Chapter 41 - Compass of Bewilderment
To Father.
When I wrote to tell you about my upcoming outing, spring was still in full swing, but now summer has arrived.
I'm doing better than before.
I've gotten used to the Military Academy now, and I have a lot more friends.
Since you haven't replied to my last letter, I guess you must be very busy.
Are you doing well?
A few days ago, I participated in the Silver Horseshoe Tournament, but unfortunately, I didn't win.
If it hadn't been for that accident, I'm sure the victory would've been mine.
Really.
Still, I was able to receive the Silver Daffodil Award this time. They say it's awarded to cadets who compete with honor and make a noble decision. I really want to show it to you. I guess that means I'll have to schedule an outing soon.
Oh, and starting tomorrow, I'll be taking a new class—driving a Balt Automobile.
I'll finally get to try driving a Balt Automobile for myself.
They say it's easier than riding, so I don't think it'll be too hard.
I hope there will come a day when I can ride in a car with you.
I'll be waiting for your reply.
Ernest.
P.S. If you're still away from Grimman when you read this letter, the house will probably be a dusty mess by now. Let's clean up together again this time
***
"I'll say this once and for all—you nobles are all out of your minds."
"Jimman, you're a noble too now."
"Yeah, exactly. So I must be out of my mind, too. Why else would I be walking around in clothes this thick in this weather!"
Robert passionately argued, gripping his deep blue cadet uniform as if he wanted to rip it off at any moment.
"What's the problem! What's the big problem that we have to keep wearing these thick uniforms in this weather?"
"Robert, why don't you calm down and have a seat first?"
"Oh, Wilfried. Of course, it's you, Wilfried. Always so composed, even in situations like this! But you can't hide the fact that your hair is plastered to your forehead with sweat! You want to take off this damned cadet uniform, too! Just admit it already!"
Wilfried, who had tried to calm down the frenzied Robert, ended up getting caught up in his outburst instead.
Yet even under Robert's intense interrogation and in this stifling heat, Wilfried never lost his composure.
"Robert, yes, the weather is hot, but that doesn't mean I can just take off my jacket. I'm only wearing a shirt underneath."
"A shirt is enough, isn't it!"
"Robert, the only parts of a shirt meant to be seen by others are the collar and the cuffs. That means… it's basically underwear. Right?"
"That's the Duke's Young Master talking for you! Have you ever actually seen people walking down the street? There are people wearing nothing but shirts, and some with their entire upper bodies bare!"
Caught up in his anger, Robert blurted out "the Duke's Young Master"—a term not usually used in this way—but Wilfried didn't call him out on it.
"Robert, even if I don't know how commoners live, I'm not foolish enough to fall for lies like that. We're not barbarians living in the forest or mountains. How could a civilized citizen of the Empire do something like that?"
Wilfried was utterly convinced that Robert was teasing and trying to deceive him.
For Wilfried, as the Duke's Young Master, exposing any part of his shirt other than the collar and cuffs felt deeply humiliating, as the shirt was considered underwear.
That's why, even in the dormitory, Wilfried never committed the disgrace of wearing just his shirt.
He always wore his jacket on top, only changing into pajamas when it was time to sleep.
"Hey! Hey! Gather around, everyone! Let's educate this Duke's Young Master, who's lived his whole life in a luxurious mansion and knows nothing of a commoner's life, about how the real world works!"
Infuriated by Wilfried's suspicion, Robert called over the other minor noble cadets.
However, they were all so intimidated by Robert's repeated use of "Duke's Young Master" when referring to Wilfried that they shook their heads vigorously and turned away from him.
"See? They're all saying no."
Wilfried gave a small, mocking snort at the sight. Robert, frustrated to the core, thumped his chest before calling out to his most reliable friend for support.
"Ernest!"
"..."
"Krieger really can't handle the heat, can he."
But Ernest, who always had an especially hard time every summer because of the tonic, was in no condition to answer Robert.
Suffering from a terrible headache, Ernest slumped weakly in his chair, while the other cadets watched him with a mix of pity and concern, whispering among themselves.
"So, Robert, how exactly are you going to prove that commoners live so barbarically?"
Wilfried pressed Robert with a confident look.
In fact, Wilfried actually found moments like this quite enjoyable—especially when Robert openly called him "Duke's Young Master."
For just this moment, it felt as if he was not the Duke's Young Master, but a regular officer cadet like everyone else.
