Ascendance of a Bookworm (LN) - Volume Short Story - Chapter 4

Rauffen — Wondrous Ditter

Ditter is the means by which a person can win what they need and defend what they treasure. Lord Lestilaut and Lady Rozemyne had just guided the apprentice knights of their duchies in battle. The prize? Mastery over magic tools. The game? Treasure-stealing ditter. The rules were a bit unusual, but it was the first time this game had been played in the Royal Academy for... I don’t know how many years. In each team’s territory was its archduke candidate, and they had to win through skill and knowledge; the very sight made my heart race with excitement. And it seemed the students had felt the same way—even those who had only spectated.

“I never even considered that we might lose...” one apprentice knight said. “I mean, we were only up against Ehrenfest.”

“Our knights have so much more training under their belts, but Lady Rozemyne’s scheming flipped it all upside down,” another agreed. “It was enough to make my breath catch in my throat. To think someone who looks so innocent has such a devilish mind...”

“We’re used to speed ditter, but with this? We had no idea what was going to happen. That actually made things a lot more exciting.”

“Yeah. I’ve never been this excited about a ditter match before. It was completely different from the normal version.”

Some students seemed genuinely excited about the match, despite the fact their duchy had just lost, while others appeared to disagree with the results. One thing in particular had caught my attention, though—the way they compared treasure-stealing ditter to what they were used to.

Huh... I guess speed ditter is considered the norm now.

In the past, when someone mentioned ditter, they were always referring to the treasure-stealing version. But after the civil war, treasure-stealing ditter had become harder to play, and the Academy had ended up with no choice but to switch. It seemed that so many years had passed since then that students were now more accustomed to speed ditter—which wasn’t at all good in the long term.

“If we’d played normal ditter, we would have won,” one student said.

A second student nodded in agreement and then turned to me. “Professor Rauffen, isn’t it against the rules to ambush us while we’re bringing the treasure back? In speed ditter, that’s like hiding behind us while the professor summons the feybeast and then attacking us the moment it appears.” Some were evidently so focused on what they were used to that they were convinced Ehrenfest had cheated.

I chuckled and shook my head. “Speed ditter only begins when the professor sends out the feybeast—you’re right in that regard—but treasure-stealing ditter starts the moment you start hunting the treasure. In other words, the match had already begun. They didn’t cheat at all.”

A number of students didn’t seem satisfied with my answer. I snorted; by having such a soft mindset, they were pretty much asking for one of the knights who had played treasure-stealing ditter back at the Interduchy Tournament to give them a good scolding.

“You know how the ditter played at the Interduchy Tournament changed from treasure-stealing ditter to speed ditter due to population problems, right?” I said. “Before then, there were even crueler tacticians—men who constantly ambushed the apprentice knights as they looked for treasure, continued malicious attacks and tricks on other duchies until the very moment their duchy lost, and threw the Interduchy Tournament into chaos without fail.”

“Are you talking about the Lord of Evil? The man who focused not on making his duchy win, but on causing chaos and ensuring that the expected winner lost...?”

“That’s right. Do you know the details?” I asked, recalling that the topic had come up among the first-years during class. It had been when Hirschur described Lady Rozemyne as the man’s disciple, from what I remembered.

“My uncle told me about him,” a student said. “He won against half of the other duchies by traveling around in a party of two or three knights and crushing groups of maybe five or six that went out for treasure. He also used cruel magic tools that brought his opponents within an inch of their lives, and destroyed or even stole rejuvenation potions from others, refusing to return them unless they dropped out of the game... But surely not all of the stories could be true, could they?”

I grinned to myself, realizing that the Lord of Evil had become something of an old wives’ tale to the older knights. The best part was that all of the stories were in fact true.

After all, the more accurate the stories get, the more you should be agonizing over how merciless he was to his enemies.

“And that Lord of Evil just so happens to be Lady Rozemyne’s guardian: Lord Ferdinand,” I said. “According to Ehrenfest’s dormitory supervisor, they’re like teacher and student.”

“Wha...?”

Back then, the bulk of one’s socializing time had been spent preparing for treasure-stealing ditter. The weak lesser duchies would gather intel and figure out which greater duchy to form a united front with, while greater duchies put their all into figuring out each other’s plans. It had essentially been tradition for lesser and middle duchies to serve under greater duchies in a free-for-all battle of glorious scale.

