Chapter 48 - The Place Called Home (3)
Tomorrow is finally the long-awaited day off. But Ernest simply couldn't enjoy this moment at all.
"Haa..."
Unless there was a mock combat review session hosted by Wilfried, Ernest usually spent most of his free time studying or horseback riding. But right now, he was just wandering around his room in circles, sighing over and over.
"..."
Robert just ignored him. Ernest had been sighing all day, and Robert didn't even want to care anymore. If he did it a few more times, he'd probably hit a hundred sighs—though maybe he'd already passed that number.
If Ernest would just say what was bothering him, Robert might actually talk with him about it. But Ernest was stubbornly keeping his mouth shut. Robert had no idea what was going on, and there was no way to talk to him. Not that he could physically force him to quiet down, so ignoring him was all he could do.
Knock, knock.
In the end, Ernest didn't get anything done until Marie showed up. Since Marie arrived near the end of free time, that meant Ernest spent his entire break sighing like that.
"Hi."
When Ernest opened the door, Marie greeted him first.
"Hi, Marie."
Ernest greeted her as well.
Marie gazed at him for a moment, then tilted her head slightly.
"Is it because of your leave?"
"Yeah..."
Marie clearly remembered Ernest mentioning he had all sorts of things to deal with because of going out.
"Can't you just not go?"
Marie spoke in a quiet voice.
If it was such a problem, wouldn't it be easier to simply not go on leave?
Ernest let out a heavy sigh and crouched down in front of Marie.
Ernest was tall for his age, and Marie was the smallest among her peers, but now, in this position, Ernest had to look up at her.
Resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hand, he spoke weakly.
"Marie, sometimes you come up against problems you just can't avoid."
"Bullshit."
It wasn't Marie who replied to Ernest's words, but Robert.
Robert had endured Ernest's nonsense for days now.
For Ernest to suddenly start acting mature in front of Marie after all that—Robert just couldn't stand his insufferable act.
"..."
Ernest whipped around and glared at Robert's back.
But Robert was completely absorbed in his studies and didn't so much as glance up.
"What do you mean, 'problems you can't avoid?'"
Marie asked Ernest in a small voice.
Ernest still thought of this little girl as a prodigy who, after entering the Military Academy, had been put into Mock Battle Training after just a year. In other words, he saw Marie as an eleven-year-old girl, three years younger than him.
That was why Ernest had to seriously ponder how he could explain this to her.
"For now, I suppose you could ignore it and avoid it. But sooner or later, it's a problem you'll have to face."
After saying that, Ernest realized his words might be too difficult for an eleven-year-old girl.
"When it comes to family issues, you can avoid them for now because you're apart. But someday..."
Ernest had only intended to talk a little about his own situation. That was why he brought up family. But as Marie's expression shifted, he had no choice but to slowly close his mouth.
Marie was wearing an expression so aggressive and venomous, it looked as if she could tear someone apart right then and there. The anger, hatred, and loathing on her face were unlike anything Ernest had ever confronted before.
In that moment, countless memories flashed through Ernest's mind. He realized Marie didn't just dislike her family—she hated them so much she wanted to kill them.
"..."
Ernest slowly reached out and took Marie's tiny hand, which was jutting out from beneath her oversized cadet uniform sleeve, tightly gripping her hem.
Marie's hand, already so pale, had turned almost blue from how hard she was squeezing it.
"Someday, you'll have to face it."
"..."
Ernest held Marie's hand as he spoke in a calm, matter-of-fact voice.
There was no kindness in it.
No softness, no tenderness, no sympathy.
His emotionless tone was just as indifferent as the rough hand that now gripped Marie's.
"If you can't, you'll become complete strangers."
Ernest, who could never be a true stranger to the father he respected and loved, spoke those words.
At that, Marie's fierce expression vanished in a flash. Eyes wide in surprise, she stared at Ernest.
Ernest let go of Marie's hand.
But Marie quickly curled her fingers, grabbing hold of Ernest's hand.
Their fingertips just barely caught.
Ernest paused.
Through the faint connection of their fingertips, Ernest could feel Marie's fear, hesitation, and confusion.
