Chapter 47 - The Place Called Home (2)
"To Father.
I received your letter last night. You mentioned a trip—where did you go? Ah, but please don't go into too much detail in your letter. Let's talk about it in person when I get leave.
You said you felt like you took away my free time with the training, but I truly enjoyed those moments. I wanted to do it, and above all, I got to spend that time with you.
And thanks to that, I think I'll be able to get good grades at the Military Academy. Even the instructors have been praising me a lot. I don't know my exact results yet, so when the year-end grades are announced, I might not do as well as expected. Still, I've done my best.
There's something I actually want to tell you. I've struggled with how to say it, but after listening to my instructor today, I decided it would be best to be honest with you. I'm sorry. Lately, I've been cutting the tonic pills you sent me into smaller pieces before taking them. I know you're sending them for my sake, but they're so bitter that it's been really difficult to swallow a whole pill.
I'll explain everything in detail when I see you during leave.
Will you forgive me?
From Ernest"
After finishing his letter and reading it over slowly, Ernest realized he'd forgotten something important.
"P.S. I'm thinking of going out on leave in five days. There's no Military Science lecture that day. Is that alright?"
He'd intended to send the letter to arrange his leave, but when he read it over, he realized he hadn't even mentioned the dates. Ernest had carefully chosen the day with no Military Science class for his outing.
"Sigh..."
Rereading the letter, Ernest let out a deep sigh. What would Father say if he found out he'd been cutting the tonic pills?
Ernest had written that he cut the pills because they were bitter, but Haires would instantly realize that he was talking about the side effects of the medicine. Still, it was clearly Ernest's fault for cutting up a medication he'd have to take for life without saying a word about it.
"Why do you keep sighing?" Robert asked.
"It's nothing," Ernest replied.
"Nothing? Don't give me that—you're acting weird."
Robert had been slightly bothered by Ernest's incessant sighing throughout the letter writing.
"Hey, if you go out, bring back some candy or something, will you?"
"What?"
But right now, Robert's mind was less on Ernest's troubles and more on what Ernest might bring back when he came in from outside.
"That's a banned item."
"It's only a problem if you get caught. Besides, you ate some too."
When Ernest frowned and protested, Robert just grinned in response.
The candies Robert had smuggled in were all gone now—the two boys had shared them from time to time, and their stash had finally run out. It wasn't as if they could bring in much to begin with. Since they were contraband, you had to sneak them in, and it wasn't like you could carry in a whole bag.
"Ernest, since I gave you half of what I had, shouldn't you at least give back as much as you got, if not more?"
Ever the sharp trader, Robert grinned as he spoke. Ernest realized that Robert had basically invested his share of candy in him for just this moment.
"And what about all the things I've taught you? Like with your schoolwork, and equestrian skills, and more..."
"Hey! You told me to put that on your tab as a debt!"
"Then let's just say the candy pays off part of that debt."
"No way! Bring me candy!"
"And who are you to say yes or no to that? Isn't the debt you owe me way bigger than a few pieces of candy? Candy's nothing compared to that."
"My debt is the one you, as my creditor, told me to keep as a tab! As the rightful owner of the candy IOU, I, Robert Jimman, demand to be repaid in candy as soon as possible!"
"And what if you get caught and end up with a demerit?"
Ernest looked at Robert, exasperated, and asked. If he got caught and Ernest was the one punished, how was Robert planning to settle that?
"That's why you just make sure not to get caught."
"And if I do, then what?"
"…Just use my name. I've still got three unused merit points. This is exactly why I've worked so hard to keep up my reputation as a model cadet and live so obediently at the Military Academy."
"Even if I use your name, the demerit won't disappear. Besides, you're not exactly a model cadet, or that diligent, and those three merit points you have? You got those thanks to me."
"Oh, sure, I've made my share of mistakes, but at least I've never almost killed an instructor. So, you know what I mean, right?"
Ernest wasn't clueless—he knew exactly that Robert was referring to the times when Ernest's terrible driving nearly got Norman killed. Ernest scowled.
"I'm not teaching you anything ever again."
"Ha! I've already learned everything I need!"
