav's advice.
The discussion wrapped up as usual, and Wilfried headed back to his room with today's newly recorded data in his arms.
He needed to organize it well and share it with everyone at the next Discussion Meeting.
Of course, he would leave out all information about each cadet's personality and individual traits.
That kind of thing only has power when you keep it to yourself.
Just like Ernest did.
***
'Cutting back on the dosage was definitely the right call.'
At the end of the day, when Ernest returned to his room, he felt a surge of satisfaction.
Starting the very day he decided to reduce his dosage, Ernest took a little less than the usual one tonic pill each night, carefully breaking off a piece before taking it.
The next day, he felt more focused than usual, and his headaches seemed to have eased.
From then on, Ernest began thinking, 'I guess it's okay to take even less,' and gradually started cutting the tonic into even smaller pieces before taking it.
He couldn't help it.
With the relief in his concentration and headaches that had plagued him endlessly since he was ten, it felt as though his entire world had changed.
"Are you sure it's okay to cut that up like that?"
Robert asked as he watched Ernest carefully break up the tonic.
"It's just a tonic, right? Isn't it supposed to be better if you take more? I've seen some guys just grab a whole handful and toss them into their mouths."
Robert mimed stuffing his mouth full, as if filling his whole hand with pills and gulping them down.
Startled by his words, Ernest looked down and realized he'd actually been cutting the tonic in half.
The bottle was now filled with all the small pieces he'd sliced off.
"...Lately, I feel healthier than before. So I don't think there's any need to take so much of it."
Ernest replied in a calm voice, trying to brush it off.
But since Ernest had almost never lied before, his eyes were betraying his nerves, darting about uneasily.
When Ernest had lied about the Military Academy being under attack, he was completely unfazed, thinking of it all as part of the hunt.
But breaking his promise to his father and cutting back on the dosage by himself was a totally different matter.
"Really? Then can I have the leftovers?"
"No way."
At Robert's words, Ernest hurriedly closed the bottle's cap.
He hesitated for a moment, tonic half-cut in his hand, then dumped it into his mouth and swallowed it down with some water. He could have chewed it, but this medicine was unbearably bitter and left a horrible aftertaste.
Ernest immediately regretted eating the whole tonic.
Just thinking about suffering from another terrible headache tomorrow and losing focus made his head start to hurt in advance.
This was all because of The Worst Guy, Robert.
"Oh, come on. Don't keep the good stuff all to yourself. You should learn to share with your friends."
"Instead of begging me, why don't you just ask your father to send you some?"
"Then at least tell me what it is you're taking. I just want to take the same thing you're taking."
"I don't know what it is either. I just take whatever my father gives me."
Robert eyed Ernest suspiciously.
But this time, Ernest truly wasn't lying.
He genuinely had no idea exactly what the medicine was made of or how it worked.
"Damn it. I'll just have to ask my dad to get me whatever's best."
"Isn't that a bit much?"
"How is it too much? It's for his beloved son!"
"This reminds me of the day we first met. I remember you said your father would kill you…"
"Oh, look at me now—I'm fitting right in at the Military Academy and making friends with all sorts of noble young masters. I'm doing better than my dad ever expected, so I deserve it."
As Robert spoke so nonchalantly, Ernest was reminded that Robert had always had this calculating side to him.
No, calling him just calculating was putting it mildly—Robert weighed every little detail before making a move.
"So? Was I right or not?"
"…You were."
When Robert asked with a snicker, Ernest nodded.
Robert hadn't just achieved his original goal of befriending a few hereditary noble cadets—he'd become friends with everyone in the First Year.
Even Wilfried, the Duke Ravid's son, and Ferdinand, the Chief of Staff's eldest grandson, treated Robert warmly.
"You calculating bastard."
"Thanks for the compliment. I'd honestly prefer cash over words, but since we're friends, I suppose I'll forgive you for only giving me compliments."
But it wasn't as if Robert always acted purely out of calculation.