"I'm leaving on leave tomorrow and will be back the evening after."
Ernest spoke steadily.
"Is there anything you need?"
The reason he didn't say more about family wasn't out of consideration, but out of indifference.
He had no desire to get closer than necessary.
"...There isn't."
Just like Ernest, Marie gave nothing more; she didn't share anything with him.
"All right, Marie. Hang in there."
"Yeah, you too, Ernest."
That was it. They spoke as usual, Marie left, and Ernest closed the door.
"..."
However, after Ernest shut the door, Marie stood still for a moment, quietly staring at the closed door—something she didn't usually do.
"A complete strang..."
She muttered softly, then started walking again. Although her face was as expressionless as ever, her muddied blue eyes betrayed a swirl of confusion.
***
At last, the morning of leave arrived. Even though he'd made a huge fuss for days over his worries, the night before, Ernest fell asleep quickly and slept soundly.
Through his conversation with Marie, Ernest realized this was a problem he couldn't avoid—a challenge he simply had to face head-on. Ernest had done everything he could. He'd been honest with his father, reduced his medication and still shown excellent results, and worried as much as anyone could.
There was nothing more he could do, so agonizing any further was pointless.
All that remained was to meet his father in person and talk with him.
"It's rare for a First Year to be the first one out on leave, isn't it?"
"Mmmmmm..."
Ernest, who had packed his things and come to collect them before morning drill assembly, was met with inscrutable looks from the Disciplinary Officers.
Usually, when someone goes out on their first leave, people congratulate them and wish them a good time. He was the first among all the cadets at the Military Academy to reach five merit points, so he certainly deserved praise.
However, since the first cadet to go out on leave was Ernest Krieger—the very one who wrecked the Cadet Corps and earned three merit points for it—the Disciplinary Officers simply couldn't bring themselves to congratulate him.
"Your attire is in order..."
"Make sure you don't do anything in your cadet uniform outside that would tarnish the honor of the Imperial Military Academy, Krieger."
"Yes, understood."
In the end, the Disciplinary Officers let Ernest go with awkward indifference, offering no words of praise.
"Unpack your belongings."
"Yes."
Ernest obediently unpacked everything as he was told.
Since he had nothing unusual in his luggage, nothing more was said.
"Take this."
A Disciplinary Officer handed him a fairly large paper envelope. Ernest received it and stared at it in silence for a moment. It was the envelope containing the sixty-seven inappropriate letters Ernest had been given by other cadets.
After free time ended yesterday, the Training Instructor came and collected all the letters.
"In case something happens, at the very least, we should know where these are being sent, shouldn't we?"
That was the excuse they gave.
Of course, Ernest had a pretty good idea what that "something" could be.
In fact, when a classmate had asked him to deliver a letter, his reason for refusing was precisely because he didn't want to get caught up in just such a situation.
Given those reasons, it made sense to check who the recipients were and where the letters were going.
But really? Was that truly all there was to it?
"All right. Then go and enjoy your leave."
As Ernest shoved the large paper envelope into his bag and closed the flap, the night duty Disciplinary Officer spoke in a slightly weary voice. In the brief moment it took Ernest to naturally look up at him, he swept his broad gaze across the entire Disciplinary Office.
Tap.
"Yes, thank you."
"Very well."
When Ernest saluted crisply, the Disciplinary Officer also returned the salute with a small smile.
With all that finally done, Ernest was at last able to leave the Disciplinary Office.
He hadn't found anything unusual about either the Disciplinary Officer or the office itself.
As he left the dormitory, Ernest opened his bag, took out the envelope, and felt around to check the letters inside. There was no sign any of the letters had been opened.
'…What if it were a Baltracher?'
Ernest recalled Major Liselotte Kirchiter, a First-Class Baltracher from the Empire's Intelligence Agency whom he'd met a few days earlier. It was said that among First-Class Baltrachers, some even had x-ray vision.
Could it be that the Imperial Military Academy was secretly monitoring and censoring every single letter that passed through its walls?
"Haa…"
Ernest let out a sigh, trying to shake off the tangled thoughts swirling in his mind. There was nothing more he could do by dwelling on it.