Even with Ernest's threat, Robert stood his ground. Robert had already learned all the basics he needed to avoid getting expelled.
"Oh, really?"
Ernest crossed his arms, lifted his chin, and asked. Really? Hearing that, Robert recoiled but then fell silent, deep in thought for a moment.
"…Respected Teacher Ernest, it seems this pitiful fellow must have lost his mind for a second."
After a brief pause, Robert realized he still needed Ernest's help more than ever.
Robert struggled just to keep up with the lectures. Without Ernest summarizing them for him afterward, he often couldn't remember the material properly or would completely misunderstand it. And as for riding that damned traitor—without Ernest's help, he never would have managed.
Bereter may have let Robert ride on his back now, but he had no intention of accommodating him in the slightest. Unless Ernest, whom Bereter acknowledged as worthy, soothed the animal, Robert could get thrown off his back at any moment and leave the Military Academy for good—in a far from pleasant way.
'That traitor.'
Robert cursed Bereter.
The beast was useless in every way.
Sure, Bereter had made a splash at the Silver Horseshoe Tournament, but that was for Ernest's sake, not Robert's.
That traitor really was a traitor!
Now, almost no one thought of Bereter as Robert's horse.
Thanks to that cursed traitor, everyone believed Bereter was Ernest's now.
"Yes, yes. Student Robert, don't forget to always show respect for your teacher."
"Oh, of course I won't."
"That tone of yours doesn't seem to carry much respect for your teacher."
"Long live the great Teacher Ernest. Long live."
The two boys finished their day bickering as usual. That night, Ernest felt nervous but also a bit hopeful as he tried to fall asleep, thinking about the reply he might get from his father.
After sending his letter, Ernest figured he would receive a reply from his father by the evening two days later. His letter would reach his father the next day, and if his father replied right away and sent it back, Ernest would get it at the Military Academy the following day.
But no letter arrived, and Ernest's anxiety only grew stronger, preying on him constantly.
"Krieger, Krieger."
"...What?"
"You're going out on leave, right?"
"Yeah..."
"Then could you send this for me?"
"..."
In the meantime, Ernest received a pile of letters from the first-year cadets.
"Where is this place now?"
"Never mind that—just do me this favor."
"How am I supposed to know what kind of letter this is and just send it off?"
"You think I'd give you some military secret for the rebels or something?"
"I can't say that's completely impossible."
With Ernest's firm stance, the cadet finally handed over the letter, blushing and mumbling quietly.
"There's a girl I like…"
"Please, don't drag me into things like this."
"Come on, I'm begging you!"
Ernest really wanted nothing to do with this.
Most letters sent this way were what you'd call "inappropriate letters."
Sure, using the Military Academy's postal system would get the letter delivered quickly, but you had to clearly state both your family name and your own name. They might not check the content, but they always checked exactly who was sending to whom. If you had nothing to hide, you'd just send it under your own name. Clearly, if you were going through all this trouble, you had something to hide.
Most of the cadets at the Military Academy came from Noble Families. And many of them, for political reasons beyond their control, were engaged to someone not of their own choosing. Even though they already had fiancées, there were those who still found themselves smitten with someone else, desperate to send letters to other girls, but hesitant because too many eyes were watching. Now, Ernest's upcoming leave gave them a perfect opportunity, so of course they latched onto him.
Truth be told, affairs were commonplace in noble society. Everyone knows, but they all pretend not to.
Even so, there are times when this becomes a problem.
One is when the spouse of the other party takes the affair as a personal insult.
Another is when an illegitimate child is born.
And the last is when the affair becomes public knowledge.
That last case is especially tricky. Even if everyone in society knows about the affair, there's an unspoken rule: as long as you don't show it openly or leave proof at a public event, people just let it slide.
On the flip side, if you do make it obvious or leave evidence, you'll be instantly disgraced and driven out by a tidal wave of condemnation from society. In those situations, unless you're forgiven by both your own spouse and your lover's spouse, it's nearly impossible to make a comeback into society.
That's why they can't send letters under their own name and ask Ernest to do it for them. Sure, Ernest will know, but as long as he keeps his mouth shut, there's no problem. Plus, if Ernest were to betray the trust of those who confided in him and gossip, it would only stain his own honor.