Of course, through the use of devious trickery, this tradition had been turned on its head—and by none other than Lord Ferdinand, who had at the time been an archduke candidate from Ehrenfest. He would attack a greater duchy squad as it left to secure feybeasts as treasure, inform the middle duchies serving them of his success to seduce them into launching a betrayal, and then subsequently smash the greater duchy to bits while annihilating the lesser duchies sent scattering from the fallout.

That wasn’t to say that his plots always resulted in a victory for Ehrenfest—in fact, he was often so focused on attacking other duchies that he devoted few troops and very little attention to protecting his own treasure, meaning his duchy never won. Even so, his influence on ditter couldn’t be overstated.

In retaliation, the apprentice scholars had desperately started to research new magic tools to guard against their opponents’ surprise attacks and reinforce their own. It was hard to believe now, but many exceedingly violent magic tools had been invented for and revealed during treasure-stealing games at the Interduchy Tournament, whereupon duchies would purchase them later for feybeast hunting at home.

Incidentally, Lord Ferdinand had been an exceptionally skilled apprentice scholar himself, as well as Hirschur’s disciple. He had made new magic tools each year for his ambushes, and the others he produced were always in very high demand. His presence meant that even the apprentice attendants had needed to remain alert at all times to gather intelligence and secure supply lines, and the customers at the Interduchy Tournament were more lively and numerous due to the excitement of the winning duchy changing each year.

“Compared to his intricate plots and the way he threw all the other duchies into bloody chaos without a moment’s hesitation or mercy, Lady Rozemyne’s little surprise attacks were nothing more than child’s play.”

“You call them child’s play, but Lady Rozemyne’s strategies were positively magnificent!” Clarissa protested, almost champing her teeth as she argued. She was a well-known scholar of the sword—it was a Dunkelfelger trademark to have scholars prioritize combat over books—and was shaking her head in such passionate disagreement that her scorched-brown braid swung from side to side. “After failing the knight exam for being too short and weak, seeing such a tiny girl make a fool out of our apprentice knights has absolutely inspired me.”

The vast majority of our duchy’s students wanted to be knights, but we couldn’t let them all take the knight course—we needed attendants and scholars too. Thus, there was a selection exam held from one’s baptism to the day they entered the Royal Academy. Those who failed but still trained as much as any knight were called scholars or attendants of the sword. They had wanted to become knights more than anything, and in a way, they were more attached to ditter than the apprentice knights themselves.

“Who else would think to guard their treasure inside their highbeast?” Clarissa continued, her Dunkelfelger-blue eyes burning with passion as she clenched her fists and continued singing Lady Rozemyne’s praises. “I mean, how many knights have more mana than an archduke candidate, really? Basically none!”

“I thought it was a very interesting idea myself. That can’t be the only thing that caught your attention, though. What else did you notice?” I said, urging her to continue. I wanted to know more about what the observing apprentice scholars had thought of the match.

“The guts she had to participate in a sudden unplanned game of treasure-stealing ditter makes her fit to be a general—fit to lead countless knights! Putting aside their pros and cons, the fact that she came up with plots that could actually be used in battle—and at such short notice—shows just what a quick thinker she is. There’s no doubt that Lady Rozemyne’s intellect is her greatest weapon!”

So she’s got guts, and she’s a quick thinker, huh? It seemed that while some apprentice knights were exhibiting enough grace to praise their enemy after losing and others were trying to figure out what they themselves lacked, Clarissa was focusing on something else entirely.

“I’m told you suggested the game of ditter out of the blue, Professor Rauffen,” she continued. “That means the match happened without warning. You say that tactician of the past was great, but Lady Rozemyne didn’t even have the chance to prepare magic tools like he did. And even then, she was able to form such a complex strategy before the game began, using only the magic tools she had at hand. I just... I just can’t...!”

Her eyes were now burning so passionately that even I found it a little off-putting—but many of the other students were agreeing with her. I coolly acknowledged the fires burning in their hearts and chewed over what Clarissa had said.

It certainly isn’t easy to make a scheme in a short amount of time and with such limited tools...

In the past, spats before the Interduchy Tournament hadn’t been all that unusual, and Lord Ferdinand had attended the Royal Academy during the midst of the civil war, when a fight always seemed to be lurking around the corner. Back then, everyone had carried weapons and secret magic tools to use in emergencies.