Robert had a real knack for turning situations that should have been offensive into something genuinely amusing.
Unlike a certain someone.
"Ugh, whatever!"
Cornered, Robert made a split-second decision. Without hesitation, he undid his tightly cinched belt and took off his dark blue cadet uniform jacket.
"Ahhh!"
Wilfried screamed in genuine surprise at Robert's totally unexpected antics. It would be stranger not to be shocked: in broad daylight, right outside with everyone watching, his friend had suddenly stripped down to his underwear.
"There! Look!"
"What on earth are you doing? Put that back on right now!"
"How is this underwear? Does this look like underwear to you?"
"Of course it's underwear! What else would it be?"
"Man, you're acting like you just saw a woman's underwear or something. That's a bit much."
"I don't want to see anyone's underwear, man or woman!"
Robert let out a sigh as he glanced at Wilfried, who was so startled he'd turned his head away entirely, and then flopped down into his chair.
"Ah! That feels better!"
"Robert, I get that you're hot, but if you don't wear your cadet uniform properly, you'll get a demerit."
"You guys should take yours off too. It's much cooler."
"Well, I'm sure it is, but…"
The other cadets looked at Robert, who had shed his jacket, and offered wry smiles.
It's not like they actually wanted to keep wearing their thick, woolen cadet uniforms in the scorching summer heat either.
"Why are you all acting so unfazed? Robert's sitting there in nothing but his shirt!"
Wilfried, gripped by shock and horror, spoke with a trembling voice. He was utterly convinced that everyone but himself must have lost their minds.
"…Commoners don't really care about stuff like this…"
Ernest, slumped over, murmured weakly.
"And even among nobles, not everyone makes a fuss over it. Mostly, people don't care—unless you're from a really strict family, that is."
"..."
When another cadet from a hereditary noble family chimed in, Wilfried—who had been born and raised under the watchful eyes of a very strict household—was struck completely speechless by the realization.
"Honestly, I'd rather just wear my shirt in our room too, but you're always so meticulous about being properly dressed…"
Even Wilfried's own roommate said that, making it crystal clear to him that the others really weren't just trying to trick him.
"This can't be happening…!"
"It absolutely can! You're the only one who didn't know! You sheltered brat!"
As Wilfried's orderly world collapsed into chaos, Robert declared his victory.
"If you take it off, you'll feel cooler too! Wilfried, just take off that wretched jacket!"
"…Jimman."
Robert, who had been urging Wilfried to take off his jacket, flinched at the low voice calling his name and slowly turned his head.
"I'm very confused right now. If what I'm seeing and hearing is correct, it sounds like you were just trying to forcibly undress your fellow classmate."
"L-Lieutenant Luther, I, uh…"
Lieutenant Norman Luther, who had gathered the cadets for today's training and then stepped out for a moment, now found himself completely at a loss for how to process the situation.
"I-Instructor! Is it really true that others just walk around in only their shirts? A shirt is clearly underwear!"
At that moment, Wilfried, still in turmoil, desperately appealed to Norman for answers. Since Norman was friendly with all the cadets, Wilfried felt comfortable enough to ask him directly. Maybe he just wanted to escape from this horrifying reality.
"It's pretty hard to wear a jacket in this summer heat. If you just take a look outside the Military Academy, out on Grimman's Street, you'll see plenty of people like that everywhere."
"..."
With even Instructor Norman saying that, Wilfried finally realized that everything he had believed to be reality was a lie. He was no different from livestock trapped in a pen. He'd simply been dancing to the tune of his owner, his father—the exalted Duke!
"Ravid seems to be acting a bit strange."
"Well, it's no wonder—his mind's gone fuzzy from wearing such a thick jacket in this heat!"
"Hmm, we should get Ravid into the shade and let him rest. Jimman, help him over there. And as for the rest of you, if you don't put your jackets on immediately, I'm docking points. I don't care what it's like outside—in the Military Academy, you're not allowed to go around in just your shirts."
"Yes, sir…"
"Answer properly."
"Yes, sir!"
Grumbling, Robert put that damn jacket back on and walked over to Wilfried.
"Oh, no, I'm fine. It's just… I'm a little… confused…"
Wilfried vehemently rejected Robert's approach and forced a smile toward Norman.
Norman looked at him with concern, but since Wilfried insisted he was fine, there was nothing more to say.
"Alright, then."
"Alright, then, let's begin the main lecture."
