CH 34

Marquis Dietrich looked down at the training ground from his vantage point on the hill. He was sitting cross-legged in his chair. The supervisor, standing next to him, said, pouting.

“Thanks to the Marquis, the facilities at the training center are getting better and better, the education is more structured, and the percentage of excellent trainees is higher than in previous years.”

“Facilities don’t have to be good. It is a characteristic of the lazy race to try to lie down as long as there is a place to stretch their legs.”

Marquis Dietrich said cynically and took out his pipe. The supervisor, who was rubbing his hands beside him, immediately took out a lighter.

“I’ll do it for you.”

The supervisor carefully took the pipe from the Marquis and lit it. The puffed tobacco leaves burned. The supervisor placed the lit pipe in the Marquis’s mouth himself.

Most nobles still clung to their pipes, although the relatively easy-to-use cigars were gaining popularity these days. Cigarettes were made for frivolity.

The Marquis held the smoke for a moment, then opened his mouth.

“Only let a minimum number of them live. There will only be more mouths to feed if there is too much useless trash to survive.”

“Of course. But the children are too uneducated and barbaric—if we allow them to kill, there could be chaos, so we are cutting branches at this stage to the maximum extent possible.”

“And what about the kids who stand out in the graduating class?”

“There are quite a few. One of them is — well, I don’t know if you remember him, but he is Benjamin Holland, a trainee who visited the Marquis’ residence the other day.”

“Yeah, you remember him.”

“Yes, he’s a talented man.”

“Hmm.”

The Marquis nodded insincerely and took a deep puff from his pipe.

Pop. The last signal round was fired, signaling the end of the training.

“Now the trainees are coming back. How many survived this time, haha.”

Shortly after the signal round was fired, heads could be seen coming up from the bottom of the hill. Upon arrival, the trainees submitted their flags and name tags to the instructor for scoring.

Exhausted trainees sat down here and there. The injured were quickly treated or, in the severe cases, transferred.

Suddenly, a murmur could be heard from across the starting line. Marquis Dietrich turned his gaze in that direction. A dark-haired trainee was staggering up from below. Even from a distance, his injuries looked quite serious.

One shoulder was limp as if dislocated, and his injured thigh was still bound with a piece of cloth. He also had a tight grip on his side. It looked as if a bullet or knife had grazed him there.

Injuries of that magnitude were common here. Just as the Marquis was about to look away without interest, the supervisor said.

“It’s Heiner. I hear he’s an extraordinary trainee.”

“A senior?”

“No, he’s probably a junior.”

The Marquis looked at the trainee again with a surprised look on his face. Heiner was larger than the average graduate.

The instructor’s eyes grew wide as Heiner handed him the flags and name tags. The instructor asked Heiner a few questions incredulously and showed the name tags to the instructor next to him. The Marquis, who was watching this, tilted his head.

“What’s going on?”

“……. I’ll go check it out.”

The supervisor walked over to the instructors and asked what had happened. After hearing the situation, the supervisor’s face had a bewildered expression as he walked back to the Marquis.

“Well, Benjamin Holland, who I told you about earlier—is dead.”

“Wasn’t he a senior? Did he participate in this?”

“If they are disloyal or show signs of insubordination, they may be rostered to the survival training at the instructor’s discretion.”

“What a waste. Why would you let a good trainee, whom you spent money to train to graduate, die at the last minute?”

“It’s just a warning level, and we provide them with good weapons. Also, survival training victories don’t mean much to a graduating class, so they usually band together. It shouldn’t be so easy to defeat them………..”

The supervisor hesitated for a moment, then continued his words as if he himself was puzzled.

“The four seniors who participated this time were all beaten by one person.”

“What? One man?”

“Yeah, that guy. Badly wounded….”

The Marquis’ gaze turned again to Heiner. Heiner was receiving first aid. As he removed his training uniform, blood gushed from his side, where the bullet had grazed him.

“His name is Heiner Valdemar, a third-year student.”

***

After survival training, Heiner was confined to bed for some time.

His left shoulder was dislocated, he had a puncture wound in his thigh, and a bullet scraped across his side.

He also had other injuries, large and small, all over his body. His face, which had been struck in the struggle, was so swollen that it was difficult to recognize his original features.