After the war, however, the entire country had been greatly weakened. Duchies had stopped fighting among themselves, although not really by choice—they simply lacked the strength and resources to continue. Life in the Royal Academy had become a lot less dangerous as a result, so students didn’t walk around with that many magic tools anymore.

“For the past few years, not even apprentice knights have had experience playing treasure-stealing ditter or making schemes,” I muttered, “and yet she managed to come up with several using nothing more than her highbeast and the tools she had with her. How did she manage that, I wonder? Are those really skills that can be taught? Maybe she’s just a ditter prodigy.”

“Of course she is!” Clarissa exclaimed, her nose flaring. “She’s the Saint of Ehrenfest, you know! She looks that young because she spent two whole years in a jureve, which means she’s two years behind in her education too! She couldn’t have learned anything while she was asleep!”

Clarissa was right, and that realization left me blinking in surprise. Back when Aub Ehrenfest had requested for Lady Rozemyne to attend with special arrangements, we professors had simply hoped that she wouldn’t fail and need to drop out immediately. Of course, she had then massively exceeded our expectations by passing all of her classes on the first day—a feat so blindingly brilliant that we hadn’t actually stopped to consider the deeper implications.

“Lady Clarissa, are you suggesting that Lady Rozemyne has been honing her talent for warfare since birth?” I asked.

“I was suspicious about it up until now, but one of her retainers said that she was adopted by Ehrenfest’s archduke due to having an abundance of mana. She was the daughter of their knight commander, so perhaps she was trained in battle from a young age.”

“And if the Lord of Evil took her as his disciple, maybe he’s trained her in ditter.”

The students grew excited as they came up with theories to explain how Lady Rozemyne had come to be so talented. Of course, Clarissa was the most impassioned among them.

“If she were a Dunkelfelger archduke candidate, I would swear loyalty to her right here and now!” she declared. It reminded me of the apprentice knights of my day, who had stomped their feet with frustration that Lord Ferdinand hadn’t been born in Dunkelfelger.

“Why not just win the heart of one of her retainers?” I suggested, holding back the urge to laugh at such fond memories.

“How would that work? I don’t want to marry into Ehrenfest; I want to serve Lady Rozemyne. And no one who’s ever married into Dunkelfelger has gone on to serve a member of the archducal family, have they?”

“It’s not common, no, but you might be able to negotiate your way into accompanying her to the Archduke Conference. It’s not entirely unheard of—although I think you need some time to cool your head first. You’re getting too worked up about all this,” I said and then turned to the students who were still eagerly theorizing about Lady Rozemyne’s education. “And that goes for you lot too. There’s no point doing all this speculation. I mean, why do you think apprentice scholars exist? Why do attendants hold tea parties? Your delusions are worthless, especially when the truth is within our reach.”

Everyone shut their mouths at my criticism, but the fires were still raging in their eyes. I couldn’t let those flames die out; with some expert guidance, the students would all grow in their areas of interest.

“Aub Ehrenfest withdrew his request for Lady Rozemyne to be given a special environment at the end of autumn, and since then, she has won in ditter, attained first-in-class status, and started spreading several new trends. These are the facts we know. Professor Pauline told me that Lady Rozemyne also met Prince Anastasius at one of her tea parties, so we can assume that her personal influence is going to rise even faster from next year onward. Now, this is just a theory—and a theory is nothing but a delusion without evidence to back it up. Starting tomorrow, you lot need to start gathering intelligence on Lady Rozemyne. That way, all these excited speculations of yours can be based on concrete facts.”

“Yes, sir!” the apprentice scholars of the sword shouted in response, while the apprentice attendants began planning to hold tea parties with Ehrenfest.

“We shouldn’t have any trouble inviting Lady Rozemyne to a tea party,” one apprentice attendant noted, “since Ehrenfest is a neutral duchy and she’s an archduke candidate the same age as Lady Hannelore. What if we help her spread trends in return for her telling us things?”

“Inviting her to tea parties wouldn’t be unnatural,” an apprentice scholar replied. “Lady Rozemyne and Lady Hannelore should already be socializing at least a little, since they’re in the same classes. We also know that Lady Hannelore has been concerned about us bothering Ehrenfest before, so we could frame this meeting as a good way for her to apologize. She would almost certainly be behind the idea then.”