Only then did it finally sink in: he was on leave and on his way to see his father.
As Ernest left the dormitory and walked toward the main gate of the Military Academy, he was swept up by a strange, indescribable feeling. The marble, bathed in the summer morning sunlight, and the fresh green leaves sparkled brilliantly.
'It feels like I'm doing something I shouldn't be doing.'
While the other cadets were gathering for morning drills, Ernest was walking out of the Academy alone. The feeling was truly odd. Maybe that was why the sunlight seemed brighter, the breeze felt cooler, and his steps seemed lighter than ever.
Ernest searched through the expressions he knew for something that described this best—and soon found it.
'A sense of liberation.'
Ernest had adjusted well to life at the Academy, but he still felt suffocated by its strict rules and schedule.
Other cadets probably felt the same, but perhaps none as much as he did.
Yet now, Ernest had slipped slightly outside the confines of those rules and routines.
Even if it was only until tomorrow evening, even if it was just for this short while.
He didn't break into a run, but he was so eager that he practically sped his way to the main gate.
And then, beyond the iron bars of the Academy's front gate, he spotted someone waiting—a little unfamiliar at first glance, dressed impeccably despite the heat, wearing a fine jacket and hat—but a figure he could never in his life fail to recognize.
At that moment, Ernest came to an abrupt stop.
Worries about having adjusted his dosage of medicine on his own, his father's unusually brief letter, and the possibility of being scolded—all those thoughts vanished in an instant.
"…Father!"
Seeing Haires dressed far more smartly than usual, Ernest realized his father had been looking forward to this moment just as much as he had. With all his might, he called out to his father and ran toward him.
Though it was a summer morning, Haires seemed to stand there alone like a shadow, dark and still.
He lifted his head and looked at Ernest.
A hint of surprise flickered across Haires's gaunt, very dry face.
Then, that surprise faded into a faint but unmistakable smile—subtle, yet unmistakably directed at Ernest.
"Ernest."
The moment he heard his father's voice, Ernest let go of all the worries he'd been carrying.
Haires sounded just as he always did—the same voice Ernest had always known.
Nothing had changed.
"Hang on, hang on. You need to be checked before you leave."
"Oh."
Just as Ernest was about to rush out, he found himself stopped by the guards at the Imperial Military Academy's main gate.
Embarrassed, Ernest handed over his leave permit with a sheepish smile.
After a quick verification, the main gate was opened.
"Enjoy your outing, and be sure to return by tomorrow evening."
"Yes, sir!"
"Mm!"
When the platoon leader of the guard grinned and spoke, Ernest replied energetically and saluted.
The leader, smiling, returned his salute, then gave a respectful nod and a friendly smile to Haires, who was waiting outside the gate.
Haires, too, with a faint smile on his weathered, tree-like face, inclined his head in greeting to the platoon leader of the guard.
"Father!"
Ernest dashed over to Haires.
However, he didn't throw himself into his father's arms or embrace him tightly.
"Ernest, you've worked hard. You…"
As Ernest stood in front of him, Haires spoke gently in a low, even voice.
Speaking a bit awkwardly at first, he slowly lifted his hand and rested it on his son's shoulder.
"…I'm proud of you."
Haires gave a somewhat embarrassed smile.
And before Ernest, eyes bright with excitement, could say anything in response, Haires, still holding his son's shoulder, began walking briskly, guiding him along.
"Let's get going. We don't have a lot of time."
"Yes!"
Ernest answered energetically with a beaming smile. He felt truly happy and proud that his father, whom he respected and loved, was embarrassed yet still said he was proud.
"But for someone who has to go back tomorrow, you're carrying quite a lot of luggage."
"Oh, this is…"
Noticing his father's sharp observation, Ernest awkwardly smiled as he lifted the unnecessarily large, bulging bag.
"They're letters I have to send on behalf of others…"
Flustered, Ernest started to babble as he tried to explain the situation. Caught up in worrying that he'd broken a promise to his father and might get scolded, Ernest had completely forgotten to mention the letters.
"…Is it really okay?"
Ernest carefully asked Haires.
