Strategic Retreat and Voluntary Hardship

I opened my eyes to the sensation of being shaken. Once it was clear I was awake, the hand retreated. The room is still dark… Since a consistent wake-up time had become ingrained in my body, I rarely overslept, so there was usually no reason for a maid to come wake me.

I wiggled under the covers and turned to check the window. It wasn’t that I had blackout curtains drawn; the sunlight filtering through the half-open drapes was so weak it was embarrassing to even call it morning. I blinked, dazed and intoxicated by sleep. It wasn’t that I was late getting up—it was clearly an hour at which I shouldn’t be awake yet.

“Young Master, a guest has arrived to see you,” the maid who woke me explained apologetically.

Upon hearing the word ‘guest,’ I managed to push myself up, though my head kept nodding forward. A visitor at this hour?

“He insists he must see you right now. Should I send him away after all?”

That was when my mind finally cleared. Visiting a residence this early in the morning is a significant breach of etiquette. People rarely drop by unannounced, and even if they do, they are seldom granted an audience. This was even truer for a manor owned by the Vice-Commander of the Imperial Knights.

If the staff couldn’t bring themselves to turn him away and had let him in, it meant he was of no ordinary status. Among those who would seek out Llewellyn—the second son, not the heir—the number of candidates could be counted on one hand. And of those few, if I excluded those tied up in the capital or those who would have sent word in advance out of courtesy, only one person came to mind.

I slapped both my cheeks to chase away the lingering sleep.

“Where is my brother?”

“He left early for work.”

It seemed he’d already headed out. If you’re a civil servant, the charm is supposed to be the clockwork commute. My heart felt heavy as I imagined the future where I, too, would serve as a knight like him.

Still, in this situation, his absence was a blessing. The news brought by the guest waiting in the drawing room would be anything but welcome to him.

The guest in the drawing room was, as expected, Edward Spellman. His mustache twitched when he spotted me coming down, having quickly changed clothes to avoid keeping him waiting.

Looking at his face, I knew the answer to my letter. My worries that he might refuse because the reply was late turned out to be baseless. I just hadn’t expected him to come in person.

“Are you serious?”

Instead of trivial small talk about my well-being, Spellman cut straight to the chase. Looking at him, the difference between a civil official and a military man was stark. The old knight’s face looked as solemn as ever, but his voice was uncharacteristically charged with joy and excitement. I briefly wondered what would happen if I gave an answer that betrayed his expectations.

Suppressing my useless curiosity, I replied, “Yes.”

“Think again. Are you truly serious?”

“Yes,” I answered without a moment’s hesitation to his follow-up.

‘Decent’ skill—skill that wasn’t ‘lacking’—wouldn’t be enough. I needed to reach a level where I could at least protect myself, and I’d only be satisfied if I could step forward to protect others. To achieve that, I needed a great teacher and rigorous training.

The only thing I was grateful to the Crown Prince for was that I didn’t have to search far for such a master. If it weren’t for Spellman, I might have eventually had to head North to seek out Joshua Bretti as a teacher, just as the Count once did.

“Once you go, there is no turning back, even if you regret it,” Spellman said in a firm tone, as if this were my last warning.

“I chose this so that I won’t have regrets,” I replied with determination, matching his intensity.

In truth, I probably will regret it. When I’m rolling around in the dirt until my mouth tastes like blood, it’s only natural to miss warm food and a comfortable bed. When my legs are shaking and my lungs feel like they’re bursting, I’ll likely feel a sense of self-loathing, wondering why I’m putting myself through this voluntary suffering. It won’t take long; within a month, I might be crying myself to sleep. Maybe even less than a month.

But I can’t just sit idly by. If I were going to just sit quietly and accept snacks from my family, I wouldn’t have even thought about trying to twist the genre of this story. At least the original Llewellyn Edwill didn’t know the future. If I have all the information and still do nothing, wouldn’t that make me even stupider?

If I became lazy for the sake of comfort, this moment would haunt me as a lifelong regret. My task was clear.

