Arc-5 Ch-02

I couldn’t see His Highness Julius’s face as he knelt in silent prayer before the war memorial. There was something about the scene that made me hesitate to stand beside him or call out to him. I didn’t know how long His Highness had been there like that. In the early winter morning, his motionless figure from behind looked like a beautiful statue.

Seeing such a sight, I couldn’t help but think something irreverent: “If we made a statue of this pose, would it draw a crowd?”

After his silent prayer, His Highness stood up and turned around. Our eyes met. Damn, I should’ve slipped away before he noticed me. An awkward tension began to fill the air, as if I’d seen something I shouldn’t have.

“You’re here,” he said.

“Good morning, Your Highness. What brings you out so early?”

“I heard there was a war memorial here. I stopped by while taking a walk.”

“Those honored by Your Highness’s prayers are fortunate. Thank you.”

I know it’s just flowery flattery.

I’ve personally witnessed the final moments of many soldiers from the Bartfalt army listed on that memorial. Some died in agony, others cursing their fate, and some slipped away as if falling asleep in a daze. Those whose deaths I could witness were the lucky ones. There were others who never returned after the battle or whose belongings were found, but whose bodies were not. I know not all of them fought for the Holfort Kingdom. But I have enough sense not to say that in front of His Highness.

“A prince wandering alone seems reckless,” I said.

“Imagine a life where someone is always at your side. On a trip, you’d want to be left alone.”

“Is the lodging we prepared not to your liking?”

“It’s not that. I’m just not the type to sit still.”

His shrug made him look like any young man my age. But I was born into the lowest rung of nobility and made a viscount in my teens, while he’s been a prince since birth. I can tell my sense of things differs from most young people. As a noble, I’m neither fully commoner nor fully aristocrat—commoners see me as a pampered rich kid, while nobles see me as an upstart. I barely have friends my age, and noble gatherings are exhausting, full of probing and posturing. If I, a half-baked noble, feel this way, I can only imagine how a prince—living like this since birth—might crave solitude on a trip.

“Well, I’ll be going,” I said.

“Don’t be so cold, Bartfort. Stick around a bit.”

I’d rather not, Your Highness. He’s annoyingly chummy with me, which is a problem. He’s got four close friends nearby—go hang out with them. It’s early morning; most shops aren’t open. The civilian airport has food stalls for workers, but serving royalty there could cause a mess.

His Highness walked toward a small hill away from the memorial. The hill was a plaza maintained for local events, offering a view of the Bartfort domain’s town. I followed a few steps behind as he strolled casually. The silence felt heavy. Expecting me to entertain him politely in this backwater viscounty is absurd. Please, just go back to the capital—my stomach’s churning.

He sat on a bench in the plaza and motioned with his eyes for me to join him. Sitting next to a prince and chatting? That’s too much. But I sat, and the air remained stifling.

Ugh, I should’ve stayed in bed and slept in. I’m not cut out for this. What do I do? Isn’t it proper etiquette for the higher-up to start the conversation? Expecting me to kick things off with witty banter is a mistake.

“Olivia was here, wasn’t she?” His Highness finally spoke.

Olivia? It took me a moment to realize he meant the Saintess.

“Yes, the memorial service was held with neighboring domains, and many visited us. Thanks to that, the inns profited from talk of ‘the hot spring the Saintess bathed in’ or ‘the lodge where the Saintess stayed.’”

“She must have mourned all the fallen equally.”

“The Saintess is kind-hearted. The families were grateful.”

“How many casualties did the Bartfort domain suffer?”

“Eighteen dead, six missing. Five retired due to injuries. Nearly twenty percent of our forces were lost.”

The Bartfort army numbers just under two hundred, about ten percent of the population. While the deaths were less than twenty percent of the army, the war with the Fanoss Duchy split our forces. My father and Colin guarded the domain, while my brother and I led the troops. The deaths came from my unit, as our domain wasn’t a key target for the enemy. My unit lost thirty percent to death, disappearance, or severe injury. Joint operations with other nobles forced my men into reckless tasks. If I’d abandoned those with weaker ties to our house, losses might’ve been lower, but a weak house like ours can’t afford to make enemies. I worked hard to minimize casualties, and my brother handled negotiations with nobles, earning us gratitude and a promotion—ironic.

“Your recent strategy was impressive. The four praised it, and Jilk, who rarely compliments others, was frustrated.”

“Just luck. I knew the enemy, Zora and her crew, so it worked. Against regular pirates or the Duchy’s army, it wouldn’t have gone so well.”

The enemy underestimated me, Dorothea had a tracker, and Your Highness and the others happened to be visiting. So many coincidences—it’s absurd. In a normal scenario, we’d have lost many more. Everyone praises me, but if such a sloppy strategy is celebrated, past great strategists would be furious. Heroes like Your Highness, who can overcome ten-to-one odds, probably don’t notice. Geniuses can’t understand a commoner’s struggles.