Sending this many letters was going to cost a fortune. Even Robert, who was exceptionally quick with money matters, had estimated it would be at least 1,000 Deck.
"Yes, of course."
But Haires responded without the slightest concern, looking almost amused by Ernest's worries.
"Let's go to the Imperial Postal Service."
With his hand still resting on his son's shoulder, Haires spoke.
In Grimm, the capital of the Empire, there were many postal companies.
Private firms were common, and even trading companies would send mail for a fee.
The Imperial Postal Service, true to its name, was the official agency operated by the Mihahil Empire.
Because it carried the Empire's name, there was never any concern about safety.
In the provinces, bandits weren't unusual, so anything important was best entrusted to the Imperial Postal Service.
Of course, the cost reflected that peace of mind—nearly double what private companies charged.
"Isn't that too expensive?"
Ernest asked Haires hesitantly. Using the Imperial Postal Service would mean a fee well over 2,000 Deck.
"There's no need to worry about something so trivial."
Haires spoke to his worried son in a calm voice.
The House Krieger lived in a very modest home, but they had never once experienced financial hardship. Still, spending as much as 2,000 Deck just on letters seemed utterly ridiculous.
"How much money do you think I really need to spend? I've just left most of it in the bank, and with the interest piling up, it doesn't even decrease."
Haires continued, a slight smile in his voice, trying to ease his anxious son.
The pension he received upon retiring as a Colonel was by no means small.
Yet Haires lived extremely frugally, hardly touching that money.
Whatever he saved, he deposited in the bank, and with the interest compounding, even Haires himself no longer knew exactly how much he had.
That didn't even include the money he received while on active duty, nor the rewards he was given along with his medals.
2,000 Deck?
Even if they spent 200,000 Deck right now, there would still be plenty left in the House Krieger's bank account.
Haires hailed a carriage and headed straight for the Imperial Postal Service. Even though it was bustling with people from early in the morning, Haires, who was clearly a noble, and Ernest, wearing his Imperial Military Academy cadet uniform, didn't need to stand in line.
"Welcome. May I carry your baggage for you?"
"No, that's all right. We're here to send mail. There's rather a lot."
"Of course, please come this way. May I ask your name, sir?"
"Krieger. Haires Krieger."
A servant from the Imperial Postal Service led them to a private room reserved for nobles. It was a fine room with plush sofas, and they were served tea.
"Lord Haires, it is an honor to meet you."
After a short wait, a neatly dressed postal service employee entered the room and greeted Haires with formal courtesy. However, both Haires and Ernest clearly noticed the man's politely smiling eyes quickly scanning Ernest's deep blue cadet uniform and his bulging bag.
A boy in a cadet uniform had come in with an overstuffed bag, saying he had a lot of letters to send. There was no way the postal worker could be unaware that Ernest was the first cadet permitted to leave the Imperial Military Academy this year.
Ernest's dark eyes darted back and forth. Then, the corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly before he quietly assumed the demeanor of an obedient, well-mannered son, patiently waiting for Haires to speak.
The father of the first cadet to go on leave from the Imperial Military Academy this year—Ernest was savoring the fact that, in this moment, he had become Haires's pride.
"The Imperial Postal Service… is far more dangerous than it looks."
At the same time, Ernest realized how formidable the Imperial Postal Service was, noting that the staff member addressed Haires as "Lord Haires" rather than "Lord Krieger."
This employee clearly knew that Haires had retired with the rank of Colonel.
Some nobles like to be addressed as "Lord" with their names.
Others, knowing this, intentionally call those not permitted the title "Lord" by that honorific.
However, at Grimm's Imperial Postal Service, they wouldn't just call anyone that.
With the paradigm of war shifting, knights brandishing swords and lances on horseback had become honorary titles in name only. Yet, just because it was now mostly a formality didn't make the title itself worthless.
Now that noble titles could legally be bought and sold, it was the honorary knighthood that had become the most valuable—because, as the word implies, you couldn't receive it unless you'd actually earned honor.
Knighthoods were awarded only to those who had served the Empire in some truly outstanding way.
