Chapter 108

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Roy felt as though he had entered a nobleman's castle. It was as if he had passed through a world of darkness and finally reached a world of light.

He couldn't help wondering whether he really belonged here, which left him feeling a little uneasy. Everyone felt much the same, adults and children alike.

"Uh, but I think we'll need to separate the adults and children first," Kaspar said as he led the migrants onward.

"We'll have to do something about the cow, too. We don't have a cowshed here. Whose is it?" Yulia asked, looking a little at a loss herself.

The migrants had been pitching their tents wherever they could outside and living all together, so they had no idea what to do in proper lodgings.

"It's ours, but..." answered Lena, the eldest of the four siblings, hesitantly.

"They can't sell it right away, can they?"

"They've got a long journey ahead and need it to carry their things, so probably not. Let's tie it up beside the dormitory for now."

"Hmm, shall we?"

Kaspar and Yulia discussed it between themselves. But there was still one more problem.

"Our family can't be separated. We've never been apart before," said Hartmann's wife, Elia.

Looking troubled, Kaspar thought for a moment before answering.

"There are quite a few of you, so I'm not sure. I think the children would be better off staying in the probationers' dormitory. Everyone has, well, a daily routine, and having an entire family around might get in the way. I think the adults should stay in the keep, and the children in the dormitory..."

Both the keep and the dormitory were within the castle walls, so they weren't very far apart.

After considering it for a moment, Hartmann answered, "Very well. If you can guarantee that I may see my son and daughter whenever I wish, we'll do that."

"There's really no need for a guarantee. You can literally see them whenever you want."

Thinking it over, Elia realized they weren't being torn apart for good. This arrangement would only last while they stayed here, so she couldn't keep insisting on having her way.

It was simply that she had always kept her son and daughter close, and being apart made her a little anxious.

"The trainees' building has somewhat better facilities, but things are pretty intense over there. That's where the competition really starts, so the kids are a little on edge. You'll be better off in the probationers' building," Yulia said, looking at the children.

But what choice did the children have about what suited them? They simply did as they were told.

In the end, Hartmann, Yulia, Bremen, and Blatter were to stay in the keep, while the children stayed in the probationers' dormitory.

It was only the next building over, hardly anything to make a fuss about, but as they drew farther apart, their feet dragged. Elia kept looking back, and so did Roy and Becca.

The four orphaned siblings simply followed along blankly, while Bremen reassured Hartmann and Elia that everything would be all right.

The dormitory had once been a barracks, with four people to a room.

Kaspar led the four siblings, Becca, and Roy inside, then addressed the probationer on duty.

"Hey, got any empty beds?"

"Pardon?"

"These kids are going to be staying here. Do you have any empty beds?"

"Uh... Yes, just a moment. Oh, are the girls staying here too?"

"No. The girls will go to the girls' dormitory."

"Then you'll need two beds. One moment."

The probationer on duty examined something like a chalkboard mounted on the wall. Various details needed to manage the residents' daily lives had been recorded on it with chalk made from lime and charcoal.

"We have space, but not together. Here and here."

The rooms were far apart. But they weren't in a position to be picky, and Kaspar took Roy and the youngest of the four siblings away.

"Wait here for a moment. I'll take these two to their rooms and come back," he told the girls.

Perhaps it was only now, as they were suddenly split up, that it began to feel real. Roy called to his sister.

"B-Becca."

"Don't be scared. Be good, all right?"

And so the two boys were separated from their sisters too.

Roy entered the room Kaspar showed him. Once Kaspar had gone, leaving him standing alone in the four-person room, he felt what it was like to be on his own, away from his family, for the first time.

He could still hear shouts of exertion somewhere. He went over to the window and saw people practicing diligently with swords in the yard behind the building. They looked about his age or a little older.

Every one of them was serious. Despite the cool weather, their clothes were soaked with sweat. Their swordsmanship instructor maintained a stern expression, his gaze as sharp as a blade.