“I want to hear about your troops’ coordination. How long since you received this floating island?”

“I was made a viscount at sixteen. Married Angie a year later, so about four years. The veteran knights served my father.”

“Your troops are well-trained, with morale rivaling a great noble’s standing army.”

“They’re simple enough to fall for my speeches. My time as a kingdom soldier helped.”

“Your soldier experience?”

“Yes. I despise the kingdom’s culture of glorifying adventurers and favoring nobles.”

“Tell me more.”

“You were there when I explained to Her Highness. I’m bad with words and can’t explain well.”

“A guy who gives rousing speeches to soldiers can’t claim that. It’s just modesty.”

“It’s not a fun story.”

“Just say it. Don’t tease.”

What a selfish prince. He’s using me to kill time. At least no one else is around—my words might shock or anger others.

“…Everyone in our army starts as a recruit, noble or commoner, treated the same.”

“Even me?”

“Even Your Highness. The system’s broken—noble kids with no experience get to be commanders or knights just because of their birth, while talented commoners are rarely recognized. It corrupts both sides.”

Nobles in the kingdom are overly privileged. It’s the system, but it’s gone too far.

“Any noble-born man, no matter how weak or foolish, can become a knight, while commoners, no matter how skilled, are ignored. It breeds decay.”

“The kingdom lacks noble men. We grant knighthoods and titles for merits.”

“Still not enough. The royal family delegated lordship appointments to knights, but few meet the standard.”

After the Fanoss war, the kingdom’s leadership restructured the military. Noble betrayals had caused chaos, so they tightened knight selection, but it became too strict, reducing appointments. Nobles who lost vassals or knights in the war lobbied to appoint knights independently, and the kingdom, short on manpower, reluctantly agreed. Angie said this would’ve been unthinkable in peacetime.

Nobles increasing their knights strengthens their military power, raising rebellion risks. In a weakened kingdom, a major revolt could be fatal. So, the leadership limited knight numbers but granted appointment rights. Many knights appointed this way died in the recent war. Finding and training new talent takes time and money.

“We’re a small border house, practically new nobility. Gathering people was tough, but revising knight recruitment worked.”

“How?”

“Simple. We test all knight candidates—written, practical, and interview. Pass, and you’re in, regardless of status.”

“Just tests and no status bias?”

“Upper nobles’ sons are useless. Arrogant and unfit as soldiers. When I became a noble, I reviewed every recommended candidate. They were awful.”

When I received my title and island, recruiting knights and soldiers was a nightmare. Thugs and near-pirates showed up for food and shelter, and knight candidates treated me like an upstart. Around then, haughty noblewomen came for marriage meetings, and, overwhelmed as a new lord, I had nightmares, delegated work to my father and brother, and shut myself away.

If the marriage proposal with Angie from the ducal house hadn’t come, I’d probably have died alone. After consulting with Angie, we managed to handle knight and soldier recruitment by leveraging the ducal house’s connections and implementing entrance exams.

“When I became lord, the people who showed up either admired me or looked down on me. Some of the admirers now serve our house. Most of those who looked down on me were from high-ranking noble families and either gave up or quit.”

“Why would such people want to serve the Bartfort house?”

“The ones who couldn’t get hired by respectable houses thought they could manipulate a young, inexperienced lord like me. Some were so ambitious they couldn’t hide their intent to seduce my sister or stepsister to take over the house. I politely showed those guys the door.”

The ones we rejected were the type to spit on the ground as they left. The worst of them got a beating from me, my father, and my brother before being chased off. Those kinds of people can’t get hired anywhere because they lack even the basic courtesy of a mercenary, who at least knows how to play the social game. If people like that are common, other nations might think the Holfort Kingdom’s knights are useless.

“As I told Her Highness, the talents needed for adventurers or warriors differ from those needed for soldiers. Kingdom nobles may be stronger than those in other countries, but I think our army’s overall training is about the same.”

“That’s a harsh opinion. Are kingdom soldiers that unreliable?”

“The gap between nobles and commoners is too wide. I’ll hold my tongue since this could turn into criticism of the monarchy.”

“Go ahead, say it.”

Ugh, this prince. He probably means no harm, but I wish he wouldn’t push me. If I can see these issues, the wise folks in the capital must’ve noticed them long ago. Are they too afraid to point it out, or are high-ranking nobles too foolish to see such obvious truths? His Highness looks amused, but the more I get involved, the more I feel dragged into the kingdom’s conflicts. I sighed and gave up—whatever happens, happens.