Because of all these complicated circumstances, having to send so many inappropriate letters on their behalf was incredibly uncomfortable for Ernest. Even one would have been more than enough. But right now, there were as many as eleven people asking Ernest to secretly send letters for them!
"Krieger, right?"
"Huh? Oh, yes…"
"You're heading out on leave, aren't you? If you don't mind, could I ask you a favor?"
"..."
And when even senior students who had never spoken a word to Ernest began approaching him to entrust their letters, Ernest finally had no choice but to give up.
Horrifically, as soon as one third-year asked him for the favor, the rest of the upperclassmen came rushing over with their requests as well.
In the end, to keep from losing his precious free time, Ernest put a box in front of his room door. Thanks to word spreading quickly, nobody tried to stop him and ask in person anymore.
"..."
"That's pretty impressive, huh?"
Instead, by the time his free time was nearly over and he brought the box into his room to open it, he found it stuffed full of letters—each one now Ernest's responsibility.
All of this happened because Ernest was heading out on leave unusually early.
Earning five merit points was harder than it sounded. At the end of the school year, all earned merit points were counted towards a cadet's grades, and then the tally reset at the beginning of the new year—same with demerits.
Every year, you started over from scratch.
Unless you achieved something truly exceptional, the first student to earn leave each year never did so until late summer.
And considering that Ernest Krieger was the cadet who humiliated one senior, got four others expelled, caused two officers to be removed from their posts, shattered the Cadet Corps, and even managed to turn a sure-loss Mock Battle Training into a victory—he had, by all accounts, been exceptionally active.
In other words, Ernest was the first one to earn leave this year. The fact that he managed to rack up those five merit points while it was still spring made it all the more extraordinary.
And so, the first cadet to earn leave each year inevitably took on the job of delivering everyone's letters.
Because no one could leave the school until months after the school year started, there were always plenty of desperate cadets anxious to have their "inappropriate letters" sent as soon as someone got the chance to go out.
"How many are there?"
"Sixty-seven."
"Wow! That's nobles for you! Even their affairs are on a whole different scale! The sheer volume is incredible!"
Ernest had to deliver a staggering sixty-seven letters.
With a heavy sigh, he began to sort through them.
"The names are all over the place, too."
"It's probably better not to look at the recipients' names..."
"So it's fine to look at the senders' names, huh?"
You'd be wise to forget the names of the Ladies receiving these letters. But since the cadets' names were all clearly fake anyway, it didn't matter if you saw those. Ernest roughly sorted the letters according to their destinations, setting aside the ones for places he didn't recognize.
There were generally two ways to send letters: one, by entrusting them to someone reliable, and two, by using the Postal Company. Since there was no way anyone would trust Ernest with sixty-seven letters personally, he had no choice but to use the Postal Company. And with that, postage fees were charged according to distance.
"Just from a quick look, I'd say it'll run at least 1,000 decks (Deck: unit of currency)," said Robert, who could calculate costs with uncanny speed whenever money was involved, letting out a deflated laugh.
1,000 decks was a huge sum—enough for a family of four to live comfortably for a month.
And yet, despite dumping all this work on him, they didn't offer Ernest a single deck.
They probably never even considered the cost, thinking that for the son of a wealthy household, that kind of money was nothing but loose change.
Of course, not receiving money for the postage didn't mean there was no compensation at all. Having received help, one was obliged to repay it. That was an honor nobles were required to uphold, even if it involved the dishonorable business of covering up affairs—even if Ernest were to forget whose letters he had sent.
In noble society, abstract things like these held much more value than money, which could be had anytime with a wave of one's hand. In exchange for sending these letters, Ernest would, knowingly or not, be shown consideration or receive help from various cadets in the future.
"It's all a complete mess…"
Ernest slumped over his desk, muttering weakly. Haires's reply was supposed to arrive today, but it hadn't. Either Haires hadn't received his letter, or he had but hadn't bothered to write back right away.
Neither scenario was what Ernest had hoped for. And as if that wasn't enough—these damned letters, too…
Knock, knock, knock.