Norman looked around at the First-Year Cadets and grinned broadly.
"As you all probably know, the reason I called you outside today is because today's lesson will be on driving Balt Automobiles."
At Norman's words, everyone's eyes lit up. Even Ernest, who had been slumping before, seemed to come back to life.
The Balt Automobile had failed to become commercially widespread.
Manufacturing the cars themselves was difficult enough, but the main problem was the limited availability of Balt Batteries for vehicles.
As a result, Balt Automobiles were only permitted for use by the Imperial Army and a small number of High Nobles.
But now, they were being given the chance to drive one themselves.
"Once you're commissioned as officers, you'll generally have assigned drivers, so you won't have many opportunities to drive. Still, there will come a day when you'll have to take the wheel yourself—it's inevitable. There might not always be a driver available, and sometimes junior officers are assigned to drive for high-ranking officers."
After becoming Second Lieutenants, they'd be assigned drivers, so there'd be almost no need to drive themselves.
But in battle, their driver could be killed.
And for General Officer Rank officers, it was customary for Company-Grade Officers to act as their drivers.
Usually, these were people with connections, though.
"So, it's best for you to pay attention and learn. Most importantly, when a Balt Automobile gets into an accident, it's never a minor one."
Norman knew full well that these First-Year rookies wouldn't take his warning seriously during their first driving lesson.
Just look at those sparkling eyes.
He knew that today, too, there would be screams as cadets yanked the lever to stop the car.
More than one cadet had wrecked one of those expensive cars on their very first drive, thrilled by the rush and losing control. And, sadly, there had been more than a few fatalities from those accidents as well.
"I'll say it again: never let down your guard. You've probably heard somewhere that driving is easier than horseback riding. That's only half true."
Looking at the First Year cadets—who already seemed like accidents waiting to happen—Norman repeated his warning.
"A car responds exactly as its driver intends. If you want to accelerate, it accelerates. If you want to slow down, it slows down. Turn the wheel, and it goes wherever you want. Compared to riding a horse—which is a living creature you have to handle carefully and which takes a lot out of you—driving is undoubtedly easier and more convenient."
Norman spoke sternly, especially watching the two cadets known for their skill with horses, Ernest and Ferdinand.
"But that's exactly why driving is so dangerous. Unlike horses, cars don't avoid danger on their own. If the driver makes a mistake, the car won't stop for you—it'll crash straight into a wall or a tree, full force. If you're going slowly, maybe you'll just get injured. But if you're going fast, you could die."
Norman's repeated warnings finally drilled into the cadets—the dangers of driving were real.
Not long ago, in the finals of the Silver Horseshoe Tournament, Sebastian had almost died in an accident.
Even Ernest, who had reached out to grab Sebastian's hand, had nearly been thrown from his horse as well.
"So, for the love of God, don't get carried away on your first drive and do something reckless because you somehow think you're a natural. I don't want to end up cleaning up after your corpses. Understood?"
"Yes! Understood!"
"You all answer so well. Good. Now, does anyone already know how to drive?"
"Yes."
Two hands shot up in response to Norman's question.
One belonged to Ferdinand, the eldest grandson of Brigadier General Heinz Hartmann, and the other was Wilfried, the fourth son of Duke Ravid.
If you were the Chief of Staff's eldest grandson or the Duke's son, you might've had the chance to drive a Balt automobile before.
"All right, let's have Hartmann go first."
"Yes."
Ferdinand replied confidently and stepped forward.
When Norman signaled to the training instructor waiting outside the training ground, the instructor got into the practice car.
Vrooom...
The low, heavy sound of the Balt engine rumbled out.
The relatively small training car rolled into the training ground and stopped in front of the First-Year cadets.
"Ooooh..."
They had ridden in transport vehicles several times for mock battle training, but transport vehicles never really felt like being in a real car.
Plus, since they weren't the ones driving, it hadn't made much of an impression on them.
But seeing the relatively small car they would soon be driving start to move felt entirely different.
The reality of learning to drive hit them all at once.
"...Instructor, I've only ever handled cars with the driver's seat on the right."
But Wilfried couldn't help feeling flustered when he saw the car.
The cars he had learned to drive all had the driver's seat on the right side.
"In that case, you'll have to learn again. But don't worry. The basics are all the same; it's just the position that's different. Hartmann, you're fine with this, right?"
"Yes, I'm fine."