That's why, even among Field Officers or even General Officers, there were some soldiers who hadn't received this title, and even subtle discrimination persisted depending on whether one held it.
The fact that the Imperial Postal Service employee called him "Lord Haires" told Ernest a wealth of information all at once—he could analyze it, categorize it, organize and understand it immediately.
"..."
Meanwhile, Haires was studying Ernest carefully.
And then, very slowly and just barely, he gave a nod.
Ernest responded with a slight smile.
"Thank you for your hospitality."
Haires spoke to the Postal Service employee in an even, composed tone.
But he didn't rise from the sofa, nor did he attempt to shake hands or offer any other gesture.
The Postal Service employee, as though this were expected, simply placed a hand over his chest and bowed his head respectfully.
"I'd like to send some letters. Quite a few, actually. Will that be all right?"
"Of course. After all, in the Mihahil Empire, there is simply no postal service faster, safer, or more reliable than the Imperial Postal Service."
At Haires's words, the Postal Service employee smiled and boasted confidently.
Then, with a bright smile, he added,
"Since your son is so exceptional, you must have no worries, Lord Haires. The future of House Krieger is truly dazzlingly bright. I wish my own son could achieve even a quarter of what your son has."
The employee was praising Ernest, the first cadet from the Imperial Military Academy to go on leave this year. It was light flattery, but it made Ernest genuinely happy, and Haires didn't seem displeased either.
"Ernest."
"Yes, Father."
At Haires's call, Ernest opened his bag, ready to hand over the bundle of letters to the employee.
But before he could, the employee respectfully reached out his hand, so Ernest simply passed the entire bag to him.
"It won't take long, but if you're pressed for time…"
The employee addressed Haires politely. In response, Haires took out a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it over.
"Thank you."
The employee received the paper respectfully, went over to a desk in the corner, removed all the envelopes full of letters from Ernest's bag, set them down with the paper, then closed the bag and returned it to Ernest.
Ernest clearly saw what Haires had handed the employee—a blank check.
After the Imperial Postal Service finished sorting and sending the letters, they would fill in the appropriate amount on the blank check and send it to the bank themselves.
Not a single bit of impropriety would occur during this process. If even the slightest act of impropriety were discovered, it would literally cost someone their head.
"It was an honor to meet you both. Please do continue to use the Imperial Postal Service in the future."
With a send-off from the staff that felt almost overly polite, Ernest and Haires left the Imperial Postal Service.
"…This feels rather strange."
Ernest found this kind of treatment and behavior very unfamiliar.
Even though he knew better than anyone that he was a member of the hereditary noble House Krieger, he had never truly been treated like a noble before.
The neighbors who lived around House Krieger's modest home believed the Kriegers were nothing more than a fallen noble family, with only the name left to them.
"You'll have to get used to it. Once you become a Beowatcher, everything will change."
"…You're right."
Haires spoke calmly to his son, and Ernest agreed. If he became a Beowatcher, a member of the Royal Guard directly serving the Emperor, everything really would change.
But the truth was, Haires himself—the one giving advice to his son—was a man who had never grown used to such things. Despite having gained so much wealth and glory, he'd always lived in that small, humble house, never indulging in any luxuries.
"Is there anything else you need to do?"
It would be best to finish any errands before returning home. At Haires's question, Ernest hesitated for a moment, then spoke in a subdued voice.
"I think I need to buy a new outfit for the year-end party"
Haires looked quietly down at his son, who was glancing at him nervously.
"All right, let's talk about the details when we get home."
From Ernest's reaction, Haires realized there were still secrets his son hadn't told him, but he decided not to press for details—for now, he would let it go.
"..."
Ernest was a little—really, only a little—flustered.
No, in truth, he was completely flustered.
He realized that while he had confessed to breaking his promise, he'd conveniently glossed over the part where he blew up the Cadet Corps.
Ernest cursed his past self.
Ernest Krieger, the fourteen-year-old boy, declared a state of emergency on himself.
There were so many things Ernest needed to tell his father.
Unfortunately, about half of them were things he'd rather not say at all.
Looking back, Ernest realized just how many problems—whether accidents or incidents—he'd caused.