Even the doctor, who was trained in most of the injuries, was tongue-tied, wondering how he moved with this body.

“It’s admirable that you got this many injuries against those men and are still walking.”

Hugo clicked his tongue and handed him a cup. Heiner popped the pills into his mouth and swallowed them with the water.

“How in the world did you kill them? Four at once.”

“Just…”

“How do you just kill four seniors? Say something that makes sense.”

Heiner laid back on the bed without answering. Hugo asked, leaning back in his chair.

“Did you at least avenge Ethan?”

“Not really.”

“Well, it’s the end anyway. No one can beat you up recklessly anymore.”

Heiner kept his eyes closed and did not answer. He was neither happy nor sad. He was just tired.

Suddenly, without a knock, the door to the room slammed open. Heiner and Hugo looked  at the door at the same time. Their instructor was standing in front of the room.

Hugo bounced out of his seat and raised his hand in a salute. The chair he was sitting in fell over. Heiner also tried to get up from the bed, but the instructor waved him off.

“How’s your body?”

“I’m fine.”

Unable to lie still, Heiner finally raised his upper body. As he tried to stand up, the instructor once again stopped him.

“Just stay where you are. There is an infirmary at the entrance to the first floor of Building A. As soon as the day dawns, you will receive treatment there.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And the Marquis has invited you to the next supper. This Saturday evening at the Rosenberg residence.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“Okay. I hope you receive proper treatment and recover quickly.”

The instructor left the room after briefly conveying his business. Silence reigned for a moment. Hugo, who had been quietly astonished, looked back at Heiner, jumping up.

“Hey!”

Hugo screamed with a face full of excitement.

“Damn, did you hear that? You heard what I heard, right? Receive good treatment and recover quickly? Is that what he said? And building A? That’s the instructors’ building, and they’re letting you use the infirmary there?”

Hugo immediately grabbed Heiner by the shoulders and was ready to swing him around, but fortunately he didn’t, perhaps remembering he was injured.

“And what about the Marquis’ dinner?! That’s what top graduating students go to!

Wow, it’s crazy! It looks like the Marquis likes you. This bastard has a way of life.”

Attending the Marquis’ dinner meant a higher chance of joining him in the future.

Marquis Dietrich, a high-ranking aristocrat and military general, was the chief executive of the special operations corp. And the special operations corp was where every trainee wanted to be.

It was like picking a star in the sky for a training camp graduate to enlist in the military and get a promotion.

They had to achieve some distinction in operations and prove their competence and loyalty. However, the existence of training camps was a necessary evil of the Padania royal family.

The royal family wanted them to handle every dirty work that the formal army could not, while at the same time wanted to keep them hidden.

Thus, most of the training camp graduates died during the operations, unrecognized for the achievements they had made. Or they suffered trauma for the rest of their lives.

An exception was made, however, for those who joined the special operations corp. They were placed under the direct jurisdiction of the Marquis, which was the same as opening the way for formal military enlistment.

“Well, at least you deserve to be in the special corp. Still, it’s really unusual for a third year to be invited to the Marquis’ dinner.”

Heiner, who had been listening quietly to Hugo’s words, murmured with a face devoid of laughter.

“Can we really take this invitation as a positive?”

“What kind of nonsense are you talking about all of a sudden?”

“Benjamin and Grita were invited to the dinner as well. There was a good chance that they would join the Special Operations Corp when they graduated. Now they’re dead…because I killed them.”

“Hey, come on, that’s a statement that overestimates them. To the Marquis, we’re just one of his many chess pieces.”

Hugo shrugged and chuckled.

“Not even a knight, just a pawn.”

“….. I can at least be a knight.”

“You’re a big boy. Bastard.”

“Ethan would have been jealous if he’s here.”

“Yeah, he would have. His lifelong wish was to join the Marquis. He sang so much about wanting to set foot in the Rosenberg mansion just once………….”

Hugo’s face turned bitter. He let out one long breath and waved his hand.

“No point in telling you from now on. Get ready to welcome a new roommate.”

Roommate changes were common. They knew how not to grieve. They knew how to get used to the loss.

Heiner’s eyes lingered for a moment on the empty bunk. The surface of the white sheet shimmered in the dim candlelight. He soon averted his gaze.