Ferdinand was used to cars with the driver's seat on the left.
Originally, cars had the driver's seat on the right.
This was because, when driving a carriage, the coachman sat on the right to handle the whip with his right hand.
However, as cars were used for longer periods, data accumulated showing that it was more convenient and safer to have the driver's seat on the left, so the change was made.
There were still some cars with the driver's seat on the right, mostly those used by High Noble Families who valued tradition and formality. All army vehicles, however, had switched to left-side driver's seats long ago.
So Wilfried couldn't drive this car, but Ferdinand could.
Ferdinand climbed into the car right away. Even though he already knew how to drive, he followed Norman's instructions step-by-step and completed the preparations for driving.
"All right. As expected, excellent work. Now, try moving slowly."
"Yes, Instructor."
Ferdinand pulled the gear lever with his right hand.
Screech...
The idling engine and the gears meshed, and the car began to move forward.
It's impossible to perfectly judge the exact moment when the gears engage with the engine, so some friction and resulting wear are inevitable.
However, experienced drivers can sometimes shift gears with such delicately precise timing that there's no wear from friction at all—it almost seems like magic.
"Good. Now, pick up speed and take a lap around the Training Ground."
Sitting in the passenger seat, Norman was greatly relieved by the thought that, at the very least, he wouldn't end up crashing into the wall and flying through the windshield.
Honestly, Ferdinand's driving was so good that he hardly needed any instruction.
Ferdinand shifted gears smoothly, accelerating with practiced ease. Since the engine kept running at the same power, the car maintained a steady speed according to the selected gear. To travel at speeds in between gears, you'd have to apply the brakes very gently.
Screeeech...
After completing a lap around the Training Ground and returning to his starting spot, Ferdinand disengaged all the gears to decelerate naturally.
Then, he pulled back the brake lever behind the gear shift to bring the car to a complete stop. When you pull the brake lever, the connected cord tightens.
This cord clamps down on the wheel axle, increasing friction and causing the car to slow.
"Good. Truly outstanding. Hartmann, if all cadets were like you, I wouldn't dread this lesson nearly as much."
"Thank you."
Receiving such heartfelt praise from Norman, Ferdinand got out of the car. Everyone applauded him as he did.
"As you've seen from Hartmann's demonstration, the controls themselves aren't difficult. But driving this smoothly is no easy feat. I'll start by teaching you the basics step by step, so everyone gather around."
"Yes!"
The cadets swarmed toward the car like ants to sugar at Norman's words.
Norman enthusiastically explained the operation and safety precautions of the automobile.
After all, he didn't want to lose his life in a traffic accident, side by side with a cadet who crashed into the Academy building at top speed because they pulled the wrong lever.
Norman had faced more life-threatening moments than he could count on both hands while teaching driving lessons.
"Understood? The lever in front is the gear shift, and the one behind is the brake. Gear in front, brake in back. Gear in front, brake in back."
Norman repeated several times, emphasizing the positions of the gear and brake levers.
He really didn't want to die.
"Alright, next up is Ravid. The controls will be reversed since you're left-handed, but that shouldn't be a problem, right?"
"Yes, no problem."
Having finally shaken off the confusion that had overtaken him when the shirt forced him to question everything he knew about the real world, Wilfried now spoke with confidence. Although he fumbled a little when starting and stopping due to the controls being reversed, he drove smoothly overall and was met with applause from everyone.
"Alright, who wants to drive next?"
"I'd like to try!"
"I'll go!"
As Norman, who was close with the cadets, grinned and spoke, the cadets enthusiastically raised their hands and shouted, eager for a turn. Norman watched them with a gentle smile, but then his face suddenly twisted with irritation.
"I already told you, this isn't a game."
Speaking with an uncharacteristically strict expression, Norman instantly silenced the group.
"Are you planning to kill me by treating this car like a toy? If you're that eager to die, go bang your head against a rock by yourself. Don't take me or this innocent car with you on your way."
Satisfied that the cadets had finally grasped the real danger and quieted down, Norman relaxed his expression. After sighing, he called on the one cadet who had not raised his hand.
"Krieger, you're up."
"Yes, Instructor."
"At least you seem to be taking this seriously, which is a relief."
Norman spoke with a resigned sigh as he watched Ernest step forward. While everyone else clamored for a chance to drive first, only Ernest quietly watched the car.