There was a palpable sense of anticipation in the air, and the apprentice scholars and attendants seemed to speak with a sense of urgency that had long been missing. It was great.

“You apprentice knights need more practice playing treasure-stealing ditter,” I said. “Make sure Dunkelfelger doesn’t lose another game!”

The apprentice knights roared in response. I would increase their training regimen from tomorrow onward, using a rematch with Ehrenfest as encouragement, and start going through treasure-stealing ditter strategies with them. I also intended to use this opportunity to probe the Royal Academy about having the knight course shift away from speed ditter and back to the treasure-stealing kind.

I’ll ask the other professors about it tomorrow.

We dormitory supervisors headed out right after breakfast to start preparing for our classes. It was as I made my way to the knight building that I saw a familiar woman walking ahead of me—Fraularm, the dormitory supervisor of Ahrensbach. She spoke in a shrill voice and tended to rant for what seemed like an eternity once she got going. I slowed down, hoping to avoid the tedium that came with getting ensnared in her web. My efforts were in vain, however, as she soon turned around and spotted me.

“Oh my. Good morning, Rauffen,” she said. “I was informed that Dunkelfelger lost to Ehrenfest in ditter the other day. Is that true, I wonder?” she asked, smirking as if extremely pleased about our defeat. She wouldn’t be the only one, I wagered.

Maybe I should tell the apprentice knights not to fall for taunts and get wrapped up in fights. Or maybe I should do the opposite and advise them to start more fights... That way, both duchies involved would get more experience with treasure-stealing ditter.

“The first-year archduke candidate Lady Rozemyne displayed incredible leadership skills,” I replied. “We are grateful that she identified our weak points, and the apprentice knights are—”

“My, my, my! Lady Rozemyne took charge, you say? But that position of authority should belong to a man—to Lord Wilfried, no less!” Fraularm exclaimed with an exaggerated look of shock. Her overcritical tone reminded me of the rumor that she had been attacked by Lady Rozemyne’s highbeast. In other words, saying anything complimentary about the young Ehrenfest student didn’t seem very wise.

Sensing my mistake, I noted that Lord Wilfried had been absent and swiftly changed the subject. “As I feared, the change in curriculum following the civil war is finally starting to show its cracks.”

“Just what do you mean by that? Are you saying the new professors and courses are inadequate?” Fraularm demanded, grimacing with clear displeasure. Only then did I remember that she herself had been hired after the civil war. It seemed that I had touched a nerve.

She’s such an annoying person to talk to.

“In the knight course,” I clarified at once. “I feel that playing speed ditter in the Interduchy Tournament is encouraging students to focus so much on attack power that they forget to hone any other skills. They’re getting too comfortable, and there is much they should learn that they have not. I think it would be best if we returned to—”

“My, my! Too comfortable, you say?!” Fraularm exclaimed, interrupting me again. I put up my guard, unsure what had spurred her wrath this time, but instead of saying anything more, she just started mumbling to herself.

Hm? Has she just figured out something to do with her research?

Professors of the scholar course tended to be at least partially focused on their research at all times, so whenever something came up that seemed even the slightest bit useful, they would abandon everything to pursue it. I spent a lot of time with all sorts of professors in the Royal Academy, so unfortunately for me, I was used to this kind of peculiar behavior.

I could probably go on ahead to class now...

It would be simple to pass by her, but if you broke the focus of a scholar professor deep in thought, they tended to get up in your face and complain about it for days. You had to be careful.

I tried sneaking away, but Fraularm suddenly clapped her hands together. “Rauffen, I agree with you entirely—we professors must rethink many things to prevent our students from becoming too comfortable. I thank you ever so much for your exceedingly wise insight.”

And with that, she walked off, seemingly in a very good mood all of a sudden. I didn’t have a clue what kind of thoughts had been running through her head, but I was glad she was gone. I patted my chest with relief and headed on to the knight dormitory.

Those stubborn idiots!

I had spoken to the other professors on the knight course about our ditter game against Ehrenfest, how apprentice knights were growing increasingly incompetent, and the dangers that came from them not knowing a thing about treasure-stealing ditter. My points had been pretty solid, but they had just said, “Treasure-stealing ditter puts too much of a burden on lesser duchies. Why do you think we changed the coursework in the first place?”

In other words, the stubborn professors had shot down my idea without a second thought.