It was a relief that Academy life wasn’t described in detail in the original work. Aside from a few mentions of exchanging letters with Cedric Klein, there wasn’t much. I couldn’t entirely trust Erkel’s memory, but since the original author supposedly didn’t care for the “Academy” trope, I had to believe it.

If any major incidents were supposed to happen there, I would have been forced to follow the plot just to minimize the fallout.

“I will return this afternoon. Pack your bags lightly.”

“We’re leaving right away?”

I had prepared myself to follow him immediately without even stopping by the capital, but I hadn’t expected to depart on the very same day. When I asked in surprise, he downed his already cold tea like it was water.

“Your brothers aren’t a problem, but if the Count insists on coming himself, things will get complicated.”

I understood immediately. The reason I considered leaving without properly saying goodbye to my family was precisely because their opposition would be so fierce. It could take days, maybe longer. If I tried to sneak out then, their guard would be up, making it much harder. They would eventually give in to my wishes, but there was no need to waste time.

If I dragged my feet for a few days and the Count decided to use a magic stone to travel through a gate like Leo did last time, things would spiral. I wondered if a retired civil official who wasn’t even a knight would really use a military gate, but thinking about it, it was entirely possible.

Moreover, the Crown Prince—who was already infatuated with Llewellyn—would hardly be pleased with me leaving for several years, so he might jump at the chance to grant permission.

However, the toughest opponent remained in Robenus. Even so, since we were living together, it felt a bit… much to just ignore him and leave. But if I went to the barracks and said, ‘Brother, I’m leaving with Sir Spellman to get stronger!’ the outcome was obvious. Leo, with Cale’s power and Abel’s decisiveness, would use his knights to ‘protect’ me so I couldn’t leave.

As I agonized over the dilemma, Spellman took a breath and made the decision for me.

“I will go to Leopold myself.”

“Yes, sir.”

There was no reason to refuse the offer. I answered brightly without even a second thought.

Dust rose as I kicked the unpaved earth. If I had been wearing my usual shabby clothes with my hair dyed brown, someone would have surely shouted at me to stop. But a young master in expensive clothes with well-groomed blonde hair was an untouchable entity in the back alleys.

I stared at the tips of my shoes while crumpling the paper bag of bread I’d bought to trade for a change of clothes. Whenever I walked these alleys, I used to wear worn-out, floppy shoes that didn’t fit right. The ones I was wearing now were stiff. Though they had lost their luster to the dust, they would shine again once wiped clean.

The last time I saw Luke was that evening he gave me that threat-like warning. I had accepted his warning and stopped lurking in the alleys, and he hadn’t come looking for me. I hadn’t really expected him to, anyway.

If Luke had acted that threateningly, there must have been a reason. For a moment, his smiling face—filled with mischief—flickered in my mind. It was a smile that made even the trust I had evaporate. I forced myself to rebuild my faith in Luke. I wanted to believe he wasn’t someone who acted that recklessly for no reason.

Whether he really lost interest in me or something else came up, as he said, chances don’t come often. Even if nothing was wrong, if he was being that prickly, I wouldn’t have had a good time if I ignored his warning and intruded anyway.

The best solution in this situation would be to wait for time to pass, but the problem was that I didn’t have any time. I had already packed my bags to leave; I couldn’t delay it just to hang onto a situation that might lead nowhere.

Still, I thought he might show up if I came here this openly.

I had hoped that if I stopped the flimsy act of being a street urchin, he would appear, but apparently, that wasn’t the case either. There wasn’t even a shadow of Luke to be found. As my last hope withered, my heart grew heavy. Should I just give up? Is this really my best effort? No clear answer came to the questions.

Reaching into my pocket, I felt the locket, lukewarm from my body heat. The surface looked smooth, but a closer look revealed intricate engravings. I had specifically chosen an expensive one so it wouldn’t be mistaken for cheap street trash.

I was trying to comfort myself and turn back when something bumped into me. Thinking the silhouette looked familiar, I stuck out my foot.

“Ack!”

I caught the person’s clothes before they could fall. A choking sound—khek!—escaped them. Where had I seen this grimy face before? As I scanned the face, I saw the teary black eyes and realized he was the pickpocket who had swiped my wallet on the day I first met Luke.