Watching them gave Roy a curious sort of courage. All those children must be living away from their families too.

He watched, spellbound, losing track of time. At last, the training session seemed to end. The instructor left, and most of the children sank to the ground where they stood.

A few headed off somewhere, wiping away their sweat, and soon the corridor outside grew noisy. Then some probationers entered Roy's room. Their eyes met.

The probationers gave him only a brief glance before going about their business and chatting among themselves without addressing him.

"Is that soap?"

"Yeah. I swiped it when I went to the city for the last festival."

"You didn't buy it?"

"Why would I pay for something this expensive?"

"Never mind the price. Only girls use stuff like that, you sissy."

"Then you can't borrow it."

"Being a girl doesn't sound so bad."

"You idiot."

The probationers snickered at their own silly jokes. They took out fresh clothes and went to wash. Only after returning did they address Roy, who was still standing there awkwardly.

"You new?"

"... Huh? Oh, yeah..."

"What's with those clothes, though? People will think you're a beggar."

"Maybe he really is a beggar. What's that smell? Smells like shit."

They weren't trying to bully him. Roy really did smell. After days of living outdoors, where washing was difficult, body odor was inevitable. Traveling with a cow had left the smell of dung on him too.

His face reddened with shame.

"Hey, what's your name?" asked the oldest-looking of the three probationers after studying him for a moment.

"Roy."

"Hmm, a commoner. Good. It's awkward having a noble around. What does your father do? Does he run some trading company? Or is he a jeweler?"

"N-no. He's a woodcutter..."

The room suddenly fell silent. Only the muffled chatter of the other children in the corridor could be heard through the door.

"A woodcutter? You're not joking?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Then you must not have any money."

"They said children shouldn't handle money..."

"Who says that? How are you going to live without money? Eat nothing but plain porridge?"

"... What's wrong with plain porridge? Isn't it all right...?"

"Hah."

All three of his roommates looked dumbfounded. Little wonder, since the children who joined the clan came from the lesser nobility or the middle class.

Training for knighthood was far too arduous, dangerous, and time-consuming. The clan, on the other hand, taught enough swordsmanship for them to at least defend themselves in this harsh world.

Those with exceptional talent or ambition stayed on to make a future for themselves in the clan.

A full-fledged clan member, especially one bearing the Viola name, would never be treated poorly anywhere. Quite the opposite: nobles and wealthy people would come pleading for their help.

Given those circumstances, many people competed to send their children to the clan. And since the clan wasn't a charity, it gave preference to prospective pupils whose families offered the largest donations.

In other words, a woodcutter's son had no business being here.

Perhaps that was why the look in the probationers' eyes changed as they regarded Roy. It was contempt.

"Anyway, hurry up and wash. Wash those clothes too."

"Where?"

"Don't you have feet? Don't you have eyes? There's water everywhere. Do we have to spell it out for you? Find it yourself," one of the probationers said coldly.

Embarrassed and flustered, Roy left the room. The corridor was full of apprentices and probationers milling about and playing around, but they merely glanced at him. No one spoke to him.

Kaspar wasn't there, nor was his sister. He couldn't see Les, the youngest of the four siblings, who was also supposed to be staying here.

With no other choice, he left the building again. He didn't know where to wash, but then he remembered his roommate saying that there was water everywhere.

Realizing he must have meant the lake, Roy went outside the castle to the lakeshore. There he stripped and washed. Fortunately, the water was so clean it was perfectly clear.

But he had no change of clothes, so after washing them, he put them straight back on, still wet. No matter how hard he wrung them out, he couldn't get all the water out.

Carrying his shoes, he trudged back barefoot. Once he returned to the dormitory, every passerby gave his wet clothes a strange look.

Those stares made him shrink into himself.

Back in his room, his fellow probationers ignored him completely.

Roy undressed again, hung his clothes by the window, and climbed into bed. With nothing to his name, there was nothing else he could do.

The probationers chatted among themselves and came and went. Naturally, none of them bothered to tell him when meals were served.