If the students can’t do proper knight work at the Royal Academy, why do the professors think they’ll be able to do it once they go back to their home duchies?!

A portion of the funding for Royal Academy classes came from the Sovereignty, while the rest came from individual duchies. Naturally, greater duchies provided the most, while lesser duchies provided only a small amount. And yet, the students all received the same education. How did these professors not realize that treasure-stealing ditter was best for those from lesser duchies who wouldn’t be able to play it at home? Playing here was the best way for them to get experience.

Still, dwelling on the matter wouldn’t change the fact that they had refused. It was better to focus on the things I could make happen on my own. If changing the Royal Academy’s policies was too ambitious, I just needed to start within my own sphere of influence.

Guess I’ll just have to make sure Dunkelfelger gets trained properly, at least...

The apprentice knights were already excited about improving in treasure-stealing ditter, and I didn’t want to waste this opportunity. Thankfully, the Dunkelfelger Dormitory had its own training grounds. We could easily train there.

Once my classes for the day were over, I returned to the dormitory and gathered the apprentice knights just outside the training grounds. I instructed them to split into two teams and practice playing treasure-stealing ditter, but no sooner had they started than an ordonnanz shot past me. I furrowed my brow, wondering who had sent it and whom they had sent it to.

One of my questions didn’t remain unanswered for long—Lord Lestilaut entered with his retainers and looked over the two groups of apprentice knights. “Rauffen, stop this foolishness and have them train in speed ditter,” he said. “Ranking highly in the Interduchy Tournament is clearly more important than this. We must defeat Ehrenfest. Is that understood?”

He was speaking with the arrogant attitude he so consistently adopted, but that wasn’t good at all. The knights learning to coordinate, think, and properly grow strong was infinitely more important than the Interduchy Tournament rankings.

“I have to strongly disagree,” I called as he turned and made his way to leave. “Treasure-stealing ditter and speed ditter are entirely different. Both require unique skill sets. Why would you say that treasure-stealing ditter practice is irrelevant?”

“Hmph. Treasure-stealing ditter is out of date. It will never be popular now.”

Despite the ditter game back then having been incredible enough to open the eyes of the apprentice knights, it seemed that the heart of our archduke candidate remained unmoved. Lord Lestilaut was uncooperative, and since Lady Hannelore hadn’t seen the match, all she had to contribute to the matter was asking me to please stop bothering Ehrenfest.

How am I supposed to feel good about the future when our very own archduke candidates are acting like this?

I wanted Lord Lestilaut to learn from Lady Rozemyne, who carefully analyzed her allies’ faults and her enemies’ strengths, such that she could praise her foes even after emerging victorious. At this rate, our students were going to get so drunk on our tournament win streak that we’d end up losing all over again. It was only a matter of time before we came tumbling down.

“Ditter is not meant to be practice for slaying feybeasts,” I argued. “It is training for a battle in which one expends all they have to obtain what they want or protect what they hold dear. Having offensive strength does not immediately guarantee one’s victory. Do you not understand this?”

Lord Lestilaut grimaced, making no attempt to hide his displeasure. It was a silent order for me to hold my tongue, but I continued nonetheless. He needed to understand this. He needed to face his defeat head-on and learn from it, not just for his own sake but for the sake of Dunkelfelger’s future.

“I suggested treasure-stealing ditter back then because I wanted to see how Ehrenfest would respond,” I revealed.

“What do you mean?” Lord Lestilaut asked, blinking in surprise.

“Until recently, Ehrenfest has prioritized going with the flow above all else. It remained neutral during the civil war and followed any orders it received from the top-ranking duchies without fail. In this case, however, Ehrenfest showed an iron resolve to maintain its place even when Dunkelfelger, the second-ranked duchy joined up with many other duchies, ordered its compliance. You are an archduke candidate, Lord Lestilaut; did you not feel that was strange? Did you think Lady Rozemyne was being an annoying brat and nothing else?”

Presumably, Lord Lestilaut hadn’t given the situation much thought. He crossed his arms and glared at me, indicating that I should continue. I could tell that he didn’t like what I was saying but found it meaningful enough to be worth hearing.