“The noble sons trying to become knights in our house only bragged about their ancestors: how great their lineage was, what houses their parents came from, who their tutors were. When I asked what they did during the war, they said, ‘I observed the situation from my estate.’ Useless.”

“That’s grim.”

“After consulting with Angie, we set up exams and trial periods for recruitment. About half the commoners stayed, but less than ten percent of nobles did. Those who remained either admired me or were from fallen or low-ranking noble families who couldn’t rely on their houses.”

“So high-ranking nobles are unreliable?”

“They look down on peers, lack passion for the job, complain while being mediocre, and can always fall back on their families. We’re better off without them.”

“That stings.”

“Our domain is still being developed, so the army often handles that work. I join the soldiers in labor, which gives me a good excuse to fire those who don’t pull their weight.”

“Wait, you, the lord, participate in development work?”

“Only sometimes. I usually leave it to my father and brother.”

“The Bartfort family is quite unconventional.”

“We were dirt-poor nobles who had to farm and hunt to eat.”

His Highness frowned. The Bartfort family, barely surviving on pride, can’t hide its poverty. Even now, without the ducal house’s support, we couldn’t maintain this lifestyle. In my generation, we’ll have to borrow money from them to keep developing and managing the domain. I just hope to have a plan to repay the debt by retirement.

“I always join the monthly training sessions. Having the lord present keeps the soldiers sharp and makes my words more convincing.”

“Convincing?”

“No matter how skilled, a commander who just gives orders from a tent and complains about lack of effort won’t earn soldiers’ loyalty. I rose through the ranks as a soldier, not trained to be a knight. All I know is getting dirty and crawling through the mud.”

“That’s not how a leader should act.”

“Do you think soldiers would obediently follow a noble kid with no experience, riding in armor his parents gave him, shouting, ‘I’m the commander, obey me!’?”

“…”

“I’m just over twenty. To lead soldiers, I have to put my body on the line.”

I have nothing—no knowledge, strength, wealth, beauty, lineage, or even courage. I’m just a commoner who reads desperately, gathers information, manipulates friend and foe with words, and barely wins with near-foul tactics. The title “Villainous Knight” suits someone like me who can’t win otherwise.

“Lord Bartfort, what do you think is essential for training soldiers?”

His Highness’s tone turned formal. Is this a royal question? What a hassle—my training ideas are just a young fool’s ramblings.

“Equal education, to start.”

“Equal?”

“Yes. As I’ve said, I had no proper education. My father’s domain had no place to study. My father and brother were my teachers. In the army, I read books whenever I had time and studied during breaks. As a lord, I ordered every management book I could find. After getting engaged to Angie, she’s been my teacher.”

“So you’re not entirely self-made.”

“If a near-commoner like me can get this far, there must be even more talented commoners out there. Find and train them, and they’ll be useful.”

To nobles and royals, commoners are like insects or weeds. But without insects, birds and small animals starve, and eventually, everything does. Without grass, cows and sheep can’t grow, and we lose meat, milk, leather, and wool. Nobles think they rule commoners, but they’re parasites supported by them. Commoners wouldn’t suffer without nobles—it’s ironic I’m a noble thinking this. His Highness crossed his arms and grunted, probably because my words are inflammatory.

“I know many nobles don’t want commoners educated, fearing it threatens their status. I get that.”

“You’d face criticism for saying this in a council.”

“But you must already know, Your Highness.”

“Why’s that?”

“With Olivia-sama, a commoner, becoming the Saintess and saving the kingdom twice, why do nobles still think they’re superior?”

While nobles held endless meetings in the capital, guarded their own lands, or defected when defeat seemed certain, Olivia-sama saved the kingdom. I know some nobles fought earnestly, but too many rely on bloodlines and status to act superior.

“From what my brother and Olivia-sama said, the academy divides students into upper and regular classes. What’s the criteria?”

“…Family title and wealth.”

“The academy was founded to gather diverse talent and train the kingdom’s future leaders. So, what kind of noble sons and daughters attended?”

“…”

His Highness didn’t answer. Fair enough—asking a former academy student like him this is unfair. I’m just venting my anger as someone nearly sold off to some woman, unlike scum like Rutart who attended as an heir. But lower nobles and commoners’ resentment toward the kingdom is growing. The praise for Olivia-sama is a backlash. I want to avoid civil war or conflict, as a lord and as a person.

“For example, our domain hires demi-humans and exiles from the capital. We screen out troublemakers, but many are quite capable.”

“Hiring demi-humans is banned by law.”

“Only as noble retainers. If you offer fair pay and evaluation, motivated people work hard.”