Roy went hungry, enduring it with the thought that he would be able to see his parents after just one night's sleep.

There was roll call that evening, and Roy settled into bed to sleep. The night wore on, but sleep wouldn't come.

Compared with sleeping outdoors, the bed might as well have been a cloud. Yet his troubled mind kept him awake.

Eventually, he needed to urinate. He held it for as long as he could before putting on his still-damp clothes and going outside.

When he returned after relieving himself, the dormitory door wouldn't open. Huh?

He couldn't bring himself to knock for fear of waking someone. The guards on duty near the castle gate were strangers, too frightening to approach.

Asking a stranger for help was far too difficult for young Roy.

He looked toward the keep where his parents were staying. Light spilled from windows here and there. He desperately wanted to go to them, but he didn't.

Instead, he decided to do what he was good at. Endure.

Stars twinkled in the night sky, and the four siblings' cow stood tethered behind the dormitory. It was the only familiar presence Roy had now. He hugged it and sobbed for a while. The cow turned its head toward him as though enfolding him in an embrace.

Cold and hungry, Roy curled up beside the cow and crouched there, nodding off now and then, barely sleeping at all. Only when dawn broke the next day could he finally go back inside.

No, he never made it inside. He ran into his parents as they came out of the keep.

"Roy," his mother, Elia, called.

Her expression made it clear that she had never dreamed her son might have spent the night outdoors.

Clean and dressed in new clothes, his mother looked truly beautiful. His father looked like a gallant knight.

Roy stared in bewilderment at his parents' dramatic transformation.

"How was the dormitory? Were you comfortable?"

"... Yeah. It was fine. So comfortable I slept like a log."

"Wasn't it? I was worried too, but everyone here has been so considerate. I almost feel guilty enjoying all this for free."

Roy simply smiled and hid the truth. He had long dreamed of growing up quickly and easing the burden on his sister, his mother, and his father. He couldn't become a burden himself.

His mother seemed positively giddy, as though she were a young girl again. The sight was so dazzlingly beautiful that Roy couldn't say a word.

"... So, Roy, if you're all right with it, you could stay here."

Roy hadn't properly taken in what his mother was saying. All he understood was that he would have to keep living here.

"W-what about you? And Father?"

"Well, nothing's been decided yet. We'll talk it over with them."

"Oh..."

"Why? Don't you like it here?"

"N-no. It's just..."

"You'll be ten soon. It's time you left your mother's arms. It'll be hard, but you need to accept it. You won't get another chance like this," his father said.

Roy stood blankly for a moment, then forced a smile.

"You're right. Of course. A comfortable bed, enough to eat, and I can learn swordsmanship too. No one's going to come and kill us, either. I'll never get another chance like this in my whole life."

His father reached out and stroked his hair.

Feeling that hand on his head, Roy thought that just as his father had endured everything for the family, it was now his turn to do the same. He was only nine years old.

Nothing had been settled for certain, but for now Roy had to remain in the dormitory.

From then on, he watched for cues and followed the probationers around, learning things one by one by observing them. He attended roll call, ate the plain porridge provided free of charge, and listened to swordsmanship lessons from a corner, barely making his presence felt.

Fortunately, there were no beatings or anything of the sort. He merely had to endure the cold stares, the contempt, and the loneliness.

He ran into his sister Becca now and then, but they couldn't talk for long. The rules required boys and girls below trainee rank to stay apart, even if they were siblings.

She seemed to be having a hard time too, but with three of the four siblings beside her, she appeared to be managing.

Les, however, the youngest of the four and about Roy's age, had adapted astonishingly well. He was obliging toward the established probationers and ran all sorts of errands for them. He went about in a gambeson and cloak that looked splendid to Roy.

Roy approached him while he was with the other probationers.

"Les. Les."

"Huh? Roy."

"Did you buy those? Your clothes."

"Oh, these? You just ask the clan quartermaster and he gives them to you. Didn't you know?"

"No, I didn't."