“We don’t know what value Ehrenfest is deriving from the library’s magic tools,” I explained. “Lady Rozemyne said she would rather have an archnoble librarian be their master, and that she would give them to one who frequently visited the library to supply them with mana. She also said that she would never give them to someone who couldn’t care for them properly, even if that person was a Dunkelfelger archduke candidate. The more important these tools are to Ehrenfest, the more they need to be able to protect them.”

“And is that why you suggested we play treasure-stealing ditter?”

“Ideally, the heirlooms of royalty would be protected by those strong enough to ensure their safety. It would be dangerous to leave them with Ehrenfest, a member of no faction, if they did not even have the strength to protect them.”

Lord Lestilaut sniffed. “So, in short, you used us to test whether they were strong enough to protect those heirlooms.”

“I wouldn’t put it quite so harshly. As your dormitory supervisor, Lord Lestilaut, I did intend to help you. And although I did wish to see how Ehrenfest would respond, at the time, I saw no reason to believe Dunkelfelger might lose.”

My taunting made Lord Lestilaut grit his teeth; indeed, nobody had expected Ehrenfest to seize victory. It was likely that even Prince Anastasius had determined it was better for Dunkelfelger to have the magic tools as members of the victorious side of the civil war than a duchy that had refrained from taking sides.

“However,” I continued, “in contrast to the expectations of all, Ehrenfest won. Do you know why that is?”

“Of course. They won because they used deceitful and downright cowardly trickery rather than fighting directly and courageously. Had it not been for her evil tactics, we clearly would have won.”

“Correct,” I replied with a nod.

Lord Lestilaut stared at me through narrowed eyes, trying to discern my true intentions. “Were you not praising those evil tactics just moments ago?” he asked.

“She used brains to make up for her duchy’s lack of brawn, pushed magic tools to their limits, and formed a plot to secure victory. In other words, she embraced the heart of treasure-stealing ditter. If you want to know why the battle ended as it did, the answer is simple: Dunkelfelger has grown too used to the ways of speed ditter, while Lady Rozemyne likely knew nothing of speed ditter and simply sought ways to secure her victory.”

Of course, that hadn’t been the only reason for her success; the crafty plots she had come up with one after another had been more masterful than anyone would expect from a first-year archduke candidate.

“Do you know what makes speed and treasure-stealing ditter so different, Lord Lestilaut? Do you know what they were originally intended to serve as training for?”

“Yes, of course,” Lord Lestilaut replied, raising an eyebrow in apparent frustration that I would ask something so obvious. “Speed ditter was a competition to see who could most efficiently hunt the growing number of feybeasts within the duchy, was it not? Surely nothing is more important to knights than improving their ability to quickly and decisively eliminate such threats.”

I nodded and then said, “However,” my voice now loud enough that all the apprentice knights in the training grounds could hear, “feybeasts generally act according to their species. They do not vary from the expected, so hunting them tends to make one’s fighting style uniform. That is why our modern apprentice knights have no idea what to do when unexpected events occur and our chain of command crumbles.”

“And you believe that is why we lost?”

“Yes, to a considerable degree. Unlike summoned feybeasts, the enemies in treasure-stealing ditter are human beings as well. One must think hard and carefully to avoid defeat. Consider what could be done to flip the situation around, or what traps the enemy is likely to set.”

It was completely different from hunting formulaic feybeasts. You had no idea what plots your enemies were coming up with or what magic tools they had. Sure, there were general strategies and rules of thumb for battle, but rarely would your opponent actually follow them.

“As your match against Ehrenfest has demonstrated,” I continued, “knights don’t get collectively stronger by rushing to kill summoned feybeasts in a controlled environment. As the future aub of Dunkelfelger, you should understand what makes this lack of progress so dangerous.”

“Do you mean to say I should embrace the schemes of cowards simply because treasure-stealing ditter is a way of preparing for battles over the foundation of one’s duchy?” Lord Lestilaut asked, glaring at me.

“I’m not saying that you need to embrace them; I just want you to know that it’s pointless to complain about them after you inevitably lose.”

Treasure-stealing ditter served as a way for archdukes to practice coordinating and fighting with their knights. It encouraged them to think as hard as they could about how to protect something—a skill that would prove crucial if their foundation one day became the target of another duchy. Complaining about cowardice and evil was all well and good in times of peace, but it wouldn’t do anything to help reclaim stolen land. Of course, that was assuming they were even afforded time to complain; in most cases, an archducal family that lost its duchy was swiftly executed.