Until recently, nobles hired attractive demi-humans as retainers, and Zora’s retinue drained our finances. During the Fanoss war, many retainers, not just nobles, betrayed us. Some nobles lost because their retainers sold information. After the war, hiring demi-humans as retainers was banned, causing mass unemployment. Many who didn’t want to betray but followed their lords’ orders were labeled traitors and exiled, risking turning to piracy and worsening security. Our remote domain, with lax oversight, needs manpower. It’s far from the capital’s glamour and pays less, but we compensate and evaluate fairly. Our domain’s registry lists under two thousand people, but including unregistered ex-nobles and demi-human workers and their families, we have about five hundred. Other border lords do the same.

“It’s more reliable to find and train capable commoners than to seek talent among nobles.”

“Is that your idea?”

“Angie’s. I just review documents and stamp them.”

Angie leads our domain’s management; I only contribute a few ideas. With no money or people, we scrape by, using what we have. Pride and honor are worthless when you’re desperate.

“Has Angelica changed, or was she always like this? I can’t tell.”

“She’s changed a lot since coming here. When we met, she was beautiful but terrifying.”

Back then, Angie was driven, tackling everything needed for our domain’s development to prove herself to the capital. She calmed down after we married and had a child, though her beauty never changed.

“I misjudged people. If I hadn’t broken my engagement with Angelica, she’d have served the kingdom well.”

How do I respond? If he wants to reconcile, I’d refuse outright. Without Angie, our domain’s management would collapse, and if she left me, I’d be done for. Even a royal order wouldn’t make me divorce. Angie is my wife. Our eyes met, and his seemed amused.

“Bartfort, ever thought of becoming a court noble?”

“Please, no jests.”

I barely managed a reply. What’s he thinking? Recruiting the son-in-law of a ducal house opposing the royal family is asking for trouble. The duke would interfere. At the victory party, he got involved—stop fighting over me! It’s bad enough when it happens in front of me, let alone behind my back.

“My father and mother highly value you. If you seek advancement, they’d arrange a suitable position.”

“I’m honored, but it’s too soon.”

“Your elevation to earl is nearly confirmed this year. An earl’s rank meets the minimum for a minister.”

Absolutely not! Why is this happening? What are His Majesty and Her Highness thinking? A minister just over twenty? That’s insane! His Highness looks amused by my reaction. It’s a cruel joke—or worse, what if he’s serious?

“Forgive me, just the ramblings of a disgraced prince. Ignore it.”

“Understood. I’m sorry I can’t meet Their Majesties’ expectations.”

“But your opinions are valuable. Thanks for the entertaining time.”

His Highness stood from the bench and walked off. The sun had shifted from early morning to morning proper. Before parting, was there anything else to say?

“Wait, Your Highness.”

“What is it?”

I stood and stopped him impulsively. He turned, looking at me. Damn, I acted on instinct without a plan. Racking my brain, I recalled a recent dream.

“…The kidnapping incident might involve the Rachel Holy Kingdom or the Voldenova Holy Magic Empire.”

“Oh?”

He listened with keen interest.

“Why do you think that?”

“…Zora muttered something about it during her kidnapping of Angie.”

A lie. She never said such a thing. It was a fabrication to report my suspicions. The dead can’t contradict, so Zora’s finally useful.

“Sorry, my memory’s hazy.”

“No, that’s valuable information. Thank you.”

“I wish we’d captured Zora unharmed.”

“No matter. Killing her before she could leak information to another country was for the best.”

I managed to cover it up. If my dream is true, we’re facing war with the Holy Kingdom or the Empire. I can’t stop it, but Prince Julius might take action.

“We destroyed the Lady’s Forest because we suspected foreign interference. Your testimony supports that.”

“You knew?”

“It was uncertain. Now I have a good gift to bring back.”

I could only watch as His Highness walked toward the lodging. When his figure faded, I sat back on the bench, looking at the sky. I didn’t achieve anything—just shared information he already knew. Nothing’s changed. I’m just an upstart with no influence on the kingdom’s fate. The world revolves around saints and heroes. I’m a minor character, passing necessary information to the protagonists. No matter how I struggle, the world stays the same. Overwhelmed by powerlessness, I stretched out on the bench. Smoke rose from the chimneys of houses below. Today, too, the Bartfort domain remained peaceful.

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Authors Note

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This is a social gathering between Leon and Julius.

Although Leon himself thinks of himself as just a background character (mob), the capture targets are simply exceptional—Leon actually possesses enough talent to be genuinely respected.

In a way, Leon is the one who admires saints and heroes the most in this series.

The next chapter is planned to be a gag (comedy) episode, focusing on the Bartfort brothers and the Roseblade sisters.

Postscript:

At the request of the client, illustrations were drawn by fenao-sama and Araku-sama, with an illustration of Angelica by Shion Suzuhara-sama. Thank you very much!

fenao-sama: Pixiv

Araku-sama: Pixiv

Shion Suzuhara-sama: Skeb

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