"Really? Come on. Let's go together."

Les took Roy to the storehouse, where weapons and food supplies were kept. When they spoke to the person there, he really did give Roy clothes, shoes, and a cloak that more or less fit him.

Roy could hardly believe it. These weren't merely some secondhand clothes he had acquired. He hadn't known it was possible to get genuinely new clothes for free.

In fact, these were provided only to formally admitted pupils, and their cost was negligible compared with the hefty donations. Roy, Les, and the other children, of course, received theirs on Volka's special orders.

The stitching was meticulous. Rather than being stuffed with cheap scraps, the gambeson was padded with a blend of wool and down.

Still dazed, Roy watched Les walking along briskly and said, "You're amazing."

"Huh? Why?"

"You've made friends and settled in so well."

"Oh, that? I lied."

"What?"

"I told them my parents run a cattle farm for a lord. Everyone's been nice to me ever since."

Both of Les's parents were dead. His father had lingered after being struck by a bandit's blade before dying.

"Is that okay?"

"What is?"

"Lying like that."

"Who cares? These kids are all living away from home too."

"... Anyway, thanks."

"For this? Don't mention it. We're friends."

At the word "friends," Roy finally felt the weight on his heart begin to lift.

With that, slowly and with great difficulty, he began adjusting to life in the clan. He didn't know what would happen next, but the adults didn't seem to want to leave either.

Then, on the fifth day after their arrival, Les came to wake him at dawn and led him out of the dormitory. They headed for the storehouse.

There was a padlock on the door, but it only looked fastened. It wasn't actually locked.

"I'm only telling you because we're friends."

Les casually opened the door and went in. But as luck would have it, Ricard had risen at dawn for some fresh air and was watching from a distance.

Les took Roy to where the food was kept. The shelves were laden with fine ham and cheese wrapped in paper, along with liquor and other provisions.

They were stockpiled for emergencies or for clan members leaving the autonomous domain on business.

There were expensive potions nearby as well, along with fine liquor that Volka, a lover of drink, had specially collected.

Les began helping himself to ham and cheese.

"L-Les."

"Hmm? What?"

"You can't do this."

"Why not? Oh, are you worried we'll get caught? It's fine. The quartermaster only takes a quick look around in the evening. Sometimes he comes in during the morning, but we need to leave before roll call anyway. We'll just go before then."

"That's not it. It's just something you shouldn't do."

"What are you talking about?"

Roy and Les seemed to have starkly different values.

Roy's parents had taught him properly what he should and shouldn't do. Les, on the other hand, had been without his mother for a long time and had lost his father too. He would use any means necessary to survive and satisfy his own wants.

Roy fidgeted anxiously, certain this wasn't right, but Les couldn't have been more unconcerned.

"Shall we try some liquor?"

"Les, please..."

"I told you not to worry."

Les stood on tiptoe and reached for the fine liquor high on a shelf. That was when disaster struck. The bottle tipped, then fell to the floor.

CRASH!

Both boys froze. This wasn't something they could simply clean up. The evidence of their crime was right there.

As though time really had stopped, they stared blankly down at the broken bottle. The only thing moving was the liquor slowly spreading across the floor.

Then, without attempting to clean up the mess, Les abruptly left the storehouse.

Roy started after his friend, but once Les was outside, he suddenly shoved Roy back in and shut the door. Then came the click of the lock.

A truth he could not accept, did not want to accept, flashed through Roy's mind.

"L-Les?"

He called to his friend. But all he heard beyond the door was the sound of receding footsteps.

He tried to open it, but just as he had feared, it wouldn't budge. He was trapped. Stunned and horrified, Roy felt his heart pound as though it might burst.

Then, for better or worse, the door opened before roll call. A grown man stood silhouetted against the light. It was none other than the quartermaster.

"Caught you, you little rat. I'll cut your hand off."

The quartermaster dragged Roy out with a brutal grip.

From the window of his room in the keep, Ricard merely watched in silence.