“Rauffen!” Lord Lestilaut shouted, suddenly red-faced. He whipped out his schtappe, causing a stir to run through the apprentice knights, but I simply whipped out my own and continued taunting him.

“Lord Lestilaut, you rebuked the apprentice knights for their defeat, but I didn’t see you trying to lead your duchy as Lady Rozemyne did. Are you not ashamed? Can you really call yourself the next aub of Dunkelfelger?”

“How dare you! Schwert!” Lord Lestilaut morphed his schtappe into a sword and charged at me. “Do you mean to say I’m not fit to be the next archduke?!”

“Everyone, stand down! Schwert!” I avoided his attack, then morphed my own schtappe into a sword. Those around us let out cries of surprise and hurriedly backed away. “Did you really gain nothing from that game of ditter except petulant anger?”

He offered no response.

“If so, there’s no way I can deny that you lack the self-awareness and mindset required of a proper aub, Lord Lestilaut.”

“Silence!”

Lord Lestilaut swung at me again and again, his movements sharp. He was fairly strong—as one would expect, since he trained on a more regular basis than the archduke candidates of other duchies—but that still wasn’t enough to beat me, a professor of the knight course. He worked on honing his skills more than most, but I trained every day and night. Not to mention, he was entrusting so much to anger that he was fighting even more sloppily and predictably than he did during our usual training.

“If an archduke loses their duchy, they have nothing!” I roared. That was why apprentice knights had always trained through treasure ditter, a form of mock war. “Do you not understand this?! Knights need to train to protect their duchy!”

Had the Dunkelfelger knights simply remained calm, Lady Rozemyne’s plots could have been dealt with easily. That was why they needed more training—to be able to deal even with the unexpected. It seemed that my pleas hadn’t worked on Lord Lestilaut, however; with gritted teeth and a ferocious glare, he adjusted his grip on his sword.

“That’s all talk of the past!” he snarled. “Yurgenschmidt doesn’t have the strength required for another war! There’s no point in us training for one!”

There was some truth to his words—the civil war and purge had indeed crippled the entire country, and not a single duchy had the leeway to target another’s land. At the moment, even if such an attempt proved successful, the extra territory would only be an immense burden. At the very least, I could commend the fact that members of the archducal family clearly saw what a tragic situation the country was in.

“You seem so certain that the situation our country’s in will continue forever,” I said, “and that’s precisely why you’re still a kid.”

“What?!”

Lord Lestilaut swung down hard, allowing me to briskly knock his weapon from his hands. His eyes locked on his blade as it spun through the air, and I used that opportunity to grab him by the cape, flip him over, and pin him to the ground.

“If you let your guard down, Lord Lestilaut, your duchy’s foundation will soon belong to another.”

“Ngh...”

“Events of such enormous importance—that flip the very world on its head—always happen when one lets their guard down.”

Back when I was a student, nobody had expected a civil war to happen and cripple the country. At the time, the second prince had received the Grutrissheit, and everyone had assumed he would take over as king—that is, before he suddenly died right after the king he was meant to succeed. The Grutrissheit had then been lost, and the civil war had occurred.

Around ten years had passed since then, with the civil war, the purge, and so on all having led to this moment. Nobody could say that another equally great change might not happen again.

“Dunkelfelger is the Zent’s sword,” I said. “Above all else, we need the power to react to any situation at a moment’s notice.”

“Rauffen...”

“Had that game of treasure-stealing ditter been real ditter, you would have lost your troops, your duchy, and even its foundation to Ehrenfest, Lord Lestilaut.”

After helping Lord Lestilaut to his feet, I fixed him with as stern a look as I could manage. I wanted him to understand. I needed him to agree.

“If you cannot face your defeat against Lady Rozemyne and use it as fuel to improve, then when you one day become the aub, you will only repeat your mistakes,” I concluded. “You must not interfere with the training of the apprentice knights. Instead, spend your time learning to become an aub fit for Dunkelfelger.”

We stared at each other for a while, until eventually Lord Lestilaut turned to depart. “The attendants of the sword will suffice as my guards in the dormitory. Guard knights, remain here.”

“Lord Lestilaut, we—”

He cut his right hand through the air, silencing his retainers’ protests. “Rauffen, I entrust the training of my guard knights and the rest of the apprentices to you.”

“So it shall be done.”