"You volunteered to be my escort? Why?"
Sir Heinrich raised his head and looked straight at me.
"I wanted to watch the Young Master grow."
"What?"
I doubted my ears.
Sir Heinrich repeated himself once more, slowly and clearly.
"I want to see with my own eyes what kind of person the Young Master will become."
Ah.
Aah.
That old man.
He seems to be under some tremendous misunderstanding.
Lise muttered quietly beside me.
"Wow... Sir Heinrich acknowledges the Young Master that much..."
No, Lise.
That's not acknowledgment.
It's a misunderstanding.
A serious misunderstanding.
A middle-aged knight. Someone who followed my orders at Granfeld. And one of the closest confidants trusted by my father, Duke Walther Von Krstein.
Such a person following me, an illegitimate child?
This is... a major disaster.
The reason the members of the Assembly of Illegitimate Children are still alive is because their 'pranks' are merely annoying to my older brother rather than a serious threat.
If he felt a serious threat...
They'd die.
If they're lucky, they'd die.
If they're unlucky?
They'd end up in a state worse than death, living miserably in some corner of the estate.
And that fate would serve as a warning to others about what happens to illegitimate children who challenge my older brother.
That old man...
His eyes were sparkling.
That person... was sincerely acknowledging me.
I'm screwed.
Completely screwed.
**
I, Heinrich, didn't trust strategists.
Nearly 40 years of life, 25 of them spent on battlefields.
I'd experienced dozens of battles, and in the process, I'd seen countless 'strategists.'
Self-proclaimed tacticians.
Self-proclaimed staff officers.
Self-proclaimed wise advisors.
Most of them existed to create positions for incompetent nobles.
Or they were people whose heads could be cut off instead when operations failed.
"Sir, I think the enemy will come from the east."
"What's your basis?"
"Um... a feeling?"
Those kinds of bastards.
People who waged war based on feelings.
And when those 'feelings' were wrong?
"This was an unexpected situation! Who could have known!"
Excuses.
That's why I despised strategists.
The Duke was the same.
Walther Von Krstein was someone who solved everything with his own power.
Strategy?
Just clash head-on and win.
Strategists?
Unnecessary. The Duke's strength alone was enough.
I believed in that method too.
Speaking with the sword.
Proving with strength.
That was the knight's way.
But that day at Granfeld, I saw a true war commander for the first time.
"We'll lure the orcs into the gorge."
A ten-year-old boy spoke calmly with conviction.
"That's impossible, Young Master."
I objected.
Of course I did.
500 orcs.
Our forces: 65 men.
Even with a gorge, how could we lure them, block them, and win?
"It's possible. Check the gorge yourself. Sir, you should come along too."
And I saw it.
"Look at the gorge's structure. Cliffs on both sides and narrow width. If we stack oil-soaked hay here and set it on fire the moment the orcs go deep inside... they'll have nowhere to escape. The lure is simple. I read in a book that orcs lose their reason at the smell of pig blood. A few knights with good mobility should be enough."
Only then did I realize.
That we could win.
No.
That we would win.
And we actually won.
Over 500 orcs annihilated.
Allied casualties: 0.
A perfect victory.
Can you believe it?
That a ten-year-old boy devised the best strategy?
That a ten-year-old boy pushed through that strategy and annihilated an enemy several times our size?
And I thought.
This is the one.
The person to succeed the Duke.
No, the person who must succeed him.
Not a 'mediocrity' like Young Master Ernst, but this person.
**
He seemed to have some grand misunderstanding.
But there was nothing I could do about it right now.
In any case, it was true that I had annihilated hundreds of orcs without casualties through my command.
For now...
Let me ask about this matter.
"Sir, do you know about the two counts?"
"You mean Count Gregen and Count Waldemar?"
"Yes."
"Count Gregen is a warrior, hot-tempered. His swordsmanship is around intermediate Expert level."
Oh.
Surprisingly detailed?
"Count Waldemar is cunning and political. His swordsmanship is ordinary, but he's skilled in schemes."
"The disputed area?"
"It's an undeveloped mine at the border of their two territories. There are rumors that silver deposits have been confirmed."
Silver.
A mineral far more valuable than iron or copper.
So they're fighting over that.
"Both families came under our Krstein family about 20 years ago."
Twenty years.
Before I was even born.
Heinrich's explanation continued.
The terrain of the border area, the military strength of both count families, recent conflict cases.
It flowed out as if he were reciting a report.
I was puzzled.
"Sir."
"Yes, Young Master."
"How does someone like you, who doesn't particularly like books, know all this in such detail?"
He was renowned as an anti-orc specialist.
But despite that, at Granfeld, Sir had proudly stated that he "had the orc ecology book but never opened it."
It was strange that such a person knew so much detail about the two count families.
Heinrich fell silent for a moment.
Then slowly opened his mouth.
"Twenty years ago, when those two bastards knelt before the Duke's army, I was there."
"...What?"