He had grown accustomed to life at the Military Academy, enjoying the camaraderie with kids his own age.
Above all, his relationship with Ernest, who'd been with him since the very start, stood in a completely different category from his ties with the other cadets.
Just as Robert was a special friend to Ernest.
"So, which blonde girl did you like the most?"
"…The one sitting right up front."
"But you know, most of the blondes are hereditary nobles—they wouldn't even look twice at you."
"I know, damn it!"
"Tsk, tsk, tsk…"
"And you're the one always chit-chatting with tiny little Marie!"
"Why are you bringing up Marie now?"
"Oh, Ernest, say something encouraging to me, Marie… Wait! I don't want to break a sweat right before bed. Let's solve this like civilized people—with words, not fists."
"Go ahead."
"Teacher Ernest, I'm sorry. I went too far with what I said."
"Hmmm…"
"But you can't deny that you completely swept Marie off her feet."
"That never happened! And that's not why Marie acts the way she does, either!"
"Oh, then why do you think that little girl comes all the way here just to see your face and hear your voice? And why did she muster up the courage to cheer for you in front of everyone in the Arena, shouting, 'Ernest! You can do it!'? Huh? Why do you think that is?"
"…"
"Yes, I apologize. I'll stop here, Teacher Ernest."
Sensing the mood, Robert decided to leave it at that.
However, Ernest had no intention of letting things end there.
As he enthusiastically beat Robert with a pillow, Robert's screams echoed all the way down the hallway, but no one paid any attention.
After all, Robert was getting exactly what he deserved for his actions.
Sweating and even developing a headache as he relentlessly pummeled Robert with the pillow, Ernest ultimately had no choice but to lie down and try to sleep, still feeling somewhat unsettled.
Of course, the same went for Robert.
'Marie… It's not like that.'
Ernest replayed Robert's words in his mind and thought to himself.
Yet, he couldn't quite put into words exactly why it wasn't like that.
But one thing was certain: it definitely wasn't.
At least, that's what Ernest believed.
"…You jerk."
"Be quiet and go to sleep, you blonde lover."
Muttering quietly, the two boys drifted off to sleep, wrapping up their day.
A sensation of being sucked in.
Cries and lamentations ringing out in pitch darkness.
Amid the tangle, voices calling out for him, fading into nothingness.
Even in the deepest, blackest abyss—it felt like there must have been a trace of light.
Relying on that light, he gazed at the receding floor of the Abyss.
Countless hands stretched out, as if trying to grab him—or maybe push him away.
Countless corpses sprawled, dead.
"My son."
Why did that familiar voice sound so strange?
Just as he turned his head to look at the faint light pouring from the sky, a flash and a jolt struck him.
It was probably a lightning bolt brought on by the storm.
Ernest woke up to a terribly unpleasant morning.
He was awake even before the official wake-up call.
Maybe because of the sweltering heat, his whole body was drenched in sweat.
With a headache pounding like nails being driven into his skull, there was no way he could sleep any longer.
Ernest was forced to spend the time sitting silently on his bed, waiting until the others woke up and the day officially began.
'This all happened because I took that tonic tablet last night. And that was Robert's fault.'
Ernest tried to blame Robert for no real reason.
Of course, he knew perfectly well that Robert hadn't done anything wrong.
"…Why are you sitting there like that?"
Startled, Robert, annoyed after being awakened by the morning bell, sat up and couldn't help but gasp when he saw Ernest sitting on the bed opposite him.
"Am I not even allowed to sit on my own bed?"
"…That's not what I meant… but, I mean, at least make some noise or something…"
At Ernest's brusque response, Robert mumbled an excuse as he got up.
For some reason, as he looked at Ernest sitting there, Robert felt like he was seeing someone other than the friend he knew.
It was as if he were a ghost—about to vanish, swept away by a passing breeze.
Maybe he just wasn't fully awake yet.
Ernest and Robert hurried to start another day at the Military Academy.
If they dawdled any longer, they'd be late for roll call.