"Ernest, you have a visitor."
"Sigh…"
And now, someone had come to see Ernest as well. Not that this, at least, was necessarily a problem. It was just part of daily life now.
Ernest got up wearily and opened the door.
"Hi."
As soon as the door opened, Marie looked up at Ernest and greeted him first.
Though her small, pale face remained expressionless as she stared, Ernest could clearly sense the warmth in her eyes.
Marie had changed a bit lately. The biggest difference was that she no longer wore the fierce expression that once made her look like she might bite someone's head off at any moment.
"Hello, Marie."
Ernest lowered himself to greet Marie at her eye level. Marie watched him silently for a moment, then tilted her head slightly.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
Her tiny finger twitched nervously.
She'd come just to hear a few encouraging words, and then she was supposed to go back. That she was now asking Ernest questions showed just how close she'd grown to him—close enough to worry about him.
Seeing the fatigue on Ernest's face, Marie felt a little anxious.
"I'm going out in three days, but there are some things I have to take care of before then."
"In… three days?"
Marie's eyes widened in surprise.
Three days from now is the day Marie will come to see Ernest again for some words of encouragement.
The leave lasts for one night and two days.
There must be cadets whose families have traveled from far away to visit them, so they deserve to spend at least a full day together.
In other words, on the evening three days from now, Ernest won't be at the Military Academy.
"Oh, right. Then would you like to come by in two days instead?"
"Okay."
Once Ernest realized this and suggested a new date, Marie replied right away.
That was fine. In fact, it was even better.
"Marie, is there anything you want? Like, do you want to send a letter to someone?"
Ernest looked into Marie's eyes and asked gently. Marie's cloudy blue eyes darted for a moment, and then she put on that fierce look she hadn't shown in a while.
"No."
Marie answered with a growl.
"All right, I understand. Still, if anything comes to mind, let me know in the evening two days from now."
"…Okay."
Ernest didn't know anything about Marie's family, nor did he care much to pry, so he let the matter drop without pushing for details.
"Do your best tomorrow too, Marie."
"Yeah, you too, Ernest."
As always, they exchanged their usual farewell, and Marie hurried off without looking back. Ernest also closed the door right away without seeing her off.
"Hmm…"
Robert watched their relationship—which seemed friendly, but also strangely distant—and stroked his chin.
"How did things end up so tangled between those two?"
"No idea."
Ernest himself couldn't explain how things had turned out like this.
All he had done was give Marie some encouragement to keep going.
He and Marie had never really talked about anything deeper, and they knew almost nothing about each other.
"She's not angry, is she…?"
But Ernest was too busy struggling with his own anxiety and nerves, thinking about the lack of reply from his father.
The next evening, Ernest finally received the long-awaited letter from his father.
"To Ernest,
I had some things to take care of and ended up having a very busy day, so I haven't had much free time. I'm sorry for the late reply.
I'm glad you're getting good grades, of course, but I hope you're not pushing yourself too hard.
The outing plans can go ahead as scheduled. By the time you receive this letter, it will be two days from now for you.
I'll be waiting for you in front of the Military Academy's main gate on the morning two days from now. Let's meet again then.
Haires.」
"..."
Ernest read his father's surprisingly brief letter five times right there on the spot.
No matter how many times he read it, there was nothing new written that wasn't already there.
Haires didn't mention the medicine at all in the letter.
'Is he just saying he'll let it go and pretend it never happened? But why did he write such a short letter? Is he actually angry? Still, it doesn't really sound like he's upset.'
Even with that sharp mind of his, Ernest couldn't make any sense of the situation and just stood there, dumbfounded. Robert gave him a puzzled once-over, glancing him up and down.
"Has this kid really lost his mind lately?"
Ernest felt like he really was about to lose his mind.
He simply couldn't tell whether Haires was angry or had forgiven him.
This was the first time in his life Ernest had ever faced something like this, and since he couldn't talk about the medicine, it was hard to ask anyone else for advice either.
Ernest Krieger, age fourteen.
He'd always been such an honest, good-natured child that, when faced for the first time with the prospect of being scolded by his father for his own mistake, he had no idea how to handle it.