"I saw it with my own eyes. Gregen surrendering covered in blood. Waldemar pledging loyalty with a trembling voice."
I was at a loss for words.
Knelt?
Surrendered?
In the books...
No, wait.
I closed my mouth.
The book in the family library.
<History of the Krstein Family>
It was written like this:
"The two counts, moved by the Duke's character and martial prowess, voluntarily entered his service."
Voluntarily.
Moved.
Bullshit.
I was an idiot for believing those words in the first place.
History is written by the victors.
It was true in my past life, and it's the same in this world.
"That day... Gregen's eldest son died. Hit by the Duke's sword during battle. Waldemar's eldest daughter was the same."
Fuck.
My mind went blank.
"They hate us. But they can't express that hatred. Not while the Duke lives. So they point their swords at each other. Since they can't raise their swords against the Krstein family, they take out their anger on someone in the same position."
"..."
"And we're going to mediate that."
I understood why the Assembly of Illegitimate Children had dumped this mission for 100 gold.
Those bastards.
Surely they didn't know about this?
No, they probably didn't.
They wouldn't have known the detailed background.
They probably just thought of it as a 'political minefield.'
But in reality, it was more than that.
"Sir Knight."
Lise's voice was heard.
"Hmm?"
"What's the family composition of the two counts?"
Lise asked Heinrich.
There was no hiccup sound.
No trembling either.
Completely different from how she usually acted in front of strangers.
I was puzzled.
"Lise."
"Yes, Young Master?"
"That's strange. You don't stutter in front of Sir."
Lise tilted her head.
"Of course not. We're comrades who fought together."
"...Comrades?"
"Yes!"
Lise smiled brightly.
Heinrich also burst into hearty laughter.
"Hahaha! That's right! This little miss and I are comrades who fought a great battle together!"
He patted Lise's head.
Lise accepted the gesture without a single hiccup.
**
On the evening of the third day.
We arrived at the mining village, our destination.
Actually, rather than a village... it was closer to a military outpost.
Wooden palisades surrounded it, and watchtowers were erected.
And on both sides of those palisades, camps had been formed.
On the left, Count Gregen's banner.
On the right, Count Waldemar's banner.
The two banners fluttered as if glaring at each other.
"Young Master, it seems they've come out to greet us."
Sir Heinrich pointed outside the window.
People emerged from both camps.
I opened the door and stepped outside.
Lise and Heinrich followed.
And the moment I saw them, my breath caught.
Two counts.
Count Gregen and Count Waldemar had come out in person.
Normally in such cases, sending a representative was standard. There was no reason for counts to come out personally.
But they were here.
Glaring at each other, no less.
Count Gregen.
Mid-fifties. Large build with a bushy beard. His entire face was flushed red.
Wearing armor with a sword at his waist.
Count Waldemar.
Late fifties. Neat appearance but deep wrinkles around his eyes. Cold gaze.
Also wearing armor with a sword at his waist.
The distance between them was barely 10 meters.
But the air between them... was frozen.
"Are the two counts well?"
I spoke as calmly as possible.
"Of course, Young Master."
"I'm healthy, Young Master."
Young Master? Something... was strange.
Two counts being this respectful to a ten-year-old illegitimate child?
"That's fortunate. Now, about the mine ownership issue..."
Count Gregen suddenly stepped forward.
His hand pointed at Waldemar.
"Young Master! Look at that traitor!"
"...What?"
"That man is a rebel who betrayed the Duke!"
"Nonsense! You're the traitor!"
Count Waldemar's face contorted as he also stepped forward.
"Young Master, the mine doesn't matter! There's a more serious problem! There was an inspector dispatched by the Duke!"
Count Gregen shouted.
"Inspector?"
"That's right! An official directly dispatched by the Duke to monitor and report on the disputes in this region! And that man killed him!"
"What!"
Waldemar shouted angrily.
"You're the one who killed him! I have evidence!"
"You fabricated the evidence!"
In an instant, my mind went blank.
Inspector.
An inspector dispatched from the duchy.
That was... my father's direct authority.
My father, Walther Von Krstein's eyes and ears.
And that person was dead?
"Young Master!"
Count Waldemar looked straight at me.
"This is direct treason against the Duke!"
"You're the traitor!"
"The inspector was found poisoned in Waldemar's camp! There are witnesses!"
"Lies! The inspector's body was found near Gregen's camp! Stabbed with a sword!"
The two counts' voices grew louder.
"That man is a rebel who mocked the Duke! He deserves execution!"
"You're the one who should be executed!"
Knights from both sides rushed in.
Gregen's knights surrounded Waldemar.
Waldemar's knights also surrounded Gregen.
In an instant, a hair-trigger situation.
"That man must be executed!"
"No, that man is the rebel!"
Both counts shouted simultaneously.
Trial.
Judgment.
Execution.
Treason.
And I, a ten-year-old brat, was supposed to judge one of two counts as a traitor and order his execution?