But in truth, Ernest also wanted to drive before anyone else. The reason he stayed quiet was because the heat had made him sweat, quickly sapping his energy and leaving his head throbbing.
Nevertheless, as Ernest got to drive right after Ferdinand and Wilfried, he didn't hesitate to climb into the car.
"Take it slow. Whatever you do, never rush it."
"Yes, sir."
Just as he had been taught, Ernest acted carefully. He pulled and released the starter lever to get the stalled engine running again.
Clack!
Vroom...!
The starter and Balt Battery collided, causing a small explosion. That impact pushed the starter, and the rebounding starter snapped back and struck the battery again.
This repeated rapidly, and the engine soon roared to life.
"All right. Now shift into gear."
"Yes."
Once the engine stabilized, Ernest pulled the gear lever.
Screech...
There was a slight grinding metallic sound from the friction between the engine and the gears, but there was no major issue. As the gears engaged, the car began to move forward.
With his left hand gripping the steering wheel, Ernest focused all his attention. The throbbing headache from the heat still stabbed at him, but it wasn't enough to break his concentration.
"Krieger."
"Yes."
"Krieger!"
"Yes?"
Ernest was startled when Norman suddenly shouted at him. Only then did he realize, in a panic, that the car was slowly heading straight toward the wall of the Training Ground as if it meant to crash right through it. He hurriedly pulled the brake lever.
Screeeech!
"Ugh...!"
Norman gritted his teeth and quickly reached over to shove the gear lever. If you pull the brake that hard while the gears are engaged and the car's moving, the friction could snap the belt that keeps the drive shaft in place.
Fortunately, thanks to Norman's quick reflexes, the car managed to stop with enough distance from the wall.
"Krieger! Where on earth is your head right now!"
Norman shouted furiously. And honestly, it was impossible not to be mad under the circumstances.
"Turn the wheel and change direction! You're not usually this clueless!"
Norman was so worked up that he spoke to Ernest the way he would normally address the cadets, not in his calm, lecture tone.
"…Ah, the steering wheel…"
But Ernest was just as flustered.
Honestly, Ernest had completely forgotten that he needed to turn the wheel to change direction.
After all, when he rode horses, he never needed a whip or spurs for the horse to obey him, so the idea that he had to do something extra just to change direction felt incredibly foreign!
He had genuinely believed that, like with horses, the car would somehow steer itself in the direction he wanted. Even as his hands rested on the wheel, he still thought that.
"Alright, Krieger. Let's try again. One more time. This time, make sure you turn the wheel. Understood?"
"Yes, understood."
Ernest answered nervously, then shifted gears and turned the wheel.
"Krieger!"
Even though he was moving slowly, the sudden sharp turn sent their bodies lurching to the side from the centrifugal force. Norman's shriek, almost like a cry of despair, echoed pitifully.
"Easy with the wheel! Easy!"
"Uh, how easy is easy supposed to be!"
"Just turn it gently! Can't you see what I mean!"
Even though Ernest was a superb horseman, he had actually never once 'steered' a horse before, so he truly had no idea what Norman meant.
Still, thankfully, Ernest wasn't a complete fool—with every wobbling, staggering lap around the Training Ground, he gradually grew more accustomed to driving.
Screeeech…
The car came to a perfect stop back where it had started. Ernest followed all the steps, using the brake just right.
Bang!
"..."
"..."
The moment the car stopped, the door flew open, and both Ernest and Norman tumbled out as if fleeing for their lives.
They'd only driven around the Training Ground once, but both looked as if they'd just finished an all-night march, drenched in sweat.
"…Driving is nothing like riding a horse."
Norman's voice was rough and broken as he muttered under his breath. It sounded almost like the sob of someone who had narrowly escaped death itself.
"I trust everyone was watching closely."
No one could possibly misunderstand Norman's point after watching Ernest—who moved like one with his horse during Equestrian Skills—make Norman scream on nearly every turn around the Training Ground.
Norman needed a break, to settle the thrill of survival and the terror he'd just experienced. While he leaned against the car, eyes closed, steadying himself, Ernest wandered back, drained and dazed, to rejoin the First-Year Cadets.
"I'm never getting in a car you're driving."
It was Ferdinand who suddenly said that with such a serious face. And his words perfectly captured how everyone else felt.
"…I wouldn't get in a car I was driving, either."
Ernest wholeheartedly agreed with him.
Today, of all days, Ernest found himself missing